Whispers of Exile and the Golden Trap
The effort to turn the entire Yeouido into a safe zone continued until the next day.
While one company prepared supplies for the landing operation, all the remaining forces scoured Yeouido beyond the crumbled outer wall.
Construction machinery rolled in wherever the soldiers passed, shoving aside abandoned vehicles and other hazards.
Then lines of workers followed, tidying up and repairing whatever the machines had missed.
The outer wall was no longer needed.
That meant even more manpower than planned had to be mobilized.
How much time passed like that?
Sudden bursts of gunfire echoed from the front lines, followed by word that they couldn't advance due to heavy fighting with the infected.
Thanks to that, the people got a respite for a while.
Lee Hyun-soo was among them.
"Here, our maknae. Have some water."
A man with burn scars across one side of his face handed a bottle to Hyun-soo.
He looked about the age of Hyun-soo's uncle, and you could tell he'd put in plenty of years in construction.
"Aigoo, thank you. Uncle had some yet?"
"Hey, that hyung doesn't drink water, kid. Sneaks soda on the sly."
"You think that's true, punk? Soda my ass. Nah, Hyun-soo, your uncle ain't like that."
The workers around them chimed in, chuckling at the exchange.
Hyun-soo put on a deadpan face.
"Oh, you did? Soda? Brought it for nothing then. Other uncles, take this."
Hyun-soo pulled out vitamin drinks he'd stashed in his bag and passed them around.
"This precious stuff! Where'd you score it?"
"What? Vitamins? Bacchus? The hell?"
"Precious? Nah, it's in every convenience store and supermarket."
Seeing the crowd swarm at the mention of energy drinks, Hyun-soo beamed.
"Me? You really not giving?"
"Uncle gets this. Pure taurine brick."
The scarred man ended up with a drink loaded with insane amounts of taurine and caffeine—the kind exam kids chug through all-nighters.
"Damn, as expected. But seriously, where's all this from? Safe?"
"Who do you think I am? I got ways to snag anything."
Reassured, the man gulped it down like water.
Then he eyed Hyun-soo, who stuck to him like a real nephew.
Come to think of it, it was only natural the workers warmed to Hyun-soo, felt close to him.
He was always at the heart of any scuffle, prying people apart to stop things escalating.
He took punches and shit-talk without ever snapping back.
At first they'd shake their heads like, What's his deal? But seeing him eat hits, one by one they'd roll up sleeves and jump in.
And that was just the start.
Injured? He'd bolt to the soldiers first to report it. Tough solo job? He'd lend a hand every time.
Even a scrap of food, he'd never hog it alone.
Watching Hyun-soo chat with the group, the scarred man thought he didn't seem like a kid from these times.
"...No, really, that's how it went. I was heading down from Uijeongbu, right? Employee calls, tells me about the safe zone."
"You buy that? Outta nowhere, zombies this, zombies that."
Gazing at the expanded safe zone, they swigged drinks and swapped old tales.
"Hell no, man. What kinda bullshit? Slammed the phone down!"
"You hung up?"
"Tanks rolling down. Right on the road."
"Ah, can't hear this anymore. Uncle, take your weird stories elsewhere."
"For real! Tanks lined up heading into Seoul. Why the hell would I lie?"
The storyteller looked wronged.
Hyun-soo, stuffing his empty bottle into his bag, asked, "So what happened next?"
"So I think, Shit, this ain't small potatoes. Zombies or whatever, big trouble's hit. So I blast straight to Yeouido. Like a bullet."
"Nah, hyung. If that's true, Seoul wouldn't be this fucked. Where'd all those tanks go? I never even heard jets."
Another worker eyed him suspiciously, unmoved.
"W-Well... tanks were real, though. How else would I think to come straight here?"
"Park's got a point."
The scarred man, who'd just slammed a big energy drink, jumped in.
"I got in after the safe zone locked down. Saw the outside till the end. Coming up from the provinces."
"Like the kid said, tanks in a line?"
"Yeah."
"Then why only a few in the city?"
"Infected, duh."
"Armored cars and tanks can't just smash 'em?"
"Few? Sure. Thousands, tens of thousands swarming? You think they move? I saw it—tanks isolated, corpses jammed in the tracks. Soldiers popping hatches, getting ripped apart."
"Blast 'em before they arrive. So frustrating."
One listener tsked.
The scarred man shot back like scolding, "That easy? Soldiers following orders—what intel they got en route? Like you said, open fire on thousands on the road? You do it? I couldn't."
"Aigoo, just hope the troops hurry with that landing op, make another safe zone. Can't stay sane in Seoul sober. Every corner's family spots..."
"Yeah."
They nodded, each face heavy with their own stories.
Hyun-soo, hearing the gunfire pick up, ventured carefully, "But what about us now? Rumors say president's eyeing the US, tower's planning China."
"Eh... we just go where they say, right?"
Hyun-soo shook his head at the worker's shrug.
"Nah, what? We pick our spot. Even if not, y'all got ideas."
"Hyun-soo, what's your take?"
"Me... US, obviously."
"Why?"
The scarred man asked.
"Honestly? More like wherever the president says. Who's running this country? President. So follow him."
"Tower did good too, Hyun-soo. No them, no safe zone to begin with."
"True. Uncle's right, but president brought the serum. Trading chip with foreigners. Without it, we're stuck in Korea forever. Setting that aside, he's the president. Some hate him, sure, but in this mess, just being alive makes him symbolic enough..."
The group nodded, lost in thought at Hyun-soo's words.
"Heard this too: president negotiating beats some congressman. International society's watching. Way better and safer for all of us."
"Damn, our Hyun-soo's sharp. Thought you were just some naive kid."
"Eh... just stuff I picked up here and there."
Hyun-soo scratched his head sheepishly.
The op was a solid success.
Even the skeptical faces were nodding now.
Never one to shy from crowds, Hyun-soo was seeding the talk at the perfect moment, per Han Jaejeong's orders.
And those who heard would spread it further.
That ripple effect was what he was banking on.
But he had to keep it ironclad logic—no gripes about the military.
No flags or politics, or it'd flop.
Stick to real-world feasibility and payoff.
Hyun-soo walked that line like a pro.
Meanwhile, the Production Manager had been up early, checking the expanded fields and zones.
Once all Yeouido was the safe zone, production would cover a full third of it.
Managing that sprawl might mean appointing a few more underlings.
The typhoon had wrecked their yields despite the hard work, but folks synced up quick and bounced back better than before.
The manager was squatting, patting down soil where seeds peeked through, when frantic footsteps pounded up.
He turned to see some guy barreling over, trampling a fresh, unseeded plot.
"Don't step there! You serious?!"
"Manager! This ain't the time. Huff! Huff!"
"Then what is? Safe zone 101: don't trample fields! What now?!"
The manager barked in his signature rapid-fire style.
"S-Sorry. Was in a rush..."
The guy scratched his head, catching breath.
"Spit it out. If it's nothing, you better brace yourself!"
"Doctor says fetch the manager now."
"Doctor? Why?"
The manager eyed the fresh tattoo snaking the guy's body, suspicious.
"Gold bars found in a production worker's house. All gold from homes goes to the tower, right? Huge uproar. Need you there yesterday."
"What? Gold bars?"
The manager's eyes bugged out.
If true, this was no joke.
Gold from assigned houses in the safe zone—all turned over to the tower.
And from a production laborer's pad? Recipe for bad assumptions.
"Where? Lead the way!"
"Yeah. This way."
The guide's eyes flashed sharp for a split second.
They sprinted between big buildings for a good stretch before reaching a small multi-family house.
Morning run had them both gassed, breaths ragged to the chin.
"Here... second floor. Whew, beat."
The guide braced hands on knees, heaving.
"Not coming up? I go solo?"
"You first, manager. Stairs might kill me right now."
"Kids these days, stamina's the issue. Stamina's national strength."
Even in a panic, the manager muttered nonstop as he climbed.
And...
The guy who'd been gasping like death followed at an easy stroll, face blank.
Creak!
The manager nudged the ajar door, paused mid-shoe removal.
The pitch-black house felt off, sinister somehow.
Then voices from a dim corner room.
"Doctor, manager's here? Stash the gold inside?"
Heart racing now, he kicked off shoes and strode to the living room.
But inside? Dead silence, no chatter.
Vibe totally flipped from the hall.
His head tilted.
Quick scan of the room.
Another tattooed guy glared daggers.
Tricked!
Too late—he spun to bolt.
Creak! Bang!
Front door slammed shut.
Whipped back—the guide locking it tight.
Step, step, step.
Turned again.
Besides the entry guy and room thug, another lurked.
From the kitchen shadows, sunlight spilling over a slow-revealing figure.
Lee Beom-sik.