The Missing Daughter
There were no infected or survivors in sight on the way to the auto repair shop.
Just a babbling stream and rows of neatly planted trees.
No birdsong pierced the silence—perhaps the infected's guttural howls had driven even the birds away.
Despite all the trees.
The repair shop they arrived at looked like a fortress.
It was immediately clear why Youngman took such pride in the place.
Concrete walls taller than a grown man, topped with iron fencing that evoked a prison yard.
Flanking the massive, tightly shut front gate, the outer perimeter dropped into steep slopes barren of even a single tree—an open field that ensured clear lines of sight.
Here, it really felt like they could survive anything.
That's when Jaejeong, admiring the shop, asked,
"How'd you snag land like this?"
"Inherited it. Back in the day, Gangnam was a barren wasteland. Total boonies. My father bought this plot then. Everyone scoffed at it—just a hillside, worthless. But after he passed, they announced Gangnam's development, and the value shot up hundreds of times overnight."
"Why not sell then? Must sting."
"Land's still worth plenty. But money isn't everything. Sure, it doesn't look like it used to, but this place once held my father's life—and it means something to me too. So I built the shop. Didn't want to let the mechanical skills I picked up in the army go to waste."
Youngman swept his gaze over the shop with a distant look.
A home he'd seen every day, but with these newcomers—or maybe because of the situation—it suddenly struck him as impressive all over again.
Upon arrival, Youngman pushed the gate with his fingertips.
It swung open smoothly.
But seeing it open so easily sent Youngman into a visible emotional turmoil.
His steps quickened, his eyes darting urgently like a man searching for something lost.
Then he broke into a run across the yard.
"What's wrong?"
Jaejeong, puzzled, ran after him and asked.
"The gate... it shouldn't be open. If Minyoung came home, she'd have locked it."
The repair shop consisted of two buildings.
The house on the left side of the broad yard seemed to be where Youngman and his daughter lived; the one on the right was unmistakably the workshop.
Youngman's steps hastened as he reached the house entrance.
The other two picked up their pace to match.
"Minyoung!"
Youngman's booming voice echoed through the windows.
On the neatly organized shoe rack sat a photo frame: a younger Youngman, a girl in school uniform, and a woman who'd left them first, all smiling brightly.
Jaejeong and Beom-sik stood frozen at the entrance, shoes still on, stunned by this unfamiliar panicked side of Youngman.
His daughter clearly hadn't returned home.
In the current situation, that meant...
Death, pretty much.
"We'll check outside."
Jaejeong grabbed Beom-sik and headed out.
They scoured the shop, the yard, and even the back lot.
How much time passed before the three regrouped?
Youngman's face, emerging from the house, was grimly set.
Even Jaejeong and Beom-sik, who'd combed the shop and yard without gaps, fell silent.
"I've got somewhere to go. You two stay here and guard the shop. Won't take long. Can you do that?"
"Where to?"
Jaejeong asked, looking troubled.
"Minyoung hasn't come back. Her shift should've ended before shit hit the fan—she should've been home."
"What does she do?"
"Doctor. Just got her license, working hard at it. Gotta check the hospital."
"Hold up, old man. How old's your daughter?"
Beom-sik blocked Youngman as he moved to leave.
"Around your age. Why?"
"So she could've gone out last night to meet a boyfriend or grab drinks with coworkers. Rushing to the hospital won't fix that."
"She's the type who only cares about family and studying. Doesn't touch booze."
"Nah, that's your take, pops. Kids act all innocent at home but wild out there these days."
"She's not like that!"
Youngman's sudden roar made them flinch.
Jaejeong's casual remark had ignited his pent-up frustration.
The bellow echoed off the walls like a lion's roar.
For a moment, a heavy silence blanketed the yard.
Even Youngman seemed to regret his outburst, softening his expression quickly.
But his faintly trembling hands betrayed his inner turmoil.
"Sorry. Lost my head... Anyway, watch the place. She's gotta be at the hospital."
"Where's the hospital?"
"New comprehensive one built last year. Not far—head along the hillside beyond the wall, and you're there. If I'm not back by sundown, do whatever—stay or go."
Youngman's eyes were earnest.
Until arriving, he'd waxed poetic about the place.
For him to abandon it so readily...
Jaejeong pondered.
What Youngman truly cherished wasn't the inherited land, but the family living here.
With his wife gone, only his daughter remained.
Jaejeong had never built a family himself, but he could understand, somewhat.
Still, hesitation gripped him.
After all the trials to reach this safe haven, venturing back out?
A new hospital meant big—crawling with infected.
Searching for a total stranger there was suicide.
Things were getting complicated fast.
He'd figured they'd hole up and assess.
Jaejeong glanced aside.
Beom-sik wore a conflicted look too.
But he wouldn't tag along with Youngman.
Not the warm type, and that cold glint in his eyes never boded well.
From what Jaejeong had seen so far, anyway.
Even if Jaejeong went, Beom-sik would stay.
Pathetic to waver like this, but this wasn't a movie.
One slip could mean death, and blindly helping could lead straight to the grave.
One more thing.
When they confirmed Youngman's daughter was dead—which was likely—that moment worried him.
Hard enough watching a near-stranger fret; who knew what drastic move grief might provoke.
Bottom line: he couldn't step up.
No matter how he turned it over.
Youngman was unique—combat skills and crisis handling on par with active pros. He'd manage alone.
But...
Couldn't send him solo.
"I can't promise to wait here. Let's split from here."
Jaejeong's head snapped toward the voice.
Beom-sik stood there, exuding his signature chill, decision made.
"I understand."
Youngman nodded, as if expecting it.
'No way he answers that quick?'
Jaejeong's head tilted slightly.
At least pretend to think it over.
He shot Beom-sik an ambiguous look, but got no glance back.
Cold bastard.
This complicated things.
Not staying, but bailing entirely—left Jaejeong in a bind.
Alone in a stranger's empty house? Or tag along planless?
Truth was, he'd painstakingly planned to convince Beom-sik and follow Youngman.
Then Beom-sik drove the stake.
"Ha... damn."
Jaejeong sighed, calling out.
"Hey, let's talk."
"What? Say it here."
"Come here, asshole. I won't hit you."
Beom-sik snorted dismissively and followed Jaejeong along the wall.
Walking beside the hulking Jaejeong, Beom-sik looked especially slight.
"Straight talk: come with."
"Why the hell would I?"
Beom-sik's face screamed incomprehension.
"Where you headed out there? Got someone waiting? Where's your die-for-you bros?"
"We bolted 'cause you yelled run from the ER."
"Yeah, I know. I said run. But look now—who's with you? One cop, one ex-grunt. Good luck finding this combo elsewhere. Your crew alone? That hot blood would've gotten you all chewed up by monsters already."
"Get to the point."
Persuasion wasn't landing easy.
But his eyes softened a bit—progress.
"We clash, sure. But together boosts survival—you admit that, right? Trust me and tag along? Won't mouth off like before."
"Be your lackey?"
Beom-sik narrowed his eyes.
"Ugh, no. How long we gonna bicker? Even childhood pals have roles. Both wanna lead? Ship sinks."
Beom-sik stared silently at the wall.
Jaejeong's logic was airtight—differences irrelevant.
But it grated.
Cops, in his eyes, were untrustworthy scum.
Acted understanding, granting favors—then struck when pissed.
Call 'em dirty? They'd spit back.
Had to get filthy to catch underworld filth, they'd say.
That was cops to him.
Split now—what then?
If this hell swallowed the whole country.
No rescue, no matter how long they held.
"Ha..."
Beom-sik hung his head.
No choices left.
Jaejeong knew it—standing all casual.
Infuriating, but unavoidable.
Needed help now.
Beom-sik glanced at Jaejeong and nodded.
Youngman's face lit up as he handed out backpacks stocked with water and snacks.
"Let's head out then."
"Not yet."
Jaejeong shook his head.
"Why? I'm in a rush."
"You'll die before finding her like this."
"What do you mean?"
Youngman cocked his head.
"No prep. Hospital's crawling with those things... We've lucked out with the chopper so far, but no more. Lightning won't strike twice. No clever plan either."
"Well..."
"Prep first. Surrounded inside? Then what? Even if you find her spot, no way through means nothing. This is cheap for coming along. Plus, I wanna wash up."
"Yeah, me too."
Beom-sik waved agreement at Jaejeong's haggling tone.
Not a wrong word.
Just Youngman's urgency.
Rush in blind? Bound to hit a wall.
Delay there? Worse problems.
Three sleepless days—no endurance for prolonged crises.
Not a game or drama.
No prep? Die anywhere, no surprise.
In the end, Jaejeong's view won.
Soon, they showered in turns and changed into fresh clothes.
Then they rummaged the shop and yard for useful items against the infected.
Jaejeong headed to the camper van parked in the shop, checking the cargo bed and roof hatch thoroughly.
Nothing standout.
Staring at the brown curtains and plush bed inside, sleep nearly overtook him.
Gripping the wall against crashing fatigue, Jaejeong spotted something.
A half-open built-in cabinet at knee height—invisible without crouching.
Inside: a pink envelope.
Peeking inside, Jaejeong's eyes flashed.
Stuffed full: fireworks.
Infected People