Summoned to the Tower
“What do you mean the navy got reorganized into the army?”
The two of them were deep in conversation as they circled the tower.
“The navy's not the only one. It's the army in name only—they've just merged everything into one. There aren't many left anyway. And the army's the one holding the government's top brass. Pretty obvious, right?”
“What about the forces stationed off Incheon?”
“Still navy. In name only.”
Jeong I-jin stubbed out his cigarette roughly on the ground.
Jaejeong recalled what the doctor had said.
“You know anything about this guy they call Doctor?”
“A bit. Why?”
“What kind of person is he?”
“Just… a guy. The type who'd do anything to survive for his young son. But why the doctor?”
“He said something weird to me. That the forces stationed in the West Sea have two options.”
“Ah, that.”
Jeong I-jin grinned.
“What is it?”
“The Chinese are planning to lock us down completely. So they're reaching out to the naval forces. Telling them to bring their gear and ships over. That's one option. The other is helping the government escape if their exile requests abroad get accepted. That's it.”
“Is Korea really that fucked? How can no one accept our exile?”
“It's got nothing to do with international relations. Look at the state of things. Japan collapsed in days. With a virus this devastating, humanity's extinction is just a matter of time. Of course it's better for them to seal us off. What's in it for them to take in a dead government's refugees? We don't have money or anything.”
It made sense.
There was no reason to accept the Korean government's exile—no ability to repay overdue bonds, no wealth to offer.
Politics and diplomacy weren't run on sentiment.
Jaejeong muttered.
“Worst case scenario.”
“Damn right. And these so-called military brass are pulling this shit, so how can I not be pissed? All the real generals are missing, so now they're playing dress-up.”
Jeong I-jin ground his teeth.
“At least we're alive. That's something. We're still kicking, right?”
“Living half-assed is worse than dying. Soldiers chase honor, not cash. No desire to scrape by like this. Not after losing my whole family.”
The mood turned somber in an instant.
Jaejeong knew Jeong I-jin's family well.
His parents and one older sister.
Grateful people who'd asked about Jaejeong's well-being even as they faced I-jin's death.
“Sorry. Didn't think about your family.”
“Nah, it's not just me who lost everything. Fuck. Should've just died back then.”
Jaejeong couldn't blame him.
For Jeong I-jin, death was a double-edged sword.
Die, and he couldn't see his family. Live, and he had to face their deaths.
He wouldn't want either, but dying then might've spared him this pain.
Jaejeong felt like he was seeing a ghost.
His supposedly dead subordinate.
Foul-mouthed, with a black-and-white sense of right and wrong that wouldn't let him stay silent.
Yet he'd breezed through the grueling special forces training.
In tight quarters, he could take on multiples bare-handed, and his knife work was unmatched.
That was Jeong I-jin.
Jaejeong suddenly felt thrown back in time.
A nostalgia for his soldier days, long buried but never forgotten.
Seeing I-jin unchanged, like stepping into the past, stirred unfamiliar emotions—unlike his own transformed self.
I-jin's death had prompted Jaejeong's discharge.
He couldn't function in the military anymore.
Guilt and grief shadowed him like ghosts.
I-jin had stuck to him closer than anyone.
He'd endured other superiors but was always extra with Jaejeong.
Simple reason.
Jaejeong had never lost first place.
No complaints, shouldered others' burdens when needed.
Incredibly agile, with judgment faster than anyone's.
That was the Han Jaejeong in Jeong I-jin's eyes.
Impossible not to admire and follow.
A mountain he could strive to climb but never surpass.
I-jin had thought himself the toughest bastard alive, unbeatable.
Then came someone tougher.
The old Jaejeong, but to I-jin, he still was.
“Sorry, hyung. First time seeing you in ages, and I'm dumping all this shit on you.”
“Shut up, you punk. When have you not?”
“Oh, right. You were with this Kang Youngman guy? For real?”
“Yeah. Why?”
Jeong I-jin stopped dead, letting out an exclamation.
“Figures you wouldn't know. When I came back and served as intel officer, they covered him in training. First Korean to lead a team in an overseas PMC. Generals fought to meet him on every visit. No idea?”
“I knew he was ex-military, but not that level.”
Jaejeong blinked in confusion.
“Kinda like me, though. Meets a general or anyone, starts ripping into the Korean military's bullshit. From defense industry to the canteens handed to grunts—public enemy number one. But to young officers and cadets, he's textbook legend. Lucky you, hanging with him.”
“Just the neighbor uncle. A bit quirky.”
“Neighbor uncle? He'd foam at the mouth. Solo-rescuing isolated GIs is legend. Medals galore… Man, you really didn't know.”
Jeong I-jin flushed with excitement.
Jaejeong felt baffled yet amused.
Youngman was that legendary?
That he'd entrusted Jaejeong with choices in key moments, respected his views—it was astonishing.
No matter the years, a mercenary with that resume didn't rust.
He'd weathered crises alone plenty.
“Medals don't mean shit. Probably squatting homeless in some boundary zone now.”
“Something'll come up soon. If he joins the military, those old farts up there salute him. Think they will? They'd rather avoid the awkwardness.”
“No idea. Honestly, in this mess, who gives a fuck about military or ranks?”
Jaejeong shook his head.
“Still need structure. Someone's gotta hold the baton. Problem is, it's morons gripping it. Hell if I know what to do.”
“What about the president?”
Jeong I-jin shook his head.
“Officially missing. We hope he's holed up surviving somewhere. Tons of signals from survivors everywhere.”
“Signals? Communications working?”
“Phones no, but WiFi internet yes. That's how we track rough survivor counts. SNS still up. Problem is, they drop fast daily.”
Jeong I-jin sighed.
Jaejeong patted his pockets.
Couldn't even remember when he'd lost his smartphone.
Survivors connecting via SNS.
Jaejeong said, “If the president's alive, changes everything.”
“Yeah. Even the PM would get exile approved. Hate to say it, but he's probably gone. No signals linked to him amid thousands. Who doesn't know the president's face?”
True.
If president or PM lived, they'd signal somehow.
A civilian with top brass could leverage that for safe zone entry.
Jaejeong shook his head.
Didn't want to dwell.
Safe zone or government—didn't care, no power to anyway. Just another civilian.
Someone would step up.
Goal was safe zone entry. Achieved. Survive here.
“Oh, operation in two days?”
“Yeah. Steady till Yeouido's fully secured. Push exile separately, run ops we can.”
“Heard before crossing the river—they scraped every drop of fuel from boats to cars.”
Jaejeong recalled the boatman's words at the pier.
Even boat fuel drained clean.
“Yep.”
“But no real need for fuel here. Yeouido has stations. Why?”
“Prepping for winter. The coming winter.”
Jeong I-jin gazed at the high sun.
“Summer's ending. Autumn soon, then cold. Who knows, but prep for worst. If we can't leave the peninsula, fight resources, not zombies.”
“Makes sense.”
Jaejeong nodded in agreement.
If exile failed and peninsula-locked, self-sufficiency.
No fuel, no ops, army plans or not.
First: full Yeouido safe zone.
Then survive on internal fuel/resources.
After a couple laps chatting, Jeong I-jin crushed his smoke and looked up at the building.
“Forgot the most important part.”
“Ah, the tower. Right, who wants to see me?”
“A politician. The kind you hate. No choice anyway. Here, tower orders are law.”
Jaejeong eyed Jeong I-jin.
I-jin wouldn't compromise with injustice, nitpicked right/wrong—but still a soldier.
Soldiers start and end with orders.
Orders bore all responsibility; commander's word was law.
“Why does a politician want me?”
“See for yourself. Don't know details. One thing: he proposed this safe zone, made it happen. Tens of thousands alive thanks to one man's decision.”
“Rare seeing you praise someone. Twice today.”
“Twice? Why twice?”
“You talked up Youngman earlier.”
“Oh, right? This isn't praise. Just facts. Feelings aside, credit where due.”
As Jeong I-jin entered the tower, saluting guards returned it.
He lightly saluted back, guiding Jaejeong inside.
The interior was impossibly pristine, defying the infection outbreak.
No bloodstains on marble floors and pillars, clean air without metallic tang.
Felt like another world.
Jaejeong followed to the elevator.
Through transparent glass, Seoul sprawled below.
Black smoke rising everywhere, buildings fully ablaze in spots.
Shorts or infected.
Road-choked cars shrank as they ascended.
Felt detached from reality.
Ding!
Doors opened.
Two soldiers waited.
Quick pat-down, then down a long hall to a small office.
Knock knock knock!
“Come in.”
A young, vigorous voice answered from beyond the door.