Shattered Silence
Han Jaejeong's footsteps on the stairs were cautious, as if his soles had been slathered in glue.
They'd only crossed a single door, but the landing was beyond quiet—dead silent.
Between the two of them, descending step by careful step, the only sounds were the occasional dry swallows echoing in their throats.
The confidence that they could smash and resolve anything easily had been swallowed by the oppressive silence.
The heavy air, thick with the weight of death, allowed no room for even a hint of arrogance.
Just once.
One single touch from those things, and death could follow.
Even a single drop of blood getting into their bodies—who knew what would happen?
Jaejeong led with his left arm, wrapped in the cardboard box, as they reached the second landing.
In the center of the landing stood a large poster labeled 10th Floor Guide, greeting them.
As the top floor, unlike the others lined with regular shops, it was packed with facility management rooms.
Jaejeong wiped the sweat beading on his forehead as he glared down the silent hallway.
Beom-sik, following behind, whispered like he was sharing a secret in his ear.
"This place... it was quiet earlier too."
"Still, better safe. Being the highest floor, it might've reacted slowest to all this shit."
Jaejeong shook his head.
"If we spot anything, don't yell or freak out. In this kind of quiet, one shout and..."
"You watch yourself. I'm not just tailing you like some punk."
Their tense back-and-forth continued even as they pressed their backs together, covering each other.
Every step along the hallway's center wrapped their bodies in chilling dread.
The real problem was those things' speed and strength.
If one popped up suddenly, reacting wouldn't be easy.
The vague fear of not knowing where it might come from clawed at them too.
That's when it happened—they'd passed halfway down the hall.
The tension had them soaked through their clothes.
At the end of the corridor, beyond a door, a confusing silhouette flickered.
Something reflected in the indoor lights was moving very, very slowly.
Tap. Tap.
Beom-sik tapped Jaejeong's shoulder, and Jaejeong whipped around with an irritated scowl.
His eyes, which had been watching the opposite direction, now locked on the silhouette flickering inside the electrical room.
Jaejeong's grip tightened fiercely on his sledgehammer.
Beom-sik was tense too.
They'd come down to smash infected, but deep down, they hoped to avoid it.
Yet the inevitable face-off with their own kind, the fratricide they had to commit.
As tangled thoughts churned in their heads, they arrived at the firmly shut door.
The transparent floor-to-ceiling glass overlooking the electrical room was blocked by blinds dropped to waist height.
Jaejeong took a deep breath and grabbed the handle, but Beom-sik shoved him aside to stop him from barging in.
Eyebrows twitching, they exchanged a silent conversation with glances.
Beom-sik gestured toward under the blinds with his eyes.
Check inside first, then open.
Thwack! Thwack!
Ignoring it, Jaejeong reached for the handle again, but Beom-sik snatched his wrist and twisted it.
Jaejeong wrenched his half-twisted wrist back with brute force and grabbed Beom-sik's throat with his other hand.
His massive palm crushed down like it would snap the windpipe.
Beom-sik didn't back down, jabbing Jaejeong's solar plexus with his fingertips and retreating.
In mere seconds, they'd each struck the other's vital spot once.
As small sounds of flesh meeting flesh mixed with ragged breaths—
KRAAAK!
A horrific roar erupted, the blinds fell, and the shadow's owner began clawing at the glass like it was devouring it.
Too shocked to even scream, Jaejeong tumbled back but sprang up like he'd been electrocuted.
Then, embarrassed, he lashed out irritably.
"See? We could've just gone in. Why the fuck check every damn thing?"
"Couldn't you see how close it was? No room to swing if we'd rushed in. Dangerous as hell."
Jaejeong scowled but scanned the electrical room carefully.
Sure enough, it was cramped and cluttered—his hammer wouldn't have room to swing.
Still, it didn't sit well.
It was a matter of pride.
But they shelved it for now.
Beyond the glass, an infected with a pitch-black rotten face was screeching murderously.
A shattered employee badge dangled raggedly from its neck.
WAAAK!
Like it was pissed at being ignored.
The infected didn't just tap the glass—it started slamming headfirst relentlessly.
"Don't stop me this time."
"Wait!"
As Jaejeong raised his hammer to open the door, Beom-sik grabbed his arm again.
"What now?"
Jaejeong turned with a voice laced in annoyance.
He looked ready to punch if grabbed again, but there was reason for his irritation.
Something in Beom-sik's tone and vibe wasn't aggressive.
It felt like a urgent warning signal.
Crack! Craaack!
A sickening sound twisted Jaejeong's facial muscles grotesquely.
He couldn't believe it.
The glass that seemed like it'd trap the infected forever was spiderwebbing entirely.
From what they'd seen on the rooftop.
They knew these things had more strength and speed than humans.
But for one to have this much power?
The two slowly backed away.
What if it breaks through?
How will it lunge?
How do I react?
Smash it the second it comes out?
Thoughts swirled chaotically.
Then, the root-like cracks shattered the glass with a deafening crash.
A eardrum-bursting roar.
KRAK!
The thing bellowed.
Its grotesque voice pierced skin and rattled brains.
But ironically, it was the one in danger.
The one who had to backpedal.
The one who failed to grasp the situation, crossing the line it shouldn't.
As the monster charged, oblivious to the glass shards piercing its instep from sole to top of foot, the two moved in unison.
Distance closing, they kicked off the ground—the infected matched with insane reflexes.
Thud!
Thud!
Dull thunks exploded almost simultaneously.
Jaejeong's hammer smashed down on the crown of its skull; Beom-sik's wrench side-swiped its right temple.
Both caved in the cranium.
Unlike feared, no black blood sprayed.
These things had no circulation to begin with.
Stagnant blood merely trickled out like from a frozen pipe thawing.
In that moment, Beom-sik glanced up at Jaejeong's hammer.
Incredible power.
Worlds apart from his own precise temple strike.
The infected's upper skull was simply gone.
Who was the real monster?
Beom-sik alternated stares between the limp infected and Jaejeong yanking his hammer free, shaking his head.
It wasn't just brute force—it was threatening, lightning-fast.
Praise it? Stay quiet?
A cop pulverizing a humanoid skull without a flicker of hesitation.
Tsking inwardly, he stared down at the head-exploded infected outwardly.
"Hey, you just cursed me out in your head, didn't you?"
Beom-sik froze and looked up.
"What're you talking about?"
"You did, right? Don't lie."
"You're insane."
"Your overreaction makes it more suspicious."
"Done yapping? Find something to drink."
Beom-sik entered the room next to the electrical one, marked with a small plaque: Employee Break Room.
It was a tiny space under three pyeong, with just a water cooler and a few chairs.
This was the break area for staff managing such a massive building...?
He remembered the marble entrance and gold-trimmed elevators when they first entered.
Swallowing a curse, Beom-sik filled a cup with water.
The sound of cold water filling it awakened his dormant survival instincts.
But as he brought the cup to his lips, Beom-sik paused.
"What? Not drinking? Hurry up and chug, hand it over. Only one cup."
Despite Jaejeong's nagging tone, he didn't budge.
Beom-sik stared at the name tag on the cup.
From vague memory fragments, it matched the name on the employee badge around the neck of the infected they'd just taken down.
"What, you feeling guilty or some shit now? Don't. Just don't. If you're not drinking, move."
As Jaejeong reached to snatch it, Beom-sik deftly pulled away.
"Not that."
"Then why stare at the name tag?"
"Not a man's handwriting."
"So?"
Jaejeong looked baffled.
Beom-sik gazed wordlessly at the corpse in the hall.
"Mom or wife. Someone who loved that bastard dearly."
"Hah..."
Jaejeong, listening, sighed and bowed his head.
Beom-sik gripped the cup tight and downed the water.
"Cut the act. A guy who slaughters people like livestock—what's with the... Let's live a little sincerely, yeah? Not like some gangster punk... Fucking weird."
"Never done that."
The conversation continued as Jaejeong refilled the cup from Beom-sik.
"No one's left to arrest you now. No prosecutors, no judges. Just spill it easy. You wanna do this with me too?"
"I... never killed anyone."
"Enough, I'm tired."
"For real."
"Then why'd you do time? I put you there. Forgot?"
Beom-sik glared at Jaejeong exiting the break room with narrowed eyes.
Flashes of the old trial ran through his mind.
No "presumption of innocence" for a subordinate saddled with the underboss title.
All the circumstantial evidence nailed him for murder instigation, manslaughter by assault—15 years.
In this world, unifying back alleys with fists meant getting pinched anywhere.
That many swinging fists and bats—no way no witnesses.
A thought struck him.
We only fought among ourselves. Was that so wrong?
Keeping it in our fence, no harm to good citizens, no societal chaos—unifying evil under one roof. That big a sin?
Our existence itself the problem?
Beom-sik chuckled bitterly.
Evil always existed.
If not him, someone else would've stepped up.
Unchanging truth, food chain unbroken for millennia.
Others might call it filthy self-justification, but not him.
He had his convictions about the world he inhabited, and they carried him here—he believed that.
"Gonna drain the groundwater too? Come on, time to head down."
Jaejeong's voice snapped Beom-sik from his reverie like cold water.
"...Yeah."
"No more slow creeping like before. Hear something, see something—smash the head first, no mercy. Loosen up that scowl, man."
Jaejeong rolled his shoulders, adjusting his disheveled gear; a series of crackles echoed across the landing.
"Don't trip. If you were small, fine, but a big bear like you startled by noise, shaking the whole floor..."
"Your mouth..."
The two headed downstairs with faint smiles.