The Weight of a Promise
Hyun-soo gazed at the unconscious Beom-sik, memories of the past days flooding his mind.
What would have become of him without Beom-sik?
He probably would have been trampled under the endless waves of infected, his body never even found.
And though Beom-sik always said it in a way that deflated him, looking back, every word had been meant to help.
A man as cold as ice on the outside, yet harboring something fiercely hot within.
The rest of the group was precious too, but to Hyun-soo, Beom-sik held a special place.
It wasn't that they'd spent a long time together...
Back when the waves of infected had raged like a storm.
The time inside that truck had etched itself deep into Hyun-soo's heart.
Since then, he'd always thought that if the chance came, he had to repay Beom-sik somehow.
That's why, when Beom-sik cut in line and clashed with that brute, he'd jumped in without thinking—worried he might get dragged off by the soldiers.
With Beom-sik's temperament, it wouldn't have ended until he'd laid that guy flat.
But Hyun-soo hadn't been able to join this mission.
In the end, he hadn't helped at all, and Beom-sik had been carried back here unconscious.
'Just... I figured it hasn't been easy for you either. A million words are one thing, but winning over a million hearts? Where's the easy in that? Even earning one person's trust is damn hard in this world.'
Beom-sik's words flashed through his mind.
No one else had ever said anything like that to him.
When Hyun-soo's channel blew up, people split into two camps: those clutching their stomachs in laughter, and those hurling raw abuse.
Hyun-soo's head drooped low.
He wasn't good at anything, didn't know much of anything.
He wasn't even brave, and he hated himself for it.
It stung his pride that someone like him—who could've died first without anyone batting an eye—was still alive, wallowing in this helplessness.
'You lived, you idiot. That's enough.'
'Chin up, man. You atone for shit?'
Suddenly, he recalled Beom-sik scolding him in the truck, when he'd been hunching like a criminal.
Right then.
Beom-sik's eyelids began to flutter.
Beom-sik barely lifted his heavy eyelids.
Blurry vision caught bright lights flickering by, followed by the sharp outline of ceiling tiles.
And...
It was noisy.
He tried raising his arm, but it wouldn't budge.
He twitched his fingertips. Wiggle, wiggle.
Seeing it, Hyun-soo rushed to press his ear close.
"...A bit."
"What? Hyung! What'd you say?"
"...Shut it."
"Hyung! You okay for real?"
"I said shut the fuck up."
"Ah...!"
Beom-sik swallowed dryly after forcing out the words.
His throat was parched; proper speech was impossible.
A flicker of hurt crossed Hyun-soo's face beside him.
'Ah, this kid...'
Beom-sik sighed inwardly.
Then he slowly raised a finger.
"Water."
"Water? Yeah! Hold on!"
As Hyun-soo flailed around the hospital room like a madman, Kim Chan-yeol handed over a canteen.
Hyun-soo uncapped it and tilted it toward Beom-sik's mouth, but Minyoung's voice cut in.
"Wait."
"Why?"
Hyun-soo looked puzzled, and she explained.
"Get him up on the bed first. He needs to sit up. Drinking flat like that could go into his windpipe."
"Oh! Right."
With an innocent grin, Hyun-soo fiddled with the bed's angle controls.
Creeeak! Creeeak!
Once Beom-sik was propped up enough, he slowly poured the water.
Lukewarm liquid slid down his esophagus, and sensation flooded back into his hands and feet.
He was alive.
His last conscious thought had been that he was done for.
Beom-sik scanned the room.
A bear of a man lay sprawled on the opposite bed, two soldiers watching the scene in fascination.
'Yeah, that bear. He must've saved me.'
"You good?"
The bear spoke, and Beom-sik understood.
"...The old man and Anna?"
"Fine. No need for 'em here."
"Hoo..."
Beom-sik leaned back with a sigh of relief.
To the side, the driver—just coming to—rubbed his eyes.
'You made it too.'
All he'd thought was he had to save him somehow.
Grabbing the fallen driver's shoulder and dragging with every ounce of strength—like nursing a baby—that's all that filled his mind.
Beom-sik hadn't realized saving one life could be so grueling.
He'd lived oblivious to how heavy a single life weighed.
Life...?
Wait.
Something flashed through Beom-sik's mind.
He fumbled urgently in his pocket.
Leather under his fingertips.
He gripped the wallet tight.
The kid... He had to get it to the kid.
He hadn't been able to give it when they met.
That little girl, knowing nothing, was still waiting for her dad.
Decision made, Beom-sik roughly yanked out the IV in his arm.
This wasn't the time.
"What are you doing?"
Minyoung's sharp voice rang out, but he ignored it.
Staggering to his feet, Beom-sik steadied himself against the wall.
Hyun-soo blocked his path.
"Hyung! What the hell? When you're hurt, listen to Minyoung noona. Where do you think you're going like this?"
"Hey."
Their eyes met.
"You wanna help me or not?"
"Yeah."
"Then move. That's helping."
"No, you gotta tell me why."
Beom-sik sighed, about to shove past.
"Haa, I'll explain when I get back. It's important."
"Just let him go, Hyun-soo. He's not the type to explain. Must be urgent."
Han Jaejeong's soothing voice came from the sidelines.
Convinced, Hyun-soo stepped aside.
Minyoung, rising to stop him, shook her head and sat back down.
Beom-sik wasn't one to heed words easily.
After a brief wobble, he found his balance and strode out of the hospital with steady steps.
Military boots thudded behind Beom-sik as he exited the tower.
Turning, he saw Kim Chan-yeol and Sergeant Choi hustling over, buckling their helmet straps.
"What?"
"You can't roam alone anyway. Might as well be us. Better than strangers, right?"
Beom-sik nodded and quickened his pace toward the boundary zone.
His mind was filled only with thoughts of the child left alone.
No one spoke as they moved with him.
They passed checkpoints between zones with a high-pass wave.
Beom-sik's urgency showed in his strides, and sensing the tension, Kim Chan-yeol and Sergeant Choi matched his pace.
Finally, the boundary zone.
Beom-sik bolted through the fence toward somewhere.
Kim Chan-yeol and Sergeant Choi didn't need to follow, but curiosity pulled them along.
The boundary zone stirred at the sudden soldiers.
Beom-sik scanned around.
Clearly searching for someone.
Then.
"Here."
Anna's voice came from by the flower bed.
She was with the little girl.
The child clutched a small doll to her chest, eyes full of unease.
Looking into those eyes... Beom-sik's chest crumbled.
Like seeing his little sister from childhood, he couldn't bear it.
His nose stung.
When his parents passed and his brother—the last family—went to juvie, had his sister, left alone, looked like this?
The child's eyes widened at spotting Beom-sik.
Because she recognized him?
Beom-sik approached slowly.
Hand in pocket, fingering the wallet.
How to give it.
What to say.
A torrent of thoughts raced through his head.
Beom-sik knelt before her, meeting her eyes.
No words.
Just a silent embrace.
He couldn't pinpoint where the emotion welled from.
Longing for the sister he'd parted from as a child? Guilt for failing her father? Whatever it was, he couldn't turn away from this girl anymore.
He pulled back, placed the wallet in her tiny hand.
Her father's wallet.
The child didn't know death.
But she sensed she'd never see Dad again.
That Dad had gone somewhere beyond her reach.
That no one would turn at her call of "Daddy," no one would scoop her up with love on demand.
Tears welled in the child's eyes.
And in Beom-sik's.
On the verge of sobs, she bit her lip hard, holding back as if intuiting her fate.
Beom-sik hugged her again.
'It's okay. I'll protect you now.'
As if sensing it instinctively, she buried her face in his chest and sobbed quietly.
Anna watching, Kim Chan-yeol and Sergeant Choi's eyes reddened too.
They had fathers once.
Anna had witnessed hers die before her eyes.
Unbearable agony, sorrow, emptiness.
That was the inheritance left to Anna—and this child.
Pain too vast for a child to bear.
The tattooed gang, arriving late and spotting Beom-sik, watched in hushed awe.
They'd never seen him like this.
Not shedding tears.
Not hurting with someone else.
It flustered them more, hit deeper.
Beom-sik parted from the embrace and met her eyes again.
One thing was clear.
She couldn't survive here.
Beom-sik turned toward the production zone.
He bore responsibility.
No one demanded it, but he felt it acutely.
Then.
"Walk with me a bit."
A familiar voice reached Beom-sik's ear.
Turning, there stood Youngman.
Beom-sik entrusted the child to Anna and walked the outer wall with him.
The expanded zone offered a full view of the riverside.
They strolled along it.
"About that child..."
Youngman eyed Beom-sik cautiously before continuing.
"Have you thought it through?"
"What?"
"Reaching out to someone drowned in grief isn't simple. Especially embracing them like that. And for a child who needs an adult's touch absolutely— all the more so."
"What're you getting at?"
Beom-sik scowled, frustrated by the cryptic words.
"If you're not committing to see it through, stop here. Bouncing from hand to hand leaves the child with nothing but false hope and scars."
"What, you think I can't?"
"It's not about grit. Raising a person—a life—is beyond what you imagine. I failed Minyoung plenty, but taking responsibility means that: unbreakable for life. Even for my own blood, I wearied—think it'll hold for a stranger with no tie? In this godforsaken world?"
Youngman crossed his arms, staring Beom-sik down.
Beom-sik stayed silent.
He couldn't parse it.
Was it genuine concern, or distrust of Lee Beom-sik himself?
"And if we escape the peninsula to safety abroad? What then? You gonna lone-wolf it forever? She could become a liability."
"How do you live thinking that far ahead every choice?"
Youngman sighed at Beom-sik's retort.
He wanted to teach him.
That responsibility wasn't a snap emotional call.
But the timing sucked.
Beom-sik, face heating, pressed on.
"You can't live obsessing over distant futures. I don't—never have. All that matters is my heart says I must take responsibility for her. This is my atonement."
"Atonement? For what? Never mind. If that's your mindset starting out, I oppose it more."
Beom-sik's brow twitched, mood souring.
This doggedness wasn't mere worry.
It questioned his very qualification.
"I'll handle my own affairs."
Beom-sik stared Youngman straight in the eye.
His gaze aggressive, Youngman frowned naturally.
Tension sparked unintended.
The air grew heavier.
"Your eyes say you'll do anything if I block you."
"Don't preach."
"What's your damn problem?"
Turning to leave, Beom-sik shot back coldly.
"The problem's you, old man."
"Can't control your own emotions, yet you wanna take responsibility for someone?"
Youngman's tone bruised Beom-sik's pride.
As if labeling him unfit, unqualified.
Treating him like a child.
"Last warning. Don't preach."
"If you truly care for the child, find someone who can actually—"
"Save your sermons for the daughter you raised on cash from chopping heads of nameless bastards!"
Infected People