Baekdu Exclusion Zone
Near Paektu Mountain, Chinese military outpost.
Du-du-du-du!
Du-du-du-du!
Bullets rained down like a storm on the endless zombies surging from the horizon.
From the rear, tanks and air force barrages provided support fire, while drones dropped small bombs right above the horde's heads.
It had been going on for hours now, with no end in sight.
The more they killed, the more seemed to pour in.
One soldier grumbled.
"They made it from Pyongyang here in less than a week. If they break through here, it's game over for all of us."
"Don't jinx it, just aim straight."
His comrade snapped back, but the anxiety was mutual.
"What the hell happened? I thought the 38th parallel was holding."
"How should I know? We just follow orders. Don't think about it—higher-ups have a plan. You think they'd tell us to abandon the border?"
"Just nuke the bastards."
"You nuts? Paektu's right overhead—what do you think happens then?"
"Look at you, Mr. Educated."
The soldiers could only straighten up and lean against something for a brief rest after the zombie wave finally ebbed.
Meanwhile, at the command post in the rear, the Northern District Commander overseeing the Manchurian region watched the situation unfold alongside his generals.
"Ammo's running dry soon, General! We can't hold like this!"
One general shouted urgently, and the others chimed in.
"This isn't something support fire can fix. We'd have to wipe out North Korea's entire population. And the numbers keep growing."
The Northern District Commander, the center of all eyes, said nothing.
His face was lost in deep thought.
Then another general slammed the table.
"Just blast 'em all to hell! Whether it's tens of millions or hundreds, smash 'em flat. If you're so stingy with bullets, launch missiles!"
"No, no. That won't do."
The commander, who had been silent, waved a hand dismissively.
"The Party's extremely sensitive about this. You can't just missile-strike scattered infected like that. Unless it's nukes."
The mention of nukes left the generals speechless.
In terms of international relations, nukes couldn't be justified under any circumstances.
It would hand rival nations every excuse they needed.
And with Russia—hypersensitive to nuclear energy since Chernobyl—looming above them, it was a non-starter.
"So quit whining and wait. We're reporting the situation—they'll make a call."
Just then, an officer burst into the command post.
"Commander, you need to see this."
The commander took the single sheet of paper.
As he read it slowly, his face twisted in complication.
"What does it say?"
To the general's question, the commander recited quietly, almost chanting.
"...Missile-strike the entire North Korean region to oblivion. Exclude the Paektu Mountain vicinity. Hold this line with bullets only."
"Why?"
"Missile impacts could shock the ground, trigger an artificial quake, and set off Paektu. Spread the word and throw everything into holding the front."
As the commander stepped out, his phone rang.
"Yes, speak."
He answered with utmost courtesy, knowing who it was.
"Yes, that's my concern too. If the strikes directly impact South Korea, it could jeopardize operations there. Especially if North's nuclear fuel sites are hit—radiation..."
His words cut off mid-sentence. After a long listen, he replied with a resigned face.
"Understood. We'll do it. Yes, yes. It'll be handled without issue."
Hanging up, the commander walked to a spot where a junior officer—too low-ranking for direct command meetings—waited.
They conversed naturally, as if not their first time.
"Operation on track?"
"Yes. Contacting ROK forces in the West Sea soon. Smooth sailing."
"Good. Can't keep waiting on those failed-state politicians. You know how seriously the Party views this?"
"Of course. Swift and silent."
"This is our lifeline. Transmit launch orders immediately. Once given, it's all about speed."
The officer saluted and vanished.
Alone, the commander couldn't shake his rising doubts.
Where the hell did they breach?
The only land route was the 38th parallel, yet infection spread instantly across all of North Korea.
Incomprehensible.
Failure meant certain demotion.
He had to succeed, no matter what.
Resolve blazed in the commander's eyes.
Republic of Korea Southwest Sea, Ulleungdo Ship.
In the small cabin sat a middle-aged man in a suit.
His neat attire and piercing gaze marked him as no ordinary figure.
The door opened, and an officer entered—name tag reading Major Kang Jin-hyeok, who had communicated with the group before.
"President, any discomfort?"
"Discomfort... More like, how long must I stay cooped up?"
"Cooped up? We're protecting you."
"From whom? Oh, those pushing for China?"
Major Kang held his tongue.
The president, frustrated by the silence, emphasized.
"Let me say it again: that won't happen. If we go, it'll be after rescuing every Yeouido survivor. That's what you want too."
"Our views differ, but pushing into Yeouido for survivors is undeniably risky."
"So abandon them for exile?"
"Of course not. With generals missing, command's shaky, and deciding Korea's fate on this cramped transport is tough—but we'll follow your lead."
"Then why confine me? I need to go persuade people to set a course."
Major Kang bowed his head, troubled.
No more hiding from the president.
Doubt was about to erupt.
"President, listen closely. What I'm about to say ties directly to your safety."
"Out with it."
"Situation's dire. Troops and officers are splitting two ways: use serum to negotiate with Yeouido survivors for another path, or..."
"Keep me locked in this cabin and flee to China?"
"...Yes."
"Haa..."
The president rubbed his throbbing head, deep in thought.
It wasn't just bad—it was catastrophic.
Here, he was no president, just a tool.
A means to preserve their lives.
President alone was worthless.
China and Russia were using the peninsula crisis to block Western entry outright.
Claiming self-defense, they demanded material aid from the West instead.
Meaning a presidential title wouldn't secure exile.
China wouldn't welcome a Korean government on their soil.
Better if they all died here.
With US forces withdrawn, swallowing the peninsula whole was easy.
But then the wildcard appeared.
The immune serum the president held.
That was the issue.
Poison without antidote was useless.
But if an antidote existed somewhere, that poison became the prize for whoever grabbed it first.
In other words, the serum's holder could wield zombie virus as absolute power.
This bag, more precious than his life.
It contained the serum.
And he planned to use it as leverage for everyone's survival.
He pondered.
What if they went to China?
Humiliation in settling there, but lives preserved, nation's lineage continued.
The president spoke.
"So what's the plan? If no compromise?"
"..."
"Why hide so much? Tell me what you know. Don't let the sacrifices for this bag be in vain. If words fail, use force!"
Major Kang's eyes widened briefly.
"Opponents are my comrades too. Can't point guns at brothers we've crossed hell with. I'm persuading—give it time."
"Any choice as long as with survivors, I'll back you. Any."
Vitality returned to the president's eyes.
Major Kang escaped the heavy gaze and left the cabin.
Up on deck, he stared at the distant sea.
The nation's fate hung by a thread.
Just months ago an advanced nation, now Korea survived only by handing over an uncertain immune serum.
He glanced at his comrades and juniors.
Once united on this ship, prolonged isolation bred division.
Truthfully, Major Kang couldn't claim what was right.
China was quick; survivors meant the long road.
Each had pros and cons—no perfect answer.
Just follow the head of state, final decider.
Because that's what soldiers did.
Problem: on this ship, presidential authority was rock bottom.
No one cared for a fallen nation's leader.
Only immediate escape mattered.
If to China...
Would it solve everything?
They might never return to this birthplace soil.
Perhaps branded global death zone, forbidden forever.
A deep sigh, eyes back to sea.
Sunset's ominous red blanketed the world.
Just like Korea's fate.
Infected People