Night of Vigilance

As Seo Yeong-ju's laughter, which had filled the entire machine room, gradually faded, an awkward silence settled back into its place.

After a long stretch of quiet, Yang Jin-ju—the one who seemed to lead the two—rose first. She slid her pistol back into the worn holster at her hip, the gesture both a show of trust and a confession of exhaustion.

"…That's enough for today. You two look completely worn out."

She cast me a look of particular pity. The expression no longer bothered to hide itself; it said everything with perfect clarity.

If his brain has to invent delusions this elaborate and detailed just to endure that nightmare of a reality, how hard must things have been for him? Poor guy.

Or maybe I was only thinking that because the whole situation was so mortifying I wanted to crawl into a hole…

"There's a small storage room further in. It's empty, so rest there for tonight. The floor will be cold, but at least it's enclosed on all sides—should be reasonably safe."

She jerked her chin toward a cramped space in the corner of the machine room, screened off by an old iron door mottled with red rust.

Nam Jin-ju stood as well and added her own words. She spoke carefully, gently, the way one might soothe a child throwing a tantrum—and the tone made it clear she was treating me less like an adult man and more like a patient who needed protection and management.

"Yeah, get some real rest tonight. When people are pushed too hard, they start seeing things that aren't there, thinking strange thoughts. That's not your fault. It's just… the world is that cruel. Sleep warm, clear your head, and we'll talk again tomorrow. Okay?"

I was grateful for the consideration, but the naked sympathy and pity buried inside it carved a pit of misery straight through my chest. All I could do was nod.

Once they confirmed we were heading into the storage room, the sound of a heavy steel cabinet being shoved into place came from outside.

Part of it was probably meant to cut off any danger we might pose—but it was also a thoroughly rational measure in this world: protecting both us and themselves from whatever threats might come from outside.

"…I figured they'd react like that, but actually living through it is still insanely embarrassing."

I stared at the closed door, then turned around. The narrow space was sealed on every side by cold concrete, lit only by the faint glow of a ventilation fan set into the far wall—no windows. Barely enough room for two people to lie down if they pressed close enough to feel each other's body heat.

"…Serves you right. Really serves you right."

Yeong-ju's voice drifted out of the dark, still thick with teasing.

"Give it a rest, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠will you?"

I answered weakly and slid down against the wall. The cold rising from the floor cut straight through my clothes and seemed to sink into my bones.

Yeong-ju edged closer and settled beside me.

For a while neither of us spoke. Only the soft voices of the two Jin-jus and the sounds of them moving around outside reminded us we weren't alone.

"Still… how long has it been since we slept under an actual roof? And with someone barricading the door for us, no less?"

I muttered. For the past several days we had been forced to sleep back-to-back on the rooftops of ruined buildings or inside cars with broken doors, waking at the slightest noise like rabbits.

"True. But it's a little tight for both of us to lie down."

She was right. If we slept back-to-back, we might just barely fit. It felt like lying inside a coffin.

"You lie down. I'll sleep sitting up. Someone has to keep watch anyway."

I rested my head against the wall as I spoke.

"Forget it. You'll just doze off. We take turns."

As she said it, I heard her rummage inside her clothes. In the dark came the sharp scrape of metal against fabric. A moment later she pressed a cold, familiar object into my hand—the palm-sized emergency dagger she always kept hidden against her thigh.

That, honestly, was one of the reasons we had followed these two women so readily. They hadn't even searched us…

"Why this?"

"I'm sleeping first, so you take first watch. Wake me in two hours. And… don't trust those people completely yet."

"I know."

I clenched the dagger. The chill of the grip snapped my mind sharp.

"They do seem like rare good people. How often do you meet strangers in this world who hand you precious cola and snacks and even give you a place to sleep? But… you know."

Yeong-ju finished my thought for me, her voice dropping all at once.

"…Thinking about that third survivor group we ran into, it's hard to trust anyone completely. Right?"

Survivor group.

Those two words were an unforgettable trauma for ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠us—and the hardest lesson this hell had taught.

"Those bastards… spent seven whole days pretending to be decent people. Laughing with us, sharing food, watching each other's backs… and the whole time they were just waiting for us to drop our guard so they could eat us. Worse than dogs."

Disgust coated every word.

I closed my eyes against the memory that rose unbidden. In the dark it felt as if the nightmare itself were coming back to life.

There we met a survivor group of about ten people. Their leader was a man in his mid-forties who asked us to call him Uncle. He was solidly built, always wore a friendly smile, and when he found us he welcomed us like long-lost nephews and nieces.

Aigoo, how hard must it have been for young people like you out in this brutal world all alone.

Come on in. I just finished boiling some warm broth—have a bowl.

How about it? If we help each other out, we can get through this endless winter just fine.

His words had been an oasis in the desert.

Even we, whose distrust of humanity had reached its peak after betrayal after betrayal and death after death, slowly began to lower our guard in the face of their organized ways and steady, warm hospitality.

We stood thorough twenty-four-hour watches according to a duty roster, and the hard-won food was divided so fairly it felt as if they were weighing it down to the gram.

A miraculous community blooming in the middle of despair. While we were there, I felt so secure that the word Shelter never once left my mouth.

Yeong-ju and I spent seven days with them.

We went into the dangerous city together to scavenge supplies, and we stayed up all night welding to reinforce the warehouse's weak barricades.

At night we sat around a fire lit in a massive drum barrel, laughing as we traded trivial stories from a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠past we could no longer reach. In those moments it felt less like a world crawling with zombies and more like ordinary people enjoying a campfire—and little by little, we began to trust them.

The incident happened on the night of the eighth day. The wind was especially cold that evening. Uncle brought out a bottle of liquor he had been saving specially—to celebrate our joining the group and to steel ourselves for the coming winter. It was a dusty, unlabeled bottle of hard liquor.

"You've all been working hard. Today's a special day, so let's each have a drink and beat the cold. Drink up and sleep well tonight—we'll need our strength again tomorrow."

He poured the liquor into paper cups one by one. Strangely, though, he never offered any to Yeong-ju or me. When he stopped in front of us, I had already prepared myself to take a cup.

"You two are still so young—this stuff's probably too strong for you. No point getting sick over a drink. Young folks can just have this."

He handed us a plastic bottle of lukewarm electrolyte drink. At the time I naively thought he was being considerate, treating us like kids who still hadn't shaken off the look of students. I never once noticed the cold calculation hidden behind that kindly smile.

Looking back now, the act of passing out the liquor had been a signal among themselves—a ritual that clearly marked us as prey.

That night, by coincidence, the watch fell to Yeong-ju and me. The others, drunk on the strong liquor, quickly staggered off to their beds one by one. The warehouse fell silent in an instant; only the occasional crackle of burning wood from the fire remained.

"They're really out cold, huh? Do you think they completely trust us now?"

I whispered to Yeong-ju while warming myself by the fire. Instead of answering, she stared into the darkened depths of the warehouse, a faint crease between her brows.

"What's wrong? Something off?"

"I don't know. Just… something feels weird."

"Weird how? Everyone drank and went to sleep. You're making me nervous."

"No. Even for strong liquor, they fell asleep way too fast. And… it's too quiet."

Her words made me feel it too. The snoring that usually filled the place, the sleep-talking, the rustling of people turning over—none of it could be heard that night. The warehouse was deathly still, as if everyone had agreed in advance simply to lie there.

And then—whether he had overheard us or not—I saw Uncle, who had been pretending to sleep in the dark, open his eyes without a sound. The eyes that caught the firelight were not the eyes of a drunk man.

He slowly sat up, exchanged a look with the man lying beside him, and nodded.

As if on cue, they all rose at once. In their hands were kitchen knives sharpened to a razor edge and iron rods filed to wicked points—things they had kept hidden under their pillows.

They had never been drunk. It had all been an eight-day-long, meticulously rehearsed performance meant to deceive us completely.

"…Oh, fuck."

A low curse slipped from Yeong-ju's lips. I felt every drop of blood in my body turn to ice.

Those kind-looking people—every time their food ran low, they might have been luring wandering survivors like us, fattening us up with false security, then treating us as nothing more than protein to keep themselves alive.

"Hey now, the young ones are a little too sharp—takes the fun out of it. I was going to wait until the shift change tomorrow and let you go quietly in your sleep."

Uncle no longer wore the smile of a good man as he approached. His eyes had stopped smiling entirely.

"Come quietly and there won't be any pain. World's like this—what can you do? The strong survive, and the weak become food for the strong. Law of nature, right? If you want to blame someone, blame this fucked-up world."

The moment he finished speaking, more than ten men closed a semicircle around us. There was nowhere to run. Their eyes were no longer human—only the greedy stare of a pack of starving hyenas.

That was when Yeong-ju seized my hand and whispered like a madwoman. Her hand was ice-cold, yet it held a desperate will to live.

"Yeong-chan. That flare I picked up a while back—remember? It's in my pocket!"

"Huh… why would we…"

"If we set it off outside, every one of those things will swarm this warehouse within ten minutes. We'll be in danger too, but at least we die together!"

Whether he heard her or not, Uncle snorted a laugh.

"Heh— a flare? Young lady, sure, that'll bring them running.

But before that we just cut both your throats and lock the iron door. And more importantly… do you two even have the guts? Willing to die here nice and cozy with us? Think you can manage that?"

He was right—setting off the flare meant accepting mutual destruction. A flicker of extreme hesitation crossed Yeong-ju's face.

In that exact instant, I moved. Whether the circuits of reason and fear in my head had simply shorted out, or whether the thought I'd rather we all die than get caught and become their food! had taken over—I snatched the flare from Yeong-ju's hand, pulled the safety pin without a second of hesitation, and fired it straight at the ceiling.

Fweee— BOOM!

A flash and a piercing roar shook the warehouse. My vision turned entirely red; the only sound left in my ears was the sizzle of the falling flare.

Uncle and his men screamed at the unexpected move, covering their eyes against the blinding light and staggering.

"You crazy bastard! You actually set it off?!"

Uncle bellowed. I didn't waste the opening—I grabbed the hand of Yeong-ju, who was still standing dazed.

"Yeong-ju, snap out of it! Run!"

She came to her senses and we sprinted for the exit together. A few men whose vision had recovered swung iron pipes at us as they charged, but we desperately dodged their attacks and threw ourselves toward the massive iron door of the warehouse.

"They're going for the door?! Don't let those crazy bastards open it!"

Uncle's scream rang out behind us. We slammed our full weight against the heavy bolt. With a grinding screech the massive ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠door swung open, and the cold night air rushed in—along with the hungry howls of hundreds, thousands of zombies pouring toward us like a choir from the distance.

The moment we burst outside, as if we had planned it, we hurled ourselves up onto the old dump truck that had been parked at the warehouse entrance like a defensive barricade. The cargo bed was empty; we tumbled into it and hid.

Uncle and his men, who had recovered enough to chase us out, froze in horror at the nightmare waiting beyond the door. Drawn by the flare's intense light and noise, every zombie in the area was already surging toward the warehouse like a massive tsunami.

"Fuck… fuck! Close the door! Close the goddamn door, you sons of bitches! Hurry!"

Uncle screamed like a madman. They scrambled to shut it again, but it was already too late.

The foremost zombies poured into the warehouse like a wave, and behind them came an endless procession of death.

"Kyaaaah! S-stop them somehow!"

"Don't push! We have to close the door first!"

The predators who had meant to devour us were now the prey, screaming in despair as they swung their weapons.

"Now! Run."

The instant every scrap of their attention locked onto the zombies flooding the warehouse, we slipped silently out of the dump truck's cargo bed and ran into the darkness without looking back.

And that night, in the end, we survived.

"…Yeong-chan. Seo Yeong-chan."

Yeong-ju's voice pulled me back. I realized I had been holding my breath without knowing it. My whole body was clammy with cold sweat, and my heart was hammering the way it had that night.

"You okay?"

"Yeah… I'm fine. Just… thinking about back then."

"Don't worry. Those bastards are nothing but bones by now."

She spat the words like a curse. I gripped the dagger even tighter. The cold of the handle dragged me back into the present.

"Yeah. You're right. They're all dead."

Silence filled the room again. Outside, small noises suggested the twin Jin-jus were preparing their own beds; then everything went completely quiet. They must have fallen asleep.

"…I'm exhausted. I'm going first."

Yeong-ju rested her head against my shoulder as she spoke.

"Okay. Sleep well. I'll keep watch."

I leaned deeper into the wall. In truth, I intended to stay awake the entire night against any possible danger.

Yang Jin-ju and Nam Jin-ju. Were they good people? Or a second "Uncle"? Had the cola and snacks they offered been symbols of goodwill?

Wanting to escape the tangle of thoughts, I opened the status window.

After confirming Yeong-ju's name on the status window, I closed my eyes in the dark, then opened them again—focusing every nerve on even the faintest sound from outside.