The National Representative
My hideout is a five-story villa located on the outskirts of the city. I still remember the struggle of searching for a building that offered a clear line of sight, low population density, and the perfect height back then. With time running out, finding a place in downtown Seoul that met those criteria was impossible. In the end, after countless internal compromises, I chose this place.
Most people chose to flee or barricade themselves inside their homes, but I had a three-year-old child at the time. I couldn't embark on a dangerous journey to a refugee camp; I had to move proactively with long-term survival as my only goal.
“Ta-da!”
Cheonsa flipped through several pages of a sketchbook as large as her own body from the fifth-floor window. I gave her a thumbs-up and wore the happiest smile in the world.
“Our daughter is a genius, isn't she?”
“Come here quickly! I’ll show you how I write, too.”
“Okay, I’ll be there in a bit.”
The first floor of the hideout is open, but the stairs leading to the second floor and up to the fourth are completely blocked off. I intentionally sealed them using the appliances that were on each floor. To reach the fifth floor, one had to climb a rope I had installed in advance. It was a precaution against potential zombie intrusions; while it had the advantage of safety, it was the absolute worst for moving heavy items like water jugs or generators. Still, when I thought about Cheonsa being left alone after I left for work, I was certain there was no better solution.
“Dad!”
Cheonsa, who had been waiting on the fourth floor, called out happily. It was a quiet, hushed voice, just slightly raised in tone. Even at an age where she should be running around and chattering, Cheonsa had learned how to walk without a sound and keep her voice low first.
Cheonsa looked like she was about to rush into my arms, but she didn't act on it. Until I showered, she only greeted me with her expressions and voice. I didn't want the filth I’d picked up outside to touch her.
“Tomorrow, let’s definitely eat something you like.”
“It’s okay. We have plenty of food.”
She glanced at my empty hands. Even though she quickly looked away, she couldn't fool me. Cheonsa loved eating rice with canned Spam. She insisted she liked other things too, but I knew that was a lie. In this ruined world, canned goods were the only food left, and naturally, we had to make do with them for most of our meals. She was a thoughtful child who never complained about the food, pretending to like everything, but she was still too young to hide it in her expression.
“That’s right. I turned on the generator for a bit earlier because it rained a lot.”
“You did a great job, my daughter.”
The rooftop was equipped with a generator and batteries, and it also had a small garden—the reason I had ultimately chosen this villa. The sentimental previous owner had made a flower bed, but I had pulled it all out and planted plenty of potatoes, which were easy to grow. In the winter like now, I filled large baskets with potting soil and grew them indoors. For us, potatoes were a relatively abundant food source. Since we had to eat them while they were fresh, I had tried everything—blanching, stir-frying, frying—but Cheonsa truly hated potatoes.
Ironically, I liked seeing Cheonsa hate potatoes much more than seeing her pretend to like canned food. Was it because this was a world where even minor complaints weren't allowed? Or was it because it broke my heart to see her mature so quickly, beyond her years?
Whenever she did complain, even just a little, I couldn't help but find her so cute and lovable.
“I’ll be back after a quick wash.”
“Okay!”
I went into the house and headed straight for the bathroom. I took off my clothes, tossed them aside, and placed a rubber basin under my feet. I opened the upside-down plastic bottle just enough for a thin, irregular stream of water to trickle out, and I pushed my head under it. I squeezed out a pea-sized amount of shampoo. I scrubbed it into my hair to create as much lather as possible and used that scent to wash every inch of my body. The water collected drop by drop in the basin was used for laundry, but today I was annoyed because there was an unusual amount of blood on my clothes. I felt like I would need more water to get them clean.
“Does it take long?”
“No, I’m all done.”
I grabbed a towel to dry off and changed my clothes. Cheonsa always prepared the towel and the clothes I would wear. As soon as I opened the door, she rushed into my arms as if she had been waiting. Only then did I stroke her hair and meet her eyes at her level.
“Are you hungry?”
“I’m fine. What about you, Dad?”
“My stomach is growling, isn't it?”
“No, it’s not. I don’t hear anything.”
Looking into her eyes always washed away the fatigue of the day. Who did she take after to have such bright, sharp eyes, nose, and mouth? Her bobbed hair, roughly cut with kitchen scissors, sometimes made my heart ache, but at some point, it started to look like it suited her perfectly.
“……”
Cheonsa had already washed the canned saury, the tuna, two potatoes, and the rice. As I sat down, she placed the canned saury in front of me, and for some reason, my mouth felt bitter.
“Dad promises. Tomorrow, let’s eat something really delicious.”
“I’m really okay, though?”
“Still, today is Cheonsa’s birthday.”
“It’s Dad’s birthday, too.”
“Adults don’t really celebrate birthdays.”
“Then I want to become an adult quickly, too.”
February 4th. As it happened, Cheonsa and I were born on the same day. Thanks to that, I was able to celebrate a birthday party every year, though I couldn't even remember when I’d had my last one.
“Today, I want to eat this.”
“That’s going to be really fishy, you know?”
“I’m a year older, so I’ve become a bit more of an adult. You eat the tuna, Dad.”
“You could just eat it if you were ten, but you’re only eight, so no.”
“Ugh… that’s not fair.”
Cheonsa was trying to grow up day by day, and I didn't like it. Once, I had asked her to save water, and ever since then, she wouldn't drink any, even when she was choking. The memory of how hard it was to make her understand that it was okay to drink was one of the most painful moments of my life.
“Dad will eat it just for this year. Let’s have you eat it starting next year. Okay?”
“Okay, deal!”
Only then did Cheonsa show a bright smile and pick up her fork. We didn't use separate bowls to save on dishwashing. Because of that, she ate slowly, trying to gauge the amount of rice left in the pot, and I put down my utensils with a gesture that I was full when there was just enough left.
Someday, when Cheonsa becomes a real adult and, by some chance, a parent herself, she will know. That a parent feels full just by watching their child eat.
“Dad, look at this.”
Once the dishes were done, she brought her sketchbook again. She was currently obsessed with studying Hangul, so our evenings were usually spent with me teaching her letters until she fell asleep. In truth, I knew in my head that I should be teaching her how to handle a gun and hold a combat knife, but whenever I saw colored pencils during my scavenging runs, I would find myself putting them in my backpack without even realizing it.
“I’m sleepy. I want to sleep now.”
“You have to brush your teeth first.”
After a quick wash, she lay down on one side of the bed, and I took my place beside her. Cheonsa would fall asleep after just a few pats. I listened to her soft breathing for a moment before kissing her on the forehead.
“Dad loves you so much.”
I got up carefully so as not to wake her. I sat at the desk, lit a candle, and took out an old notebook. At that moment, although I didn't look in a mirror, I felt my facial muscles stiffen and my gaze turn sharp.
‘Do running zombies have developed brain functions, or are their physical abilities just enhanced?’
The notebook was filled with disorganized survival records. Today, I had encountered a type I’d never seen before. My commute would become even more dangerous from now on. Above all, what bothered me was the existence of the yellow T-shirt.
‘The bastard didn't fall from the ledge.’
Whether it was too late and it hadn't spotted me, or whether it had sensed danger and intentionally didn't pounce—there was no way to know for sure right now. Zombies running was already outside the realm of common sense, so I couldn't rule out any possibility.
‘Its detection range was also twice as wide.’
How could it run, and why had its abilities increased? No matter what hypothesis I came up with, it was all a recipe for disaster.
“Hoo.”
I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes. Then, I recalled what I had learned at the training facility. No matter how much I thought about it, the anxiety didn't disappear. The training I had received was based on the premise that they only walked.
Where were my fellow trainees now? Were they even alive? Had they encountered running zombies, too? If it were the Bishop, he would have taught me how to deal with them.
Memories of the past spiraled, growing uncontrollably. They made me smile for a moment, only to make me feel heavy again, chasing away any chance of sleep. I realized that day was breaking.
‘There’s only that way, after all.’
There was no one to help me, and no path to run away. To survive, I had to go to work, and those bastards were not far from my hideout. Therefore, I had to end this, no matter when.
“Hoo.”
I let out a long breath and steeled my resolve. My gaze turned toward a small box carefully kept inside the drawer.
‘It’s been a while.’
The box contained about 80 rounds of revolver ammunition. My secret weapon, which I had cherished and saved, and the very things that had made me who I was today. With a solemn and desperate heart, I loaded eight rounds into each speedloader. I wiped the revolvers with a cloth lightly dampened with oil and tucked them into their holsters.
Cheonsa woke up while I was changing my clothes.
“Oh? Dad, are you going to work?”
“I left something behind yesterday. I’ll be back soon.”
“But… you said you stay home when it rains.”
The sound of rain narrows a zombie’s detection range, but it also dulls human senses. While there were exceptions when the weather was overcast and it rained in the middle of the day like yesterday, I never went to work when it rained heavily from the morning. Usually, I would just run the generator to charge the batteries or tend to the garden. But today was an exception.
I was going to kill the yellow T-shirt. As long as that bastard was alive, I couldn't guarantee Cheonsa’s safety. It felt like it was still roaming near the hideout, drooling.
“I’ll be back before 4 o’clock. No, before 3.”
“Really?”
“I promise.”
Perhaps because of the GPS movement yesterday, she looked very anxious. Even so, she held back her tears and hooked her tiny finger with mine. She probably wanted to complain, but she was trying hard to hold it in. I had never told her what "going to work" meant, but she knew instinctively. She understood that she shouldn't stop me, and that even though it was dangerous, I had to go.
“Cheonsa, what did I say Dad was?”
“A national representative…?”
“That’s right. Nothing ever happens to a national representative. But Cheonsa needs to help me a little. You’ll tell me the place I checked yesterday, right?”
“Okay…”
I ruffled her hair lightly and grabbed the rope on the fourth floor. Then, I went down to the first floor, waving back at her until she was out of sight. As soon as I disappeared from her view, her voice reached me.
-To the right from there.
The raindrops were heavy, but I didn't wear a raincoat. Unlike my rapidly dropping body temperature, my heart was feeling a burning, intense heat. When I gripped a revolver in each hand, my senses tightened like a drawn bowstring, as if I were under a spell.
‘I will kill that bastard, no matter what.’
I am not a superhuman. I don't have an immortal body, and I can't fly. My skin isn't hard enough to block their teeth, and I’m not immune to infection. I am simply a 4th-generation Hunter of the Republic of Korea, a national medalist in speed shooting, and the father of an eight-year-old girl. So, there was no room for hesitation.