Psychology

After finishing my second round, I stepped outside, only to hear Seol-hwa coughing and choking from within.

Had I been too rough?

She barely seemed experienced, and this ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠particular act looked like a complete first for her. Forcing fellatio on girls like that instead of ordinary sex…

"Isn't that the best?"

Even if she hated it, I wanted it, so I did as I pleased. Guilt? I'd sworn myself to revenge long ago and discarded that sort of thing. If anything, I felt a swell of pride that I'd been the one to take Seol-hwa's first oral experience. A memory that would never leave her, no matter what.

Just thinking about breaking that rebellious little thing and making her cling to me had me stirring again.

"Whew. A woman's mouth… it's been a real long time."

Lee Soyeon had started with the conventional approach, but this girl—her mouth. In this country especially, it was a position a lot of women refused. Forcing it on her left a lingering sense of conquest. I'd have to put Soyeon through it later, too.

The order might be a little scrambled, but I'd conquer both of them properly either way. Their bodies already belonged to me.

First the genitals, then the mouth… I wasn't trying to assign any particular meaning to it, but maybe the next girl would be the rear?

The thought alone was fun. My enjoyable new life was only just beginning.

"Kyaaaah!"

"Ha. Right. They're still outside."

I couldn't afford to get distracted. One way or another, I had to get that girl to the school. Honestly, my real goals were information and women, so I didn't strictly need to protect her. The problem was that I had nowhere safe to stash her right this second.

Lee Soyeon came to mind immediately—and I dismissed the idea just as fast. That was a straight road to ruin.

"Would Soyeon even like that?"

I'd conquered her to a degree, but she hadn't fully come over yet. Even if I'd told her I planned to take other women, casually bringing one home was another matter entirely. No matter how timid and quiet she was, drop a young girl in front of her and tell her to protect the kid—she'd love that, I'm sure.

I needed her completely mine first. For now, I had to find some other way to keep Seol-hwa safe.

I rummaged through the kitchen and lucked into a bottle of cooking oil. Fire would be a real help if I could manage it. Either way, I gathered everything heavy enough to throw.

It still wasn't enough. I decided to search the rest of the house. Besides the room we'd been in, there was a living room, a bathroom, and one more bedroom door.

"Ugh, the smell!"

A zombie ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had clearly been in there. Before putting my protective gear back on, I turned on the sink—the water sputtered out in fits and starts, an ominous sign. I washed my face anyway and picked up the gear again.

Combat mode, from here on out.

I carefully circled the room. Dried blood, a filthy bed, a desk. Nothing particularly useful—except a bookshelf and a computer that would make decent projectiles. A few notebooks sat on the desk as well.

"Any information in here?"

I flipped one open without much expectation. If it was written like a diary, it might help me grasp the situation.

The end dissolved into scattered, incoherent letters. I closed the notebook with the feeling of having just read a thoroughly unpleasant short story.

"So that's the worst-case scenario."

The fate of those who hadn't been lucky enough to survive. The fridge?

I glanced over. Through the cracked-open door, something foul was visible.

"Ugh!"

What looked like a son was enough to make my head swim. I ignored it. Looking at zombies would be better than this. I went out to the veranda, opened the window, and started baiting the howling undead below.

"Hey! What are you doing? Come on!"

The ones pounding on the front gate stared up blankly at the sound of my voice, then began hammering away in a frenzy. The front door rang like some mad bell, and they started headbutting it as if they meant to smash it open. One of them was even trying to jump the wall—and to my surprise, a few actually cleared the fence.

"These aren't ordinary zombies."

A few made it over, but that worked in my favor. I could deal with them without even going outside. From the veranda I hurled every metal object I could find—frying pans, iron bowls, kitchen knives. The zombies that had scaled the wall met messy, screaming ends, and things went quiet for a moment.

"Kuaaaah!"

As the noise kept spreading, they grew even more frenzied, the front gate thundering like a frantic drumbeat. Honestly, I'd have preferred if they just broke the door down and came in. That way I could drop things on them in a straight line. But even as they wore themselves out, the gate held firm.

"No choice, then."

I headed back to the room where Seol-hwa was waiting. She glared at me, bristling with wariness. At least she hadn't left my marking alone the way Lee Soyeon had, staring blankly at it. Her face looked smoother—she'd wiped it off, from the look of things.

"Did you write down the address?"

"Write it where?"

"Ah, right. Nowhere to write it, huh?"

I pulled out my phone.

"Tell me."

"…But it's chaos out there right now. Can we even escape?"

I smiled under her resentful stare.

"Of course. Trust your boyfriend, yeah?"

"Since when are you my boyfriend? Have you lost your mind?"

"So where is it?"

I ignored her complaints and confirmed the address. It really was close.

"What do you know. It's nearby. Just two more blocks over."

"You call that close?"

"The blocks around here are tight. It'll be quick—if it weren't for the zombies."

I smiled at her incredulous expression.

"Don't worry. Just watch."

All that remained was to open the front gate boldly. I climbed down carefully from the veranda and surveyed the first floor again. I had two plans: open the gate, lure them this way, and drop heavy objects on them—or the other option…

"Please… be there. Please."

I went down to the first floor, smashed through a veranda window, and climbed in. Something useful here would be ideal. I scoured every inch of the place until my eyes landed on the living room sofa—and on it, an object about the size of a small finger.

"A lighter."

I rushed over and shook it up and down. Liquid sloshed inside the translucent body.

"Yes. This is it!"

Now I could take them out much more easily. Lighter in hand, I went back up to the second floor, grabbed the cooking oil I'd found earlier, and started hauling the whole bookshelf into position.

"This thing is heavy as hell."

I pulled the books out separately, slathered them in cooking oil, and tossed them onto the floor. I dragged the desk out onto the veranda the same way, then headed back down to the first floor.

This was the real fight. If those zombies caught me, I was finished.

"One… two…"

I carefully pressed the button on the gate. The moment a mechanical noise sounded from the door, I turned and ran without looking back. A barrage of impacts hammered the gate, followed by the urgent sound of it swinging open.

"Kauuuu!"

"Gyaak!"

Zombie howls erupted behind me as I sprinted for the second-floor veranda. It was probably the most desperate sprint of my life.

"Hoo!"

I grabbed the second-floor railing like a madman and hauled myself up. Below me, the roar of charging zombies filled the air.

Done. I'd made it. Getting up here was enough.

I picked up a book, touched the lighter to the oil-soaked pages, and watched the flame whoosh across it. Then I dropped it onto the zombies. The burning book landed among them and the fire began to spread, one by one. In a chain reaction, their clothes caught, and the oil-soaked books scattered on the ground below erupted into flame. The place became a vision of hell.

For the finishing touch—the bookshelf that had held the burning books.

"Nngh!"

The moment I dropped the heavy thing onto the zombies, a tremendous crash rang out. Fire and weight crushed everything beneath it.

"Burns nicely!"

In the end, every zombie in the vicinity vanished magnificently into those flames. I watched for a while, then went looking for Seol-hwa.

"Did you see that? That's how you handle them…"

She was gone. I peered into the room—the window stood open, showing nothing but emptiness.

"Well now. Good of her to do exactly what I expected."

Normally I'd have been disappointed. Not me. I'd been hoping it would turn out this way from the start. All it meant was that I'd gained another pretext to bind her tighter.

"She left the address as-is, too. Rebellious little thing. That's why I like her even more."

I set off, following the address she'd given me.

In her case, she never should have been at the school to begin with. In the early days of the outbreak, everyone had treated it like some kind of epidemic—until things escalated in earnest and an emergency lockdown was declared.

Gang Haseong had always been a kind teacher. Well-liked, a good man, a good mentor. That was why, at the very start of the crisis, he had taken the lead in gathering the students. She hadn't been able to go home, and with zombies appearing everywhere, movement had become impossible.

While the phones still worked, she had at least been able to confirm her parents were alive. But once the power failed and calls became impossible, Seol-hwa wanted desperately to get back to them.

Gang Haseong stopped her every time she tried to leave. At first she trusted him and held on—but reality, unfortunately, was not so kind.

And the other men were getting rougher, too.

In the end, she couldn't take it anymore and threw in with the gymnasium faction. But the gymnasium crowd hadn't been particularly friendly to her either.

Once the demands turned blatant, she finally escaped.

Mom, I'm coming.

At first she'd thought the zombies made it impossible. But then some unwelcome visitor had cleared a path.

That bastard. Who does he think he is, calling himself my boyfriend? My boyfriend should be gentler. More lovable.

She had been violated, yes—but she wasn't going to submit the way Lee Soyeon had, or even resist quietly. She refused. Because she had never given him her heart.

"It's sticky."

Marked and forced to flee without a proper wash, her face and upper body felt damp and foul. And for reasons she couldn't explain, something strangely tacky clung to her lower half as well.

What a state I'm in. But I won. You idiot! I made it home.

She had pushed through the psychological shock and somehow managed to escape. Her home—a multi-family house four stories tall, a shabby building more than thirty years old. She checked carefully for zombies, then cautiously punched in the door code.

"Mom."

She couldn't raise her voice. She called out softly and eased the door open.

They hadn't managed to evacuate, but there was plenty of food in the house. Relatives had even sent two sacks of rice, after all.

"Mom…? I'm home. Your lovely daughter… is home."

She called carefully, but there was no answer. A high school girl's heart began to pound with fear.

It was a familiar house. The little artificial flower bouquet hanging on the wall, the painting in the center ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of the living room. The big TV she'd begged for because the old one was too small sat covered in dust.

Seol-hwa realized her body was starting to tremble. Ominous imaginings coiled around her as she made her way toward the master bedroom where her mother should be.

"Mo…m?"

Her voice was already beyond her control, emotion surging up.

"No, right? Mom. You said you'd hold on so you could see your daughter."

A presence stirred beyond the bedroom door. Clinging to one last hope, Seol-hwa opened it.

"Mo—"

She tried to speak her mother's name, the name she had missed so desperately—but what met her eyes was a mother already transformed. A zombie in her mother's shape, both arms and neck bound to the bed with rope.

"No… way."

Tears flooded out—and in that moment, the zombie's face turned toward Seol-hwa.

"Kyaaaah!"

It began thrashing madly against its bonds.

"Mom…"

Seol-hwa stumbled backward, weeping, as the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠bed rocked and heaved. The girl, reeling from shock, was still retreating when an ominous sound started up—something slamming into the doorframe.

"Kyaaaah!"

It was coming. Headbutting the door, thrashing, fighting to break free. Seol-hwa sank to the floor in tears—

"Open the door."

The front entrance rattled, and a man's voice carried through it.