The Mysterious Letter

A zombie's simple nature is just what you get from being a zombie. The real danger ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠is the moment right before they turn — after that, they're nothing special.

Just as a zombie that had desperately smashed through the door stuck its head through the gap, my crossbow blew its skull clean off.

"Now that's satisfying."

No matter how I looked at it, swapping out the arrowheads had been the right call. The drop in destructive power from the increased rate of fire was more than compensated for.

The interior of the apartment was ordinary. The room itself was small enough to confirm it belonged to a child — a study desk and a computer sat inside.

There was also the corpse of an adult man in a military uniform.

But I paid it no mind. My purpose wasn't collecting remains or offering comfort.

Fulfilling my own desires and the goals of the one who came before me — that was all that mattered. Everything else was unnecessary.

I only looked when something caught my interest. Digging through the desk and notebooks for scraps of information, that sort of thing.

Like the story of that woman whose mind had gone strange last time.

Even if it was useless, it still helped me grasp the situation better.

I rummaged through the notebooks until my eyes landed on a diary.

"Ah. Predictable stuff."

Judging by the contents, it had been written after the power went out.

Naturally — before that, people mostly used their phones.

I glanced at a cellphone discarded like some antique.

"As long as there's no password, it should be fine."

I had electricity. Using that to check the information wouldn't be a problem.

Anyway, the diary entries after the blackout were simple enough.

A story of a household that was already a mess, completely destroyed by the zombie outbreak.

"What? Mom ran away — then who the hell was the female zombie I just killed?"

It had definitely been a woman. Someone who'd gotten lucky and wandered in, same as me?

I took a closer look at the grotesquely transformed face. An old face — a middle-aged woman.

I stepped out into the living room and searched for photographs. There was one of a mother and child smiling together.

"A mole… yeah, there's a mole."

The zombie, its head covered in brain matter and fragments, had a mole in the exact same spot.

"Ugh!"

I gagged, but I had to make the comparison. No choice.

"So it is the mom. Did her escape fail? But there's no kid zombie anywhere."

The questions lingered, but that wasn't what mattered right now. I'd used my bag as a prop earlier, so I needed to retrieve it — and zombies were going berserk on both sides.

"Right. None of this stuff belongs to me anyway."

Leaving the shattered TV in the living room behind, I threw open the window frames in earnest. I kicked the rotten houseplants out of the way and started prepping the heavy stuff, starting with the sofa.

"A present for you bastards!"

The zombies murmuring below all locked onto me.

"Kyaaaaah!"

Of course those die-hard fans came charging with everything they had. A gift barrage was only appropriate.

"My love's a little heavy, you know? Catch!"

In one go, the sofa and every piece of furniture began their freefall. Zombies got crushed underneath, the noise drew more of them in, and then they spotted me again.

"Kraaaah!"

"Gyaak! Gyaruk!"

Amid the full zombie ensemble, the celebration show went off in grand style.

Desk, chair, even the broken TV — by the time I'd thrown everything, zombie blood was splattered in every direction.

But there were simply too many of them. This alone couldn't finish the job.

If I'd had cooking oil, I could have set them on fire the way I had with Seol-hwa.

"I've got the oil, but no lighter."

Right. The lighter was still in my bag. Meaning I'd have to pick them off one by one with the crossbow.

"Fine. That much is nothing."

Only five or six left. Four bolts remaining in the crossbow.

"…Anything else I can throw?"

In the end, I tore through the apartment like a man possessed, hunting for more ammunition.

Fortunately, there was plenty — iron pots, kitchen knives, the works. That was when I found a letter tucked away in the back of the kitchen.

"What, more self-pity?"

I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠felt nothing, but I was short on time, so I dealt with the zombies first.

I worked through them diligently until the number of zombies and remaining bolts finally matched — then I put a bolt through the last skull.

"Haa… seriously."

Corpses sprawled out in front of me. Beneath them, a zombie that was still barely alive let out a low moan.

Ugly sight, but once I punched through this stretch, there wouldn't be many zombies left. Meaning I could run straight through.

"That was a close one."

Composure restored, I opened the door with confidence — and found a zombie smashing its head against the stairs.

"…Shit!"

"Kyaa? Kyaaaaah!"

I slammed the front door shut in a hurry. Of course there would be zombies on the other floors of this building.

I decided to wait until the pounding quieted down.

"Alright. Let's see what she was rambling about."

While the zombie hammering on the front door settled down, I read the letter this mother had written.

"Let's see. What kind of sob story is— huh?"

And my mouth fell open at the contents.

From the very first paragraph, the letter carried an ominous weight. My eyes tore through the rest of it in a single breath.

Like so many others facing the zombie crisis, they had been late to act and slow to move.

Of course, with a child barely ten years old, proper flight was never going to be easy.

"I thought we could make it…"

In the end, only after hearing that the military was being pushed back did she try to leave — but zombies were already entrenched everywhere.

From the perspective of Jin Dohyuk, who would arrive months later, the roads would feel as open as a cleared highway. For these two, with no vehicle of any kind, it was a road through hell.

And then there was the problem of her son's behavior.

"Open the door! Open the goddamn door!"

She glanced toward the room where he was cursing and pounding, and let out a long sigh.

A cord tied to the doorknob connected it to another door, making it impossible for the boy to open it with his own strength.

"My own child…"

Her son had been violent and aggressive since kindergarten.

He hit other kids at the drop of a hat, tormented them — and because of that, she was constantly being summoned to the school.

This child killed every goldfish the class was raising!

He seems to have serious psychological problems.

For a woman already struggling as a single parent, her son's behavior was more than enough stress.

Every time she looked in the bathroom mirror, she saw a face that had aged overnight.

At least the water still worked. That was the only comfort.

If she let the boy out, he would charge at her and turn violent.

He was still only ten, so she could control him — but the situation was draining ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠every last drop of her strength.

The military had distributed food supplies while they were still stationed nearby, but now there was no word at all.

What do I do? Can I leave that child behind?

If she were alone, she could join the people heading for the university or the park. But the child was the problem.

She needed to persuade him properly — yet she dreaded facing that savage boy.

Even so, Lee Jin-ah opened the door she had barred for his sake.

The moment he came out, she saw a face twisted like a demon's.

"Why didn't you open the door sooner?! Why won't you open it?!"

"Jae-jun. Listen to Mom carefully. Right now we—"

"Food! Give me food!"

"You already ate earlier. We don't have any more food. We have to leave this place now."

She explained calmly, and the boy seemed to understand for a moment, nodding his head.

Thank god.

She was grateful he'd listened — but that night, Lee Jin-ah woke to a rustling sound.

"Jae-jun?"

The moment she opened her eyes and stepped into the living room, she witnessed something unthinkable.

Her own child, knife in hand, charging straight at her.

"Jae-jun!"

A searing sensation flashed across the back of her hand. Her own child had stabbed her.

"Aagh!"

In that instant, a rage Lee Jin-ah had rarely felt in her life surged up inside her.

She slapped the boy across the face and got the situation under control.

This can't be… Jae-jun, attacking me?

Blood ran down the back of her hand. A child attacking his parent? ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Lee Jin-ah reeled from the shock.

When the boy flinched and started to get up, her fist flew before she even realized it.

She hit him, and hit him again, until he was bawling.

"Kyaaaaah!"

Then the front door slammed hard and a zombie's cry rang out, and only then did Lee Jin-ah come back to her senses.

"What… what have I done…"

A sobbing child. And zombies. Barely holding herself together, she shoved the boy back into his room and shut the door again.

"Hah… hah…"

Ragged breathing and the relentless pounding of zombies. Lee Jin-ah had no choice but to sit through the night with her eyes wide open.

She held on until she blacked out for a moment — and when she woke, bright sunlight was streaming through the window. That was when a small scream came from inside the room.

"!"

She rushed over in alarm, and a crashing, thrashing sound erupted from within.

"No!"

And the moment she heard not her son's voice but an adult man's, Lee Jin-ah threw the door open in shock.

Inside, a man in a military uniform lay collapsed with blood pouring from his neck — and her son stood over him, gripping a military knife, smiling.

"Mom…?"

"Jae-jun!"

She had no idea what had happened, but she ran to her son first and checked him over.

Aside from gasping for breath and being drenched in sweat, he seemed unharmed.

"What on earth happened?"

"H-he broke in… he tried to kill me…"

Behind them, the soldier groaned.

"That's not true. I was under orders—"

"L-l-lies…!"

"Aaaagh!"

Jae-jun screamed and drove the knife straight through the soldier's throat again.

And that was the end of it.

Lee Jin-ah still couldn't grasp what she was looking at.

Her child's ruthless knife work. A soldier dying. Nothing but chaos filled her mind.

When the boy dropped the knife and started crying, maternal instinct took over — Lee Jin-ah pulled him into her arms.

My child was only trying to defend himself. That man came to loot.

She chose to believe her own child. As a parent, that was the choice Lee Jin-ah made.

"Mom… I didn't do anything wrong."

"Just trust Mom. Okay? Our Jae-jun didn't do anything wrong."

The boy sniffled, and Lee Jin-ah steeled her resolve.

Right. How could I ever leave this child behind?

She hardened her heart once more and began preparing to escape with her son.

But there was a problem. Stabbing a person through the neck kills them — it does not kill a zombie.

It wouldn't take long for the dead man's body to turn.

Knowing that, she took the military knife from her son.

It's heavy.

She had no idea where a ten-year-old found the strength to wield something like this, but she used it to drive the blade into the zombie's head.

Zombies don't come back if you destroy the head.

She was letting out a breath when something bulky caught her eye inside the soldier's jacket.

Hoping it might be food, she reached in and searched — and what she found was something far more startling.

Amazingly, it was a set of orders scrawled on a scrap of paper. Crude in format — but the soldier had not come to attack them.

"Wh…?"

Lee Jin-ah couldn't make sense of it. Then what was her son?

Her eyes fell on a half-written notebook. The chair had been knocked over, the notebook left open and shoved into a corner.

The moment Lee Jin-ah picked it up and read the contents, a chill ran down her spine.

Just as Jin Dohyuk would later see — she herself had been written about as if she were an abuser.

"…What? What…?"

"Mom?"

An ominous sound came from behind her. Her own child was calling her name.

"Jae-jun…?"

"You saw it, huh?"

Was it a lie that the boy's voice suddenly sounded so sickeningly sweet and sly?

In Lee Jin-ah's eyes, her son stood with veins bulging across his entire body.

"I-I-I… was hu-hurting yesterday… but I… feel stronger now."

"Jae-jun."

"But I don't like it."

Lee Jae-jun's face, blue veins standing out, snapped back to normal in an instant.

As if nothing had happened at all.

"Talking is hard. You want to know why I turned out like this? It's because Mom tormented me and locked me up until I got a raging fever and it hurt so bad."

"Tormented you? Jae-jun, that—"

"When I go into that other form, my intelligence drops. It feels half-finished. But I got stronger. From now on, I'm doing whatever I want."

And in that moment, her son's fingers dipped toward the pool of zombie blood on the floor.

"Jae-jun… ah!"

Zombie blood struck her full in the face, and terror seized her.

"Ahahaha! Now you'll turn into a zombie too! Serves you right!"

Lee Jae-jun cackled and bolted out like a shot. Lee Jin-ah could only stare blankly after her departing son, unable to believe what had just happened to her.

Her own child was not normal. It felt as if she were watching a demon reborn.

If that child gets out, people will die.

Not an ordinary person — something closer to a half-zombie. What if that thing, with its wicked nature, started attacking others?

"Please…"

With her head spinning, she desperately hoped someone — anyone — would see this letter.

That they would stop her child, who had become a demon.

"The contents contradict each other."

The story was certainly unusual. Her young son had been violent from an early age, even killing animals.

A textbook psychopath… but so what? Even a psychopath is helpless against zombies.

What was certain: the son of this household was not normal, and the adult male corpse in the room I'd first broken into was a soldier who'd come on a rescue mission.

And a ten-year-old killed him? Did that make any sense? An elementary schooler against a soldier?

But there was one detail in the letter that stuck with me. Something abnormal had happened to her child's body.

"…Did he end up like Gang Haseong?"

I knew. The moment of turning into a zombie was when they were most dangerous.

So if the child had been mid-transformation, winning a fight against an adult man actually made sense.

"He would've turned into a full zombie eventually anyway. Doesn't really matter."

Right. With time, he would have become a zombie on his own.

Thinking that, I decided it was nothing special and started to get up — when something snagged in my memory.

They said there's a crazy psycho wandering around Gangbuk-gu.

Information I'd heard at the school flashed through my mind.

"No way. That was a rumor from before all this, wasn't it?"

I hadn't heard an exact date, and that thought brushed past me — but realistically, it was impossible. He'd turned into a zombie and vanished somewhere.

I had my own path to follow. I stepped out onto the balcony and jumped down onto the pile of zombie corpses below.