The Vending Machine
The day after the food scouting mission, the atmosphere inside the gymnasium had shifted ever so slightly. Perhaps it was because they had spent the night there. The space where so many people had crammed together to sleep, the mingled stench of blood, sweat, dust, damp towels, and disinfectant, no longer carried the scent of a school facility. On the central mats, students who had collapsed from exhaustion the previous day still lay curled up, while a few stirred briefly only to drift back into sleep. The injured continued breathing with the bandages and makeshift splints Juha had applied, their faces swollen and red around the eyes from crying through the night. Even so, Eunjae was already awake. She looked every bit the model student council president—someone who could only endure by constantly thinking and planning rather than simply answering.
It was still too early to call it morning, yet light was beginning to seep through the high windows, slowly pushing back the darkness. Outside was far from quiet. Occasionally, the sound of metal dragging echoed from a distance, and somewhere a low, drawn-out moan drifted on the wind before fading. Zombies tended to remain nearly motionless, as if dead, until stimulated by sound or movement. That was why the people left in the gymnasium instinctively lowered their voices when speaking and tried not to drag their feet when walking. Silence had become a matter of survival, not courtesy.
The problem was food. They could secure more supplies from the cafeteria and the school store, but those places were far too dangerous. So Chaewon suggested targeting the vending machines instead. The large multi-purpose machine installed in the connecting corridor between the main building and the special building. As befitting a university-affiliated school, the facilities were excellent, and the machine was much larger than a simple beverage dispenser, offering a wider variety of items. It contained canned drinks and bottled water, as well as chocolate, snacks, instant cup noodles, tissues, wet wipes, and even sanitary pads. Securing just that one machine would buy them several days of breathing room.
How to reach it was something they would have to figure out from here. The scouting party was quickly decided: Haneul, Chaewon, and Eunjae. Euna would stay behind. Among the students remaining in the gymnasium, several had yet to fully recover from panic, and there were two injured. At least one combat-capable person needed to remain in case the door was breached or trouble arose inside. Euna specialized in unarmed combat and raw power, and her very presence in the gymnasium provided a sense of stability. Juha staying behind was equally obvious; pulling medical personnel out on an external scouting mission would have been close to suicide under the current circumstances.
Once the scouting party was set, Eunjae added one condition.
"From now on, anyone on their period will be excluded from scouting missions. I don't think an explanation is necessary, but we've already confirmed that the smell of blood is a significant risk factor. In situations like this, I want to eliminate even the smallest variables."
Some students looked away, clearing their throats or fiddling with water bottle caps. Chaewon, however, nodded without protest, and Haneul offered no objection. Embarrassment or awkwardness did not make the danger disappear. Zombies did not care about morality or appearances. In a world where even a single sound or scent had to be controlled, they could not afford to ignore such practical realities.
Preparations were made in silence. Haneul picked up her real sword. The blade she had cleaned overnight had regained its cold, smooth gleam, and the weight at her waist felt reassuring as ever. She also took the folding knife as backup. Chaewon gripped the broken mop handle she had started using the day before. Eunjae retrieved a metal bat from the sports equipment storage along with tissues and plastic bags—her goal was to quickly gather items from the vending machine. No one spoke unnecessarily. They already knew what each of them had to do and had a rough grasp of how the others moved.
The gymnasium door opened slowly, and the quality of the air changed. It smelled like a long-abandoned slaughterhouse—blood, rotting flesh, dried entrails, bodily fluids congealed on the floor mixed with dust. The moment they inhaled it, all three slowed their breathing. It was not merely tension. Their bodies understood the truth the instant the air entered their lungs: here, the living were the outsiders, and the slightest mistake could turn them into something that smelled the same.
Their steps were slow and cautious. Before lifting a foot, they checked the floor, noted the positions of corpses and the direction of bloodstains, scanned the ends of the corridor and any open doorways, then took the next step. They spoke almost not at all—only whispered instructions or confirmations when necessary. When Haneul checked a corner and adjusted her pace, Chaewon matched the distance from behind, while Eunjae watched the rear and side doors without crossing their lines of sight. During that short, quiet movement, Haneul deliberately stayed close to Chaewon. She did the same when turning corners, when pausing at the top of the stairs to listen below, and when passing through the connecting corridor. She placed her hand on Chaewon's shoulder or side with natural ease. To an outside observer, it might have looked like she was simply steadying herself or confirming positions—hardly unusual in such circumstances. But it was not merely a survival measure. Haneul had already noticed the way Eunjae looked at Chaewon.
That gaze was not particularly overt. If anything, it was quiet and restrained; an oblivious person might have mistaken it for a student simply admiring a teacher. But Haneul, who had always needed to read the room, was accustomed to gauging the weight of such emotions. Admiration, respect, and a hint of personal curiosity. It had not yet been named, but once labeled, it would prove simpler than expected. So Haneul made no effort to hide their relationship. Instead, she drew even closer. When Chaewon moved forward, Haneul brushed her elbow; when they stopped, she leaned her body against Chaewon's shoulder. She maintained a calm expression, yet the meaning was clear enough: This woman is mine.
In the old world, this relationship had been taboo. Teacher and student. Woman and woman. Either one alone would have required secrecy; together, it was unthinkable. So they had always been careful—keeping distance in the corridors, avoiding eye contact in classrooms, pretending nothing was happening in front of others. But now, with corpses scattered through the school hallways and zombies feeding on other zombies in the schoolyard, maintaining appearances by keeping their distance felt absurd.
Chaewon understood the meaning behind the actions. Each time Haneul drew near, she responded with the faintest upward twitch of her lips or by simply not pulling away. She might not have gone so far as to say she enjoyed it, but she certainly did not dislike it. If anything, the realization that they no longer needed to hide the taboo seemed to bring a sense of liberation.
Eunjae saw all of it. Yet she said nothing. She chose to observe. Haneul's behavior, Chaewon's reactions, the familiarity between them that required no explanation. Watching them, Eunjae also recalled the shadows she had glimpsed the previous night from the second-floor bleachers. She had not seen the exact scene, but she could guess who had been involved. Chaewon still did not know about Haneul and Euna's secret meeting. At least, the expression on Haneul's face as she walked beside them now made it unlikely she knew. Eunjae quietly filed the information away. There was no point in bringing it up now. In fact, doing so would be harmful. This group had only just begun to take shape. They had few combatants, several injured, and students who had yet to overcome their fear. If something as trivial as romantic entanglements caused a rift, the group would collapse in an instant. So Eunjae kept her mouth shut. At the same time, she recognized it as a potentially useful card. Haneul was sharp and strong, which made her all the more dangerous. Having a leash she could grab and pull when necessary was not a bad thing. She did not intend to use it immediately, but the fact that it existed mattered. She maintained a perfectly neutral expression as she thought this.
The three of them slowly rounded the final corner. There stood their target. A large metal vending machine loomed beneath the fluorescent lights. It was far too large for an ordinary school corridor. Behind its gleaming glass display were rows of bottled water, canned coffee, sports drinks, and ion beverages. Other compartments held chocolate bars, snacks, small cup noodles, and jelly. The lower section for daily necessities contained tissues, wet wipes, and packages of sanitary pads. In a world that had not collapsed, it would have been nothing more than a convenient school facility. Now, that single machine looked like a warehouse holding several days' worth of survival.
But directly in front of it, two students lay collapsed on the floor. Their bodies were twisted beneath the machine, blood already dried and gluing their clothes to the ground. Their heads, however, were intact. That meant the slightest stimulus could make them rise and react. From a distance, they looked like ordinary corpses, but Haneul had seen this scene too many times. Zombies that were not truly dead remained perfectly still until sound, vibration, or scent triggered them into sudden movement.
All three stopped at once. Haneul measured the distance between the vending machine and the bodies. Chaewon scanned the open classroom doors and blind spots beyond the corridor. Eunjae considered the route for carrying items back, the weight of their haul, and how much noise the process might generate. They could not afford to make loud sounds. Breaking or violently shaking the machine was a last resort. The ideal approach was to quietly deal with the two zombies, check if the machine's lower panel could be opened, and then gather only what they needed as quickly as possible.
Haneul signaled first. She would handle the zombies ahead. Chaewon nodded and took position on the left flank, while Eunjae waited behind with the plastic bags and tissues. The corridor was so quiet that even the friction of shoe soles against the floor felt loud. The first zombie was the male student lying closest to the machine. Haneul approached with her breath held as low as possible. Even when she reached it, the creature did not react. Still, she did not trust it. She did not swing the sword in a wide arc—such a motion would create noise and risk collision in the narrow space. Instead, she drew the shortest possible line across its neck. Shhk. The blade passed cleanly through flesh and cervical vertebrae, leaving only a thin strip of skin so the head did not fall. Blood seeped out afterward, but most of it had already dried and did not spray.
The second zombie did not react immediately to the sound either. Only its shoulder twitched, ever so slightly. Chaewon moved at once. She drove the tip of the mop handle into the back of its skull. The moment the sharpened end pierced its head, the zombie's eyes snapped open, but it had no time to scream. Haneul's sword followed immediately, severing the back of its neck in a short cut. Its head twisted at an unnatural angle and it collapsed. It was over.
The three of them scanned the surroundings once more. A distant moan drifted past, but no new movement stirred nearby. They had room to secure the vending machine.