The Absolute Rule
Rule (2) The gymnasium now smelled like people lived there. The air was a tangled mess of blood and sweat, dust and damp towels, disinfectant and the musty odor of mats—far from pleasant, yet at least it was no longer saturated with nothing but terror and anxiety as it had been days before. Once their territory expanded from the gymnasium into the corridors, stairwells, storage rooms, and a few empty classrooms, a different kind of emotion began to seep into the students’ faces. The first to surface was relief. Then, atop that relief, more complicated feelings started to layer themselves. Some twisted their lips as if to ask whether they were truly meant to stay trapped like this after barely surviving. Others glanced almost reflexively toward Ha-neul, Chae-won, or Eun-ah whenever the three moved. Those gazes were a mixture of expectation and dependence, fear and resentment.
In that atmosphere, one of the students gathered near the gymnasium wall fiddled with the cap of a water bottle in his hands before carefully speaking up. “Um… isn’t it okay to stay put now? The corridors are clearer, we’ve stocked up from the vending machines, and the gym is barricaded. Wouldn’t it be better to just hold out quietly here instead of going outside and fighting dangerously every time?”
Several students nodded subtly. They hadn’t had the courage to voice it, but quite a few had been thinking the same thing. Every time they went out, someone could die. Even while clearing a single corridor, they had seen bloodied, headless corpses multiple times. They still clung to the hope of locking the doors and waiting for rescue.
Chae-won saw right through their thoughts and didn’t cut them down emotionally. “How many days do you think we can last like that? Even if we ration the food and water we’ve secured as strictly as possible, we’ve got four days at most. Hygiene issues will get far worse after just a day or two. We also have injured people who need disinfectant and clean water constantly. Most importantly, we can’t skip security even for a single day. Just because we stay quiet doesn’t mean they’ll never find us. To survive here, we have to keep going out and fighting. It’s not a choice—it’s a necessity.”
Chae-won wasn’t the only one who judged that the students needed to feel this reality on their skin. Eun-ah lifted her head from where she had been leaning against the wall, while Eun-jae scanned the students’ faces one by one, gauging who was paralyzed by fear and who still underestimated the situation. That day’s conclusion was to expand and maintain their territory while, above all, letting the students experience the rules of this world firsthand through their first group hunt. The participants were Ha-neul, Eun-ah, and four students. Chae-won would handle command and immediate decisions, while Eun-jae would observe from behind, noting the students’ reactions and any problems. The four students had been chosen carefully: one from the athletics club, two with decent builds and relatively less fear, and one who, though still trembling, could follow orders immediately. That didn’t mean these students would instantly become combatants. Today’s goal wasn’t the hunt itself so much as making them confront the reality of fighting zombies for survival. They would assist from behind, lure enemies, check beyond doors, and watch up close how Ha-neul and Eun-ah moved. The point was to show them that sending a few strong people outside while praying inside wasn’t the only way to survive.
Even before departure, the students’ expressions varied. One forced a calm face while his fingertips trembled. Another breathed in short gasps, his mouth bone-dry. Yet another wore a miserable look yet gripped his weapon tightly. Ha-neul offered them no comfort. Instead, she spoke briefly and clearly. “I’ll cut them down from the front. Teacher Eun-ah will push them back and restrain them. You four watch the doors, blind spots, and the floor behind us. It’s fine to be scared, but don’t run off on your own. If you’re going to retreat, wait for the signal and fall back together. Making sloppy decisions by yourself will only make things more dangerous.”
Eun-ah added from beside her, “This isn’t some hero game. Killing one zombie won’t suddenly make you stronger. If you don’t do as you’re told, you might actually die. So drop the pointless pride and just focus on watching and learning with your eyes wide open.”
Chae-won once again confirmed the corridor layout, retreat signals, and the order of withdrawal toward the gymnasium in emergencies, while Eun-jae quietly noted the students’ names and positions. Thus the first group hunt began.
At first, things went better than expected. As they moved past the already secured corridors and stairs into the outer areas, they spotted zombies here and there, leaning motionless against the walls. Ha-neul advanced quietly at the front. Every flash of her blade sent heads tumbling or jaws vanishing above the neck; the zombies collapsed without even time to scream. When any zombie that wasn’t fully dead lunged, Eun-ah drove her iron bar into its chest to break its balance, pinned it down with the tip, and bought Ha-neul time to finish it. The students supported from behind—shining lights into open classrooms, clearing obstacles from the floor, and throwing books or objects in the opposite direction when a lure was needed. Even the students who had frozen with tension loosened up a little after seeing how quickly the zombies were cut down.
But just when they began to think they had grown accustomed, trouble struck. Midway down a corridor, the door to a small prep room stood half-closed. From the outside, nothing seemed amiss. Ha-neul had already passed it while watching ahead, and Eun-ah had briefly lowered her gaze to watch one student clear an object from underfoot. That was when it happened. A zombie that had been hiding in the shadows inside the door suddenly burst out. It was a male student with half his face torn away. Far faster than the others, it hurled itself through the narrow gap and collided head-on with the student standing right behind. The student froze. Trying to swallow a scream, he stumbled backward and fell flat on the floor. The zombie didn’t miss the opening; it latched onto the fallen student’s arm. The sound of teeth tearing flesh was horrific.
Everyone froze in place. Ha-neul spun around instantly. Her blade struck the zombie’s neck where it clung to the student’s arm. Blood spread across the floor like a slick. A quick scan of the surroundings showed no other dangerous zombies. The fight itself ended in seconds, but the real problem came after. The bitten student was still alive. Sitting on the floor, he stared blankly at his own arm. The moment he saw the wound and blood beneath his torn uniform sleeve, his face went deathly pale. Then he began to cry. A scream might have been less horrifying. Instead, he couldn’t even scream properly; his voice trembled as he sobbed, breath catching. “It’s okay… right? It’s just a bite… I’m still fine, aren’t I…?”
The students behind him grew agitated. Everyone had known intellectually about the infection, but none had seen a living student—still human—crying after being bitten right in front of them. “Can’t we just bandage it?” “He’s still talking fine… He’s okay, isn’t he…?” They clung to the hope they wanted to believe. They had all vaguely understood that being bitten meant infection, yet they had only ever seen people die on the spot and rise again as zombies. No one had seen someone survive a bite and escape. All eyes turned to Chae-won. She was the one who always made the judgments, and they hoped she would say “It’s fine” or “Let’s watch for now.”
Chae-won swallowed her words for a moment. There was the crying student, still alive, and the others waiting for her decision. Whatever she said now would leave a deep wound in their hearts. In that hesitation, Ha-neul moved. She looked at the bitten student. Her expression was calm—calm enough to feel cold. “How long ago was the bite?”
The student answered, still unable to fully swallow his sobs. “Just now… It just happened… It doesn’t hurt… I’m still fine… Senior, I won’t die, right…?”
Ha-neul gave a small nod. Then she spoke briefly. “I’m sorry.”
The next instant, her sword flashed. It was too fast for anyone to react properly. Before the bitten student could say another word, before the others could even stretch out their arms to stop her, Ha-neul’s blade severed his neck. His head fell to the floor with a dull thud, resistance nonexistent. Blood spurted from the severed surface, adding darker red stains to the already filthy corridor floor.
Silence fell. The quiet was so heavy that even the sound of others breathing seemed loud. Every student had frozen. The student who had been crying moments ago, the one who had looked to them for help, the one who had still been alive—he had just had his head cut off before their eyes. Not by a zombie, but by Ha-neul’s sword, their own ally. The scream came late, swallowed by the sudden rush of terror and shock. Even Eun-ah’s face had hardened, and Chae-won stared wordlessly at Ha-neul’s profile. Ha-neul merely flicked the blood from her blade.
On the way back to the gymnasium, none of the students spoke. Ha-neul walked at the front at her usual pace. Yet her back no longer looked like that of a reliable fighter or senior—it looked like someone who could kill a person without the slightest hesitation if necessary. When the gymnasium door opened and the students inside saw the expressions of those returning, they immediately sensed something was wrong. It didn’t take long for the situation to spread. Finally, voices rose. “He was still alive!” Shock, anger, and fear tangled together. Several students flinched at the voice and looked at Ha-neul, hoping she would be protested on their behalf. Ha-neul answered in a quiet voice. “That’s why I killed him.”
The gymnasium fell silent again. It was the silence of people who understood the meaning of those words—or who didn’t want to accept them yet couldn’t deny them. Ha-neul looked around at everyone. “The moment he was bitten, he was infected. Even if he looked fine on the outside, once he turns, it’s over. There’s no cure anywhere, and we couldn’t bring him back here anyway.” Even if he seemed fine for now, he could die at any moment and turn into a zombie, attacking the others. “That hesitation will get the person next to him bitten, and then the next. If that happens, this gymnasium will collapse in an instant. If I hadn’t killed him earlier, that kid would have come back here still possibly turning at any moment. If we watched and someone else got bitten? What could have ended with one beheading would turn into two.”
Thus the absolute rule of this place was established. “If you’re bitten, you die. No matter who it is.”
No one liked it. No one welcomed it gladly. But in a place where civilization and law had collapsed, a survivor group needed rules that everyone must follow if it was to survive without falling apart. The first absolute rule was the disposal of the infected.
After that incident, the atmosphere inside the gymnasium changed completely. The students began to look at Ha-neul differently. Until now, she had been the strongest, the best fighter, someone they could rely on. She had been frightening, yet there had also been something heroic about her; at least she had seemed like someone who only swung her sword at zombies. But not anymore. Ha-neul was someone who could kill an ally—an crying student—if necessary. Because of that, the students feared her. They grew more cautious when speaking to her, and some avoided her gaze when their eyes met. Yet at the same time, they came to rely on her even more. Paradoxically, it was precisely that ruthlessness that no one could deny would keep them alive in this ruined world.
Eun-ah recalled the event and muttered quietly to herself. “She’s cold.” She understood Ha-neul’s judgment. In the field, a moment’s hesitation could kill everyone. Eun-ah admitted that she would likely have made the same choice in the end.
Chae-won’s feelings were complicated. As a teacher, watching an ally behead a still-living student was not something she could easily accept. Yet she also knew why Ha-neul had done it—and that it had ultimately been the right decision. So that night, after everyone had quieted down, Chae-won sat beside Ha-neul and spoke. “I can’t just be happy about what you did today. It’ll probably stay with you for a long time. But I can’t say it was wrong either. If you had hesitated, even more kids would have been in danger. So… don’t try to carry it all alone. At least I understand why that judgment was necessary.”
Eun-jae had watched the entire process in silence and grew more certain. This group ultimately revolved around Kang Ha-neul. On paper, Chae-won and she might be the ones making judgments and organizing situations, and Eun-ah and Ju-ha might provide physical reassurance. But the one who enforced the rules and made everyone acknowledge them was Ha-neul. Looking at her, Eun-jae felt both fear and relief, and at the same time saw possibility. She was a dangerous blade, but this group needed that blade right now. No one could feel comfortable around Ha-neul anymore, yet no one could completely hate her either. Authority was born at the intersection of fear and necessity. That night, Ha-neul’s authority was established inside the gymnasium.