The Weight of the Sword
When Ha-neul stepped into the corridor inside the special building, she noticed that the noise from the main building had faded away. The special building didn’t mean safety, but at least it wasn’t like over there—where screams erupted from every direction, people stampeded about, and died in droves. This section was normally only used by students heading to club rooms or labs during lunch, so it being quieter than the main building wasn’t strange. Yet that very quietness now carried an entirely different meaning.
Bags and gym clothes that looked like they’d been dropped in a hurry, along with a half-crushed water bottle, lay scattered across the floor. Long smears of blood streaked the walls, as if someone had pressed a hand there while fleeing and slipped. Sunlight still poured brightly through the window at the end of the corridor, but the scene beneath it no longer resembled a school.
Ha-neul readjusted her grip on the mop handle and walked slowly. Until she obtained a real sword, she had to conserve this makeshift weapon as much as possible. Its length was awkward and its balance poor, making precise techniques difficult, but it was enough for striking under the chin or creating distance. More importantly, after using it several times, she had grown accustomed to how much force was needed to tear through flesh.
The important thing was reaching the kendo club room at the end of the building. She just had to hold out until then.
Two zombies appeared midway down the corridor. One had its jaw nearly torn off, hanging loosely as blood and saliva dripped in thick strands from the gaping mouth. The other had one eye dangling from its cheek. They had been facing different directions, but at the sound of Ha-neul’s footsteps, they turned simultaneously.
Ha-neul didn’t stop walking. She only needed to adjust the distance when they charged. When the first zombie lunged forward, swinging its arms, she tilted her body slightly to evade and thrust the mop handle upward from below. The splintered wooden tip pierced beneath the jaw and drove deep into the skull. A short, dull sound followed, and the zombie collapsed.
The second one had already closed in. Its blood-smeared face with the dangling eye lunged forward, its fingers nearly reaching Ha-neul’s shoulder. She pressed the tip of the handle against its chest to halt it momentarily, then flicked open her folding knife. Using one leg as a pivot, she spun behind the zombie. The short blade flashed, severing the nerves at the cervical spine. The zombie’s head twisted at an unnatural angle and its body went limp, only twitching on the floor. Ha-neul finished it by driving the mop handle into the back of its skull.
The corridor fell silent again. Ha-neul wiped the blood and bits of flesh from the end of the handle against the wall. Her hands still felt sticky, but she had grown used to it. She looked up toward the end of the corridor. The kendo club room was there. A smile curved her lips.
The remaining distance wasn’t far, but several zombies were clustered in front of the club room door, repeatedly slamming their bodies against it or scratching at the glass with their nails, desperate to get inside. The door was still holding, but it wouldn’t last much longer. Each time a shoulder or forehead struck the door, a dull vibration echoed down the corridor, and the sound of fingernails scraping glass set her nerves on edge.
Then a wooden sword suddenly thrust out through the gap in the window, shoving one zombie’s face away. The blow itself was strong, but a wooden sword was designed to strike people safely—it lacked the power to deeply cut flesh or shatter bone. The struck zombie staggered, its head turning sideways, but quickly righted itself and lunged back at the door.
A frantic voice came from inside. “Hold the door! Don’t let them push through!”
The moment she heard that voice, Ha-neul quickened her pace without stopping. Seo Chae-won. The kendo club advisor and her homeroom teacher. And, beneath the surface of student and teacher, her secret lover in this school. Her voice was as cold and controlled as ever, yet it couldn’t hide the tension. She was someone who always maintained composure in front of students.
As Ha-neul fought her way down the corridor, she felt the emotions she had been suppressing begin to boil over. Even while making her way to the club room, she had believed Chae-won’s chances of survival were high. But possibility and confirmation were different. The moment she heard her voice, that expectation became reality.
Ha-neul walked toward the door. One zombie turned at the sound of her footsteps. As it stumbled closer, her hand moved. The mop handle drove straight toward its eye. When the wooden tip pierced the eyeball, the zombie pitched forward without a sound. The other zombies nearby turned at the sound of the body falling. Ha-neul addressed the window while feeling their gazes.
“Teacher.”
The commotion inside paused briefly. Soon the window opened, revealing a familiar face. It was Seo Chae-won. Her gray suit jacket was slightly wrinkled, and the collar of her white blouse clung to her skin, damp with sweat. Her hair was more disheveled than usual, but she still fought without giving up, maintaining the neat and composed demeanor she always showed students. Yet she couldn’t hide the trembling in her eyes—tension, exhaustion, and the relief that spread the moment she recognized the person standing outside the door.
“……Ha-neul?”
Ha-neul answered while kicking over an approaching zombie. “Yes, it’s me.”
Another zombie lunged from the side. Ha-neul half-turned, swinging the folding knife. The short blade sliced across the back of its neck, and the zombie collapsed. After driving the mop handle into the back of its skull, she kicked the body aside and smiled at Chae-won through the window. The smile was bright, almost out of place in the situation.
“Don’t open the door. Give me my sword.”
At Ha-neul’s request, Chae-won didn’t hesitate. She turned and ran toward the storage area. That single reaction alone made Ha-neul realize once again how accurately Chae-won understood the situation. Inside the kendo club storage was Ha-neul’s real sword—the actual blade that had been approved and registered for storage at the school. Unlike training wooden swords, it was a genuine weapon capable of severing bone and felling necks.
In the meantime, Ha-neul cleared the area in front of the door. She stabbed chins with the handle, cut the backs of necks with the knife, and kicked bodies aside, gradually securing space. The corridor was narrow, and the corpses quickly became obstacles underfoot. One wrong step could mean slipping, but Ha-neul’s movements remained remarkably calm. She adjusted her footing with each step, considering the direction bodies would fall, and when two or more zombies attacked at once, she first broke the posture of the lead one to tangle it with those behind before finishing them off.
A moment later, a scabbard was extended through the window. “Catch.”
With the short word, Ha-neul immediately grabbed it. Ah, that cool, heavy sensation. The weight of the sword in her hand felt familiar and welcome. The past few dozen minutes of struggling with only a mop handle and folding knife suddenly felt like a distant memory. She dropped the mop handle to the floor and drew the sword. Shrrring. The sound of the blade leaving its sheath echoed through the corridor.
A zombie reacted to the sound and approached. Ha-neul stepped forward, her waist twisting as the blade traced a single trajectory without hesitation. Thwack. A head fell. It rolled across the floor and struck the wall while the torso sprayed blood like a fountain, stumbled backward, and collapsed. Two more zombies behind it charged almost simultaneously, but Ha-neul didn’t retreat. Maintaining distance, she dropped both their heads in a single exchange. Her hand, trained over many years, knew exactly how to angle the blade so it wouldn’t catch on bone.
Complex swordsmanship wasn’t necessary. Zombies didn’t use feints like humans or watch the tip of the blade. All that was needed was precise distance, the correct angle to keep the edge intact, and unwavering resolve.
The corridor fell silent in an instant. Ha-neul lightly shook the blood from the blade. The sensation at her fingertips was incomparably steadier than the mop handle. She caught her breath for a moment and looked through the window. Chae-won was watching her. A faint smile crossed her lips.
“You haven’t changed.”
Her voice carried relief and trust. Ha-neul grinned in return. “If I want to cut through university gates with a single sword, this much is necessary.”
The gaze visible through the window deepened for a moment before returning to reality. A groan echoed from somewhere in the corridor. Shadows staggered closer from a distance. It wasn’t over yet. Even if the special building was quieter than the main building, the fact that the entire school was overrun with zombies remained unchanged.
Ha-neul readjusted her grip on the sword. “I’ll finish cleaning up here and come inside.”
Her voice had calmed again. Chae-won nodded and held the door firmly. Just because she had cut down a few didn’t mean it was over. Sound and the scent of blood could draw more zombies. Ha-neul turned and looked toward the end of the corridor. Zombies began to appear slowly from the far end. Some wore school uniforms, others T-shirts. Some limped, others had their necks half-torn, heads tilted sideways. But none of that mattered. Right now, a real sword rested in Ha-neul’s hand.
“Teacher.”
“Yes?”
“Once I’ve cleared out all the zombies, let’s start with a kiss.”
Chae-won narrowed her eyes slightly, then sighed. “If you come back safely.”
That was enough. Ha-neul grinned and walked toward the zombies. She hadn’t felt this exhilarated since the night she and Chae-won first mingled their bodies and exchanged their innocence—when they had clung to each other, explored one another until breathless, and surrendered completely. The same sensation of something long suppressed bursting forth. And in the next moment, blood began to spray once more.