The First Alliance
The schoolyard had lost its former shape. Once a place where soccer balls rolled and students shouted as they ran during lunch, the wide rectangular floor was now covered in glistening pools of blood under the sunlight, chunks of flesh pressed into the mud, scattered shoes and balls, and torn pieces of gym uniforms. The things moving across it could no longer be called students. Wearing blood-soaked gym clothes and ripped school uniforms, they wandered aimlessly across the yard, growling as if phlegm boiled deep in their throats. Slow, yet their sluggish steps carried a stubborn persistence. The scent of blood once heard or smelled would be tracked to the very end—an obsessive attachment that filled the entire yard, too tenacious to even call life force.
Beyond the window, that scene was laid bare. Through the bloodstains splattered on the glass, a hellish panorama of the schoolyard unfolded, and whenever the wind cut between the buildings, the smell of dust and blood seeped through the window frames. It was obvious without confirmation that most of the school had already fallen to them. The screams echoing from the main building corridor were growing fewer. There might still be survivors, but at least the word "safe" had lost all meaning in this school. Death stood on the other side of every door, and the slightest delay could send someone over to "that side" in an instant.
Yet no matter what lay outside the window, Ha-neul's gaze did not linger there for long. It had not taken long to clear the corridor. Especially after she had gotten her hands on a real sword. The sensation of slicing through bone and flesh traveled up her arm, and when she swung at the right angle, she could sever a neck without wasting strength. Ha-neul did not find that fact horrifying in the slightest. On the contrary, it felt as if her hands and body had always been meant for this, the movements of her sword arm, legs, and waist natural and even pleasurable.
After finally beheading the last male student zombie that staggered into view at the end of the corridor, Ha-neul slowly exhaled. Blood ran down the blade and dripped onto the floor. The special building corridor fell silent. Only then did the kendo club room door open from the inside.
Ha-neul stepped in, sword still in one hand. As the door closed and the lock clicked, the familiar scent of the training hall wrapped around her. Mixed into that scent now were the smell of blood and tension. Silence had settled over the space once filled with students' kiai and the sound of feet sliding across the floor. Within that silence, Ha-neul met Chae-won's eyes.
Her gray suit jacket was wrinkled in several places, and her white blouse clung to her skin, damp with sweat around the neck and chest. The matching H-line skirt reached just past her knees, a plain, unremarkable outfit. Yet the body revealed beneath that neatness was provocative. Even beneath the jacket buttons, the full curve of her breasts stood out, her waist was slender enough to accentuate the cut of the clothes, and the legs extending beneath the skirt were startlingly long and straight. The modest clothing only emphasized her lewd figure.
She had always been known among the students as the "pretty female teacher," but in her current state—disheveled by blood, sweat, and tension—that aspect of her appeared even more blatant. Ha-neul gave a short laugh at the sight. The prim, OL-like appearance she always maintained in front of students stood out even more sharply against the chaos outside.
"Faster than I expected," Chae-won spoke first. Her voice tried to stay low and calm as usual, but she could not completely hide her relief. Ha-neul wiped the blood from her blade with a cloth lying nearby and replied.
"I fought better than you thought, didn't I, teacher?"
"That was more than just 'fighting well.'"
Chae-won said this while the corner of her mouth lifted ever so slightly—an expression she rarely showed in front of others. Seeing it, Ha-neul felt the vague tension inside her vanish all at once. While cutting through the corridor from the main building, she had thought only of fighting and the sword, leaving no room for emotion. But now, with Chae-won right in front of her, something else filled that space: relief, possessiveness, joy, and a desire and attachment that had only grown stronger amid the stench of blood.
"I'm glad you're alive."
After checking Ha-neul's blood-splattered uniform and the fierce light in her eyes, Chae-won spoke. "You too."
Ha-neul approached her. She set the sword against the wall, then wrapped her arms around Chae-won's waist in the next moment. The embrace was stronger than expected, tight enough to steal her breath. Chae-won's body stiffened briefly before relaxing, and Ha-neul pulled her even closer without missing the opening. Up close, her body looked even more stimulating. The gray jacket fit snugly, neatly defining her shoulders and waist, which only emphasized the volume of her breasts. The waist Ha-neul could grasp beneath it was slender, and the body heat felt through the blouse was that of a living human—cool and sticky with fatigue, unlike the zombies.
Ha-neul liked the sensation and added a little more pressure with her fingertips as she stroked down Chae-won's back. The touch, moving from waist to side to back, went beyond a simple check for survival, and Chae-won could not fail to notice.
"Ha-neul."
Chae-won called her name, but Ha-neul buried her face in the curve of her neck instead of answering. The scent of shampoo, sweat, and skin reached her nose. Just that seemed to push the smell of blood and death she had seen too much of outside a little farther away.
"Ha-neul—"
The words were cut off as their lips met. Ha-neul pulled Chae-won's waist closer and kissed her. After a brief moment of resistance, Chae-won grabbed Ha-neul's shoulders and accepted it. Their breaths tangled, and Chae-won's tightly closed lips parted little by little. Ha-neul did not miss the opening and slipped her tongue inside. The distance between them disappeared completely. Whether zombies were wandering outside, whether the schoolyard was painted in blood, whether the students watching nearby were shocked—it did not matter in that moment.
Chae-won's hands clutched Ha-neul's shoulders. It was rare for her to cling with such strength. That reaction alone told Ha-neul how much tension and hardship Chae-won had endured. As expected of someone from a military family, she was usually cool-headed and accustomed to moving while suppressing emotion. As a teacher she was strict, especially when instructing the kendo club. She had been called an elite female soldier more than once, with no openings. Yet even she now leaned into Ha-neul without caring about anyone's gaze, wanting to catch her breath for a moment in the most trustworthy embrace—both to survive and to keep from breaking.
Even after their lips parted, Ha-neul did not let go. Listening to Chae-won's breathing, she slowly stroked her sides and back with her hands. Through the jacket, she could feel the tension in her muscles gradually easing. Chae-won closed her eyes, then slowly opened them and let out a low breath. Ha-neul brushed the hair stuck to her cheek with her fingers.
"Even in a situation like this, you…"
The scolding came, but Ha-neul only laughed and pulled Chae-won's waist tighter once more.
"That's exactly why I'm like this now."
In a world where death lingered on the other side of every door, the only certain things were the body heat in one's hands and the people still alive. Chae-won knew that too, so she did not scold her further. Instead, she closed her eyes for a moment and rested her head on Ha-neul's shoulder. Moments when she initiated contact were rare, which made them all the more special.
For a while, the two stood without speaking. Until today, they had to be careful even about meeting eyes in the hallway. They had to check whether anyone was watching in the teachers' office, the club room, the parking lot, or secluded alleys. Only two other teachers knew about their relationship, and rumors spreading among the students would have caused immediate problems. But now all those premises had collapsed. It was an obvious story. The world had already ended. Who would point fingers or debate morality now? While zombies knocked on doors and wandered the schoolyard looking for more human flesh, what face or rules could they possibly uphold? From now on, even more blatant human ugliness might emerge—people prying into others' relationships, playing politics once they gained power, or clinging to those who could fight zombies while too scared to act themselves. But in the end, all of it came down to power. Ha-neul had already reclaimed the weight of the sword in her hands. If anyone dared to cross the line she had drawn, she would simply cut them down. She thought it as naturally as breathing.
The club room was quiet, but far from peaceful. Zombies were still wandering somewhere in the corridor outside, and the schoolyard visible through the window was a scene from hell. Even so, this brief stillness mattered. Time to collect their thoughts, time to catch their breath before deciding the next move, and time to confirm that the other was here.
Chae-won was the first to pull away. She was still within Ha-neul's arms, but her gaze was already regaining its usual coolness. Reason was returning to eyes that had wavered only moments before. Ha-neul smiled inwardly at the change. As expected. Her quick recovery made her all the more reliable.
"So, what do we do now, teacher?"
Swinging a sword was not everything. Ha-neul was not stupid, but when it came to strategy and managing a group, Chae-won was far more skilled. Cool-headed, responsible, raised in a military family—quick situational judgment and decisive action were ingrained in her. That was why Ha-neul asked her for their future direction.
"First, let's sort through the club room."
Chae-won opened drawers and storage cabinets, checking what might be useful. A few small bottles of water, first-aid tape and disinfectant, extra towels, a lighter, a whistle, and cloth for wiping blades. The kendo club room was meant for classes and training, so there was not enough food or water. Still, it was not completely empty-handed. While doing so, she took out her phone. The screen was filled with missed calls and messages—fellow teachers, unknown numbers, parents, family, school group chats. The notifications alone were enough to guess the state of the outside world. After a brief hesitation, Chae-won opened the news, and Ha-neul checked her own phone. The screen already showed signs of slowed internet. Videos frequently froze, and article headlines reported violent incidents in various regions.
Chae-won watched the news video for a few seconds before turning off the screen. The morning's description of "unexplained violent incidents" no longer meant anything. It was clear this was not just a problem inside the school, and that police or ambulances would not be coming to clean it up anytime soon.
Still looking at her phone screen, Ha-neul spoke. "Phone calls probably won't work either."
"They'll cut off quickly even if you answer. Or you'll just hear worse news."
Chae-won turned her phone completely off. Even the sound of an electronic tone had to be avoided now. After a moment's thought, Ha-neul did the same. It felt like cutting the last thin thread connecting them to the outside world, but right now, avoiding noise that could attract zombies was more important than outside information.
"We have to assume most of the school has already fallen," Chae-won said in a low, clear voice. "The main building especially, and the schoolyard is out of the question. There might still be survivors in the broadcasting room or teachers' office, but moving recklessly will get us surrounded. Expecting rescue is also difficult."
Ha-neul listened quietly. Chae-won did not mix in emotional comfort or hopeful assumptions. She only coldly organized what had been confirmed and what could be reasonably inferred. That was why it felt trustworthy.
"We can't stay here long."
Ha-neul looked up. "I thought so too."
The kendo club room could serve as a brief shelter, but it was not a long-term base. There was only one entrance, the space was small, water was limited, and the many windows made it hard to seal completely. More than anything, staying here would only lead to isolation.
"We need to prepare to go outside. Especially to find a safe base and people who can fight."
Ha-neul immediately understood the implication. It was not about filling numbers with people who would only panic and scream, but about needing more people who could actually hold weapons and move. People who could guard doors, dispose of bodies, carry the injured, and cover the rear during escape. In this world, such people were power, and increasing that power raised their survival rate.
Ha-neul thought of one person in that moment. Yoon Eun-ah. Former judo athlete, specially hired physical education teacher. Same age as Chae-won—twenty-eight. She had always been a woman with a strong presence. Healthy and solid like a PE teacher, so straightforward that students did not dare treat her lightly. When Chae-won said "people who can fight," it was not hard to guess she was thinking of Yoon Eun-ah. She was exactly that kind of person. She always wore loose athletic wear, so at first glance she looked like an easygoing, fit PE teacher, but the physique hidden beneath those clothes was unforgettable. Large breasts that could not be concealed even by baggy clothes, a firm lower body, arms and shoulders that looked like they could easily throw a person. Ha-neul had seen her actually throw an opponent, so she could imagine how much power she had in a real fight. Against zombies, she could probably grab them by the collar and smash their skulls into the ceiling or floor, or twist their necks. Being the type to subdue enemies with bare hands and technique made her valuable in a situation where weapons were scarce. More than anything, she was one of the only two teachers who knew about Ha-neul and Chae-won's relationship.
And Ha-neul's memories went one step further. The spirited face blowing a whistle on the schoolyard to push students, the volume that could not be hidden even under loose gym clothes, the large hand that would casually smack her back while laughing, and how much stronger that impression became when the clothes came off. The memory of burying her face in that generous chest on the bed and acting spoiled rose naturally, and Ha-neul blinked once without thinking. That memory was sweet and pleasant. But at the same time, she had not forgotten who was standing beside her now. That matter must not be discovered by Chae-won. Especially not now. Even as the world crumbled, the bombshell of human relationships remained, and there was no reason to create unnecessary cracks.
"If Teacher Eun-ah is alive, the gym is the most likely place. During lunch she would probably have been nearby for student supervision or class prep, and the building structure has wide entrances—dangerous, but the equipment room or prep room could work as a temporary base."
Ha-neul also drew a mental map of the school. The path to the gym was not short. There was no direct route from the special building, and they might have to cross open sections. It might be better than the main building, but it was by no means safe.
"The problem is the path there. Making loud noises will draw zombies. We can't just fight them head-on either. I can fight, but I'm not confident about a frontal breakthrough. We need at least one more person—preferably two or more. At minimum, an adult who can make sound judgments."
Ha-neul nodded slowly as she listened. It was the right call. If it were just her, she could probably cut a path, but to maintain a group, combat alone was not enough. They needed people who could check for infection and handle the injured, block doors and calm others, and push forward with strength. Yoon Eun-ah could fill at least one, if not two or more of those roles.
"She'll be alive," Ha-neul said. It was not a mere hope, but certainty. Someone like Yoon Eun-ah would not have been easily eaten even if the incident broke out on the schoolyard or gym during lunch. She was more likely to have carried several students to safety. With that strength, she could manage that and more.
Chae-won looked at Ha-neul and gave a short laugh. "I think so too. Let's gather what we can use here and head to the gym to find Teacher Eun-ah."
She added without stopping there. "And not just to find and bring her back. We should also select any survivors we meet on the way. We can't take everyone. Dragging panicked kids along will get us all killed. Only take people who can walk on their own, keep their mouths shut, and follow orders."
It was a ruthless statement, but Ha-neul liked that decisiveness. In times like this, indecisive people only became burdens.
"Understood."
After the short reply, Ha-neul walked to the door and picked up her sword again. The feel of the scabbard and hilt settled firmly in her hand. She drew the blade once, lightly, then slid it back in. The old world was gone. Then they had to adapt to the ruined world and establish a new order. Ha-neul knew she would be the one holding the sword at the very front of that order. And the one who would set the direction from behind was Chae-won. Now they needed someone else to add their strength, and that person's name was already decided. Yoon Eun-ah. Ha-neul rolled the name over in her mind once more and recalled the smell of blood outside the door. The path to the gym would probably be dangerous too. Corridors would be slippery, stairs might be blocked, and opening every door could unleash a new hell. Even so, they would go. If Yoon Eun-ah was alive, they had to bring her in as combat power at all costs. If she was not, then that would be that.
With her hand on the kendo club room door, Ha-neul looked back at Chae-won. The students left in the club room would not be much help. It would be just her and Chae-won, a small elite group. "Once we're ready, let's head out right away."
Chae-won answered while packing the first-aid kit. "I'm ready. Let's go."
Thinking how refreshing that was, Ha-neul opened the club room door.