The Author’s Descent into Her Own Ruin
The first thing I felt upon waking was a sharp, piercing dizziness. And what entered my field of vision was... I forced myself to suppress the pain and vertigo, bowing my head to look at my left wrist. Blood was spurting from a deep, jagged gash.
"...Huh?"
My mind was a jumbled mess. The scene of blood and water mixing as they covered the bathroom floor was unfamiliar, yet strangely recognizable. 'This is... a scene from the novel I wrote.'
Jang Yeeun, the protagonist of my novel, was attempting to escape the isolated Euncheol Apartments, where all food and resources had run dry. She had encountered the 'Suicide of the 4th Floor'... wait, what? But I didn't have the luxury of time. The priority right now was to stop the bleeding. Suppressing my trembling hands, I scanned the area. A sharp kitchen knife lay on the floor. And a towel was hanging on the bathroom rack. I grabbed the towel and pressed it hard against the wound. There was no sign of the bleeding stopping.
"Damn it... damn it..."
Stay calm. If I die here, it means I die, not the protagonist of my novel. It must be a dream, right? It has to be a dream... it has to be.
"This world is going to be destroyed in two years! Everyone is going to die!"
The novel I wrote had a bad ending where the entire human race was wiped out two years later, when a zombie virus began to spread through the air. I heaved myself up from the bathtub, gasping for air. The blood from the artery was still flowing out, hot, and my body felt increasingly heavy. I was terrified of losing my mind, but I had to survive. The first thing that caught my eye was a floor towel in the corner of the bathroom. I grabbed it. I needed to apply pressure quickly. I rolled the towel into a ball, placed it over the wound, and pressed down hard with my right hand. Blood continued to seep out, but the rate seemed to slow down, little by little.
Next was the towel on the small sink in the corner of the bathroom. I grabbed it quickly and wrapped it over the wound already covered by the floor towel. The towel was made of a soft yet durable material; it felt like it wouldn't slip even if I wrapped it tightly around my wrist. I grabbed the ends of the towel and tied a firm knot. The flow of blood from my wrist seemed to have decreased slightly. But the red liquid was still slowly pooling from the wound.
Only then was I able to compose myself and look into the mirror hanging in the bathroom. The reflection was exactly as I had described in the novel: long, flowing black hair, pale skin, and... deep, dark circles under my eyes. Without even thinking about getting dressed, I walked out into the living room just as I was.
The living room was exactly as described in the novel—the room of the 'Suicide of the 4th Floor.' A corner of the room was cluttered with piles of tissues and empty ramen bags, and a microwave that looked like it hadn't been used in ages. And the unpleasant dampness and silence that filled the room. Only then did I notice the AirPods in my ears. I hadn't realized it because I was so panicked, but the volume was turned up quite high. As if to cut myself off from the world. The J-pop ringing in my ears was starting to hurt, so I took them out and held them in my hand.
At that moment, I heard the sound of the world collapsing. It was a scream. Someone’s painful cry and shriek. Followed by beast-like sounds, and the noise of things breaking and shattering.
"...What is this?"
I approached the window, my body trembling. The moment I looked outside, suppressing my shaking hands, my breath hitched at the sight before me. Monsters with rotting blue skin, eyes rolled back, screaming as they lunged. People running around in a panic, chased by those monsters. There was nowhere to run. The monsters pounced, tearing the people apart. Seoul was burning. Smoke was rising from everywhere, and apartments and buildings were collapsing. I could see people wailing in the flames.
I placed my trembling hands on my knees and leaned my head against the cold floor.
"...Damn it, what is this..."
I caught my breath and looked toward the window again. The scene I had so painstakingly described in my novel had become my reality. The massacre of zombies, the screams of people. My novel begins at the very first scene of the apocalypse. And now, the world I created was trying to swallow me whole.
I gasped for air and wrapped my head in both hands. No. No, no. I want to live. At that moment, the horrific scene outside the window entered my vision again. A man was being grabbed by the monsters, his body being torn apart. With a scream that tore through my eardrums, blood and flesh were ripped from his body. I couldn't bear to watch this anymore. My body moved reflexively. I ran to the bathroom, grabbed the toilet, and vomited. Bitter, foul stomach acid kept surging up. My whole body shook, and I cried while coughing. I don't want to die. I don't want to die. I didn't want to die miserably, torn apart by monsters like that man. And I wanted to become a monster, a zombie, even less.
When I lifted my head, my mind hazy from the vomiting, I saw the towel wrapped around my left wrist. Red bloodstains were spreading through the white towel. The blood was still seeping out, unceasing. I will survive. Somehow. I grabbed the sink with trembling hands and pulled myself up. The reflection in the mirror looked so pathetic. A pale face, eyes wet with tears, and a blood-soaked towel. But somewhere in my heart, a voice was ringing clearly.
"Even in the original work, Jang Yeeun survived until the end."
She escaped, and in that horrific world, she headed for Seoul National University. Above all, she almost created a vaccine. Then, what if I help her now? In this situation where I know all the future events, what if I reach out to her? Couldn't I eradicate the virus before the airborne transmission begins?
I collapsed to the floor. In my head, negation and affirmation kept fighting. I might die. I can't do anything in this world. No, I can survive. It's the story I wrote. I know it better than anyone.
My body trembled. My heart was pounding like crazy.
"I don't want to die. I don't want to die miserably."
Strength returned to my fingertips. "I will survive. By any means necessary."
I stood up again, grabbing the threshold of the living room with trembling hands. Because in the world I created, in the apocalypse I created, I have to find a way somehow.
In the story, the zombie outbreak officially spread across South Korea before spring, when it was still chilly. Achoo!
"...Damn it, let's get dressed first."
I muttered, looking at the clothes laid out in front of the bathroom. My body was like this, the situation was like this... but the thought of wearing those clothes brought a strange sense of guilt.
"I feel so bad, I can't possibly wear these."
I pushed the clothes in front of the bathroom aside and walked toward the closet, hunching my body. When I opened the closet, I was shocked once again. Before my eyes were clothes filled entirely with black, red, and white. Blouses with long cuffs and lace-trimmed sleeves, pleated skirts, stockings, checkered jackets, and excessively exaggerated ribbons. Anyone could see this was... 'Menhera' style.
"Why on earth is there only this kind of clothing..."
I hesitated and rummaged through the clothes. "...I have to wear something, right?"
I pulled out a long-sleeved blouse. It was black with a red ribbon attached. The weight of the clothes felt strangely unfamiliar. I hesitated again as I tried to put it on. "Women's clothes... how do you wear them?" I didn't know how to tie the skirt or where to tie the ribbon. After struggling for a long time, I managed to put on the blouse and skirt, but when I looked at the stockings, I just threw them away. "I can't wear these. I'll just go barefoot."
Even after getting dressed, my heart felt uneasy... and then I remembered. 'The Suicide of the 4th Floor.' Why I put this house and this character in the novel. It held an important position because of one 'tool' found in her house, described as the 'Suicide of the 4th Floor.' Namely, the rope she bought for suicide. It was an absurd setting. She bought a rope blindly for suicide, and it was 20 meters long. And, far from committing suicide, she just threw the rope in the storage room and left it there.
"What a truly crazy woman..."
I cursed the character I had written. That rope was an important tool used by the protagonist to escape in the novel. I turned my body and examined the corner of the living room. Following the vague description in the novel, I walked to the storage room. When I opened the small door at waist height, I saw the rope inside, just as expected. It was dumped in one corner, covered in dust.
"Okay. With this..."
I grabbed the rope and returned to the living room. I felt its heavy weight at my fingertips. I can get to the 11th floor with this rope. I already knew. Jang Yeeun, the protagonist of the novel I wrote, was staying on the 11th floor. I had to go find her now. Because if I help her, and if I'm with her, I might be able to change this apocalypse I created, even if just a little.
And I leaned my body out of the window. It was clear that the height was enough to climb up using the rope. The structure and settings of this apartment were in the novel I wrote myself. If I throw the rope, fix it to the balcony or railing of the floor above, and climb up by stepping on the wall next to it, it would be enough. And there would be no reason to fall. Since an adult man succeeded with this method in the novel, there is no reason why a woman who is clearly underweight cannot climb up.
I leaned against the wall, gasping for air. I couldn't help but resent my body, which had fallen ill that very day after climbing just five floors.
"Damn it, has this body ever even tried exercising?"
A sensation of soreness and stiffness spread throughout my body, and I felt like I was suffocating even with the slightest movement. 7th floor. The thumping sound from the floor above reached my ears. It wasn't a light footstep. It was the sound of something heavy and massive moving.
"Right, this is the biggest danger."
8th floor. There is a zombified family there. Parents and a child, 3 people in total. In the novel, they were a terrible threat to the protagonist. Because the party moving together would die due to zombies that suddenly popped out while descending. There were two options.
1. Quickly pass the clearly dangerous 8th floor. I have to face the zombie family directly, or at least move close to them. If I fail, it's over.
2. Enter the 'uncertain' next-door apartment. Cross to the next-door apartment from the 7th floor, and find a path to move to the floor above from there. This side is a gamble where I don't even know who is there.
I hated gambling, and I hated clearly dangerous situations. "The 8th-floor zombie family... 3 people in total. Isn't there a way to lure them for sure?"
I cracked open a can of tuna that the owner of the 7th floor had stashed away and put it in my mouth, racking my brain. I felt the oily tuna melting in my mouth, but I didn't even have the luxury to savor the taste now.
'The weakness of zombies...' I recalled the settings in the novel. It wasn't that zombies didn't have weaknesses. All their senses were biased toward one specific sense. Hearing. Zombies move by relying on their hearing. But there was a problem. If I made too much noise, there was a risk of luring not only the 8th floor but also the zombies on the floors above and around me. I looked out the door through the peephole. Zombies were wandering around in front of the door as well. What if the sound reached them too? That would be a disaster.
A way to make a moderately loud noise, while also being able to make the sound safely? At that moment, one thought flashed through my mind.
"Ah, this is it."
I muttered, fiddling with the 'AirPods' in my ears. This small device could be the most powerful tool I have right now. What if I throw the AirPods to the floor above, the 8th floor, and play the sound at maximum volume? It could act as a kind of 'speaker' that makes noise toward the 8th floor. The only sense zombies have is hearing. And if I keep the 7th-floor window closed, the possibility of the sound leaking to the floor below or outside the door is reduced. Above all, it would be best if the zombies were lured and even jumped out the window. Although there was a possibility of losing the AirPods, it wasn't an item important enough to trade for survival.
I took my phone out of my pocket. My fingertips were trembling slightly, but I soon started searching my sound playlist.
"I have to play a sound, but what should I play?"
In the end, I chose J-pop with an intense beat similar to noise. Holding the AirPods in my hand, I firmly gripped the window one last time.
"Throw it well, lure them well... and survive."
I went out to the veranda and prepared to throw the AirPods to the 8th-floor veranda. This small device would be the first tool to determine my survival. I carefully threw the AirPods to the floor above, and soon I heard the sound of the AirPods falling onto the 8th-floor veranda. At that moment, the thumping sound from the floor above. They are seriously sensitive to hearing.
I immediately closed the 7th-floor veranda window tightly. "Please... succeed."
As I turned the phone's volume to the maximum, the intense beat of J-pop rang out. As soon as the sound started, a tremendous noise began to be heard from the floor above. Thump! Thump! Thump-thump! The zombies were moving according to the sound and causing a ruckus. Crash! I heard the sound of glass breaking, and I saw a scene where three zombies fell out the window.
"...It's a success."
Along with the broken glass shards, the zombies that fell from the 8th-floor veranda plummeted to the ground. The corpses, unable to overcome gravity, fell onto a car parked under the apartment, and an intense collision sound rang out. Bang! Along with the sound of a giant iron plate tearing, the car roof collapsed completely. Due to the impact, the car's alarm began to ring fiercely. Beep-beep! Beep-beep! These sounds were enough to stimulate even the zombies that were far away. At that moment, the zombies wandering the street turned their heads. Their blood-red eyes all turned toward the direction of the car at once. The screams heard from the street stopped, and all the zombies began to flock to the source of the noise in an orderly fashion. Wooo... screech... bang! As the zombies lunged at the car, the already broken vehicle shook even more violently. The sound of the car's debris tearing and the interior collapsing into pieces mixed in. They were shouting as if looking for prey that might be inside, pressing down on the car with monster-like strength.