The Witch of Ruin (1)
Up! Jump!
A thunderous voice echoes from afar. Or is it right next to her?
She can't tell. Everything feels hazy and unreal. Uncomfortable, painful, yet she can't force her eyes open. It's like drifting into sleep under heavy sedation…
So heavy…
The witch tries to pry her eyes open but gives up. The weight on her eyelids is too much. Maybe she doesn't want to wake up at all.
Tatatatata—! Tatatata—! Tatata—!
Gunfire erupts, the deafening noise rattling her skull as her head jerks violently in every direction. It feels as if some giant is shaking her on purpose, mocking her for daring to feel a headache.
It hurts…
The witch grits her teeth. The physical pain is bad enough, but her mind is worse. The endless roars of zombies from every direction grate on her nerves.
Zombies. Ugly monsters. The image of her transformed little brother's bloodstained teeth flashes through her mind—the grotesque sight of them lunging at people, tearing into flesh. Zombies are terrifying. One bite and it's over.
Graaaah!
Another zombie's wail, closer this time. Still not clear enough to pinpoint.
Bang bang bang—! Crack—!
Hey! Get in! This way!
No, I told you not that way! Fall back behind me!
Crash—! Thud—!
The cacophony keeps hammering her already throbbing head. Even through the fog in her brain, a small cloud of worry begins to form.
Something… I need to do something…
The witch thinks with her eyes squeezed shut. But her eyelids feel like lead, and her head won't move. Consciousness flickers like a distant light, too far to reach no matter how hard she stretches.
Just give up…
She tells herself. If she opens her eyes, a bloodied zombie maw will be right there, lunging. The thought terrifies her, so she chooses to surrender. Without her bodyguards, she can't fight anyway.
Useless, stupid girl… How pathetic…
Her father's cold voice echoes in her memory, the same scolding she's heard countless times. Her mind slips back to childhood; she curls inward, arms wrapped around herself. Father is terrifying and strict. But today… something feels different. Warm. Someone is catching her as she falls into an abyss, holding her tight. Is this what being cared for feels like?
Warm…
The heat against her chest and cheek feels so good that the witch keeps her eyes firmly shut.
If she dies in her sleep like this, maybe she won't regret it. Her consciousness sinks deeper into the darkness, deeper still.
“Mmmh…!”
The witch wakes with a low groan.
Blink—!
The light stabs her eyes the moment they open. She whimpers and tries to raise a hand to shield them, but something heavy pins her arm down.
“…Nngh, damn!”
She manages to yank her arm free and covers her eyes. As she does, her thoughts slowly realign.
Operation failed. Identity exposed. Hostage. Assassination attempt. Zombie horde. More zombies. Blood. Zombies!
The shocking events of the day flash through her mind. She remembers blacking out inside the van. The moment that zombie smashed through the window, jaws gaping, her heart had felt like it stopped. Then nothing.
‘…Where am I?’
Frowning, the witch slowly looks around. First, she realizes she's lying on a surprisingly soft cushion. The thing pinning her arm earlier turns out to be a blanket wrapped around her.
“You're awake?”
A familiar voice comes from her left. She turns to see the small-framed self-proclaimed leader of this group sitting against the wall, hugging his backpack. Yubin, if she remembers right.
“Never seen anyone stay unconscious that long. Here, sit up and drink this. Slowly…”
Yubin approaches and hands her a water bottle, adding the warning to take it slow.
‘It wasn't just fainting. I lost consciousness.’
The witch answers silently. She can guess why she collapsed so suddenly. She'd been too tense to sleep the night before. Running on zero rest, pushed to the brink by extreme stress and shock, her body had simply shut down.
“……Where is this?”
She manages to sit up and asks. Yubin points to his right as if the answer should be obvious.
“A movie theater. I told you we were heading to one when we left the subway station.”
She glances around with half-lidded eyes and spots large movie posters on the walls. A sign near the stairs reads “14th Floor.” It clicks. This is a waiting area in a multiplex cinema, and she's lying on a long bench.
Creak—!
Yubin opens a vending machine whose lock the Sheriff had already broken and pulls out a canned coffee. Caffeine and sugar are exactly what he needs right now.
“Where are the others…?”
The moment she confirms her own location, the witch asks in a trembling voice. What if… everyone reliable had died in that attack, leaving only this weakling and herself? If so… this isn't survival at all.
“They went out to scavenge food. We also need to stock up on more batteries for this place.”
After tapping the multipurpose lantern—the only light in the room—Yubin points upward with his finger.
“One of them is on the rooftop keeping watch.”
I see. So no one died after all…
Relief washes over her—until her eyes widen. Wait. Did he just say what floor?
“Fourteenth floor? Fourteen?”
The witch furrows her brow in disbelief. She passed out on the street in front of the theater, yet wakes up on the fourteenth floor. How is that even possible in a world without working elevators?
“Yeah. When the Sheriff gets back, you should thank him. He carried you all the way up here. Damn, the stairs were narrow enough already, and then a whole swarm of zombies showed up inside the theater…”
Yubin shakes his head as if he doesn't want to remember.
‘He carried me up here? All the way to this height?’
The witch is stunned again. Fighting zombies while climbing fourteen flights is already insane, but doing it while carrying her the whole time? That's something else. Then again, that hammer-wielding muscleman does have arms and shoulders powerful enough to make her weight feel like a feather.
“……Why climb all the way up to such a high place? With door locks, the fourth floor or the fourteenth shouldn't make much difference for safety…”
“You seriously don't know?”
Yubin lets out a disbelieving laugh.
“The higher you hide, the less likely zombies are to find you. Height also helps with long-range scouting.”
She knows that much. The real reason she asked is because she wants to shift the blame. She wants to say it wasn't her fault they suffered—it was their stupid decision. But this scrawny guy isn't buying it.
“Nngh…”
Out of retorts, the witch quietly opens the water bottle and wets her lips. After quenching her thirst, she pushes the blanket aside and stands. Only then does she notice the bandage wrapped around the wound on her thigh.
“Ow! Shit!”
She isn't sure why the short scream bursts out. Is it the sudden pain? Fear at the sight of blood? Or disgust that someone touched her body while she was unconscious? The reason is unclear, but the moment she sees the bloodstained bandage, her brow creases on its own.
“The wound isn't that deep.”
Yubin, still sipping his drink, speaks in a tone that says she's overreacting. The witch immediately bristles, teeth clenched.
“That's it? Your musclehead friend pushed me! Your friend! There might be a scar left on my leg, and you're not even sorry?”
“Sorry about that, but if you hadn't stopped moving, you wouldn't have fallen in the first place. He was trying to protect you when it happened. And… in a zombie world, struggling to survive, a wound like that is nothing.”
Yubin replies flatly, then adds one more line.
“Besides, why did you have to get involved and drag everyone into this mess? You're scared out of your mind, so why come at all? If you hadn't shown up, none of this would've happened.”
“We needed the immune blood serum. For research… So like I said earlier, I asked Lieutenant General Park to let me handle the negotiation instead…”
The witch rubs her eyes and answers with difficulty.
“No, that's not what I was asking in context.”
Yubin shakes his head. Her greed—trying to intercept Terra's blood by asking Lieutenant General Park—is understandable. They don't know how difficult vaccine development really is, so they probably believed that getting their hands on an immune person's blood would solve everything. But there's still one thing he doesn't understand.
“Why… you? Why did you come in person? Couldn't you have sent your subordinates?”
Yubin repeats the question, enunciating each word.
“Didn't it occur to you how dangerous this is? With zombies crawling everywhere? And it's not just zombies. Negotiations are dangerous too, especially when both sides are armed. Plus, someone like you is pretty recognizable.”
The fact that she thought a pair of non-prescription glasses and heavy makeup would fool people is beyond his common sense. Especially when she isn't some battle-hardened general like the others…
“I had no choice. If I led the negotiation successfully as the representative, it would prove my capability as a leader…”
The witch starts to speak honestly but swallows the rest. Does she really need to explain something so trivial to this insignificant man? It's an internal Taeyang Group matter anyway. She waves her hand dramatically and changes the subject.
“The Final Level Evolution immune's blood serum is too valuable a resource. As Executive Director, I had to handle it personally. For security reasons…”
“Final Level what…?”
Yubin asks, annoyed. He'd thought he'd gotten used to this woman's habit of mixing in English at random times, but he has no idea what she's saying now.
“Never mind. Forget it.”
The witch's face flushes as she waves it off.
Final Level Evolution immune.
It was a made-up term she'd invented on the spot to avoid criticism from the warlords in the South Area. But after repeating it so many times, she'd started to believe it herself. That's another memory she doesn't want to share with this worthless man.
“So in the simplest terms… you planned this whole ridiculous thing because you wanted your father's approval, and on top of that, you came as the negotiator yourself. Is that it?”
Yubin, having already seen through everything, presses again.
‘I hate this… This kind of cunning man.’
The witch shoots Yubin a sideways glare. People who act smart make her uncomfortable. Especially ones who seem to see right through her like this.
“If what you say is true, then the situation is serious. You must've felt some kind of threat to pull something this reckless, right?”
Yubin presses his forehead and shakes his head slightly. The witch feels a pang of unease but forces herself to stay calm.
“What… what do you mean by serious?”
“The person who ordered your removal might actually be your father.”
The look in Yubin's eyes as he says this is chilling. Even without voicing it, she can almost hear him thinking, ‘This hostage… might not be worth keeping. What now?’
“No! It's not true! There's no crisis between me and Daddy. Don't jump to conclusions when you don't know anything!”
Flustered, the witch shoves the old, dirty blanket aside and forces her feet into her shoes. They're the worst shoes she's ever worn—shoes she never wants to put on again—but without them she can't walk.
“Where are you going?”
Yubin asks as she starts limping down the hallway. The witch points at the ladies' room sign and snaps irritably.
“Can't you see? It's the ladies' room! I need to wash my face!”
“Hah.”
A hollow laugh escapes Yubin. How is he supposed to take this woman? It's been four months since the zombie apocalypse began, and she's heading to the bathroom to wash her face without even bringing water… She still thinks turning any faucet will make water gush out.
Then again, the southern regions still have normal electricity, but this is excessive. It feels like watching a princess who's just escaped the palace and knows nothing about the real world.
It's hard to believe someone like her is the number two of this country's largest corporation—maybe even the only one left. Why is she like this? Especially when she carries the terrifying nickname “Witch of Ruin”…
“There's no water. If you're thinking of washing your face with bottled water, we don't have enough to waste on that.”
At Yubin's words, the witch freezes for a moment.
“No water… comes out? Ah, right, because there's no electric power…”
Muttering to herself as if trying to understand, the witch points toward the rooftop.
“But a building this size should have a water tank on the roof too…”
“That was probably all used up by people hiding here in the first few days of the zombie outbreak.”
Yubin cuts her off flatly. If water had kept flowing and they'd been able to survive on popcorn, plenty of people would've barricaded themselves inside and held out.
“Here. Use this to wipe your hands and face. Save the water for drinking.”
Yubin hands her a pack of wet wipes. The witch still can't let go, pointing at the open vending machine.
“Not enough water? But those things… they had water in them too, didn't they?”
“Mostly coffee or cola. Even those were mostly taken by the people who hid here. Only a few left.”
“Haa…!”
The witch clutches her face and swallows her frustration. Why is everything so inconvenient and impossible…
“I got it. Fine. Just give me a cigarette. I need to smoke.”
The witch sighs and holds out her hand to Yubin. She has to look anxious but confident… That's what she thinks. If she acts that way, they'll value her more as a hostage and won't treat her carelessly.
Zip—!
Yubin, who had been staring at her face, opens his backpack and takes out cigarettes and a lighter.
“I don't want to be stingy, but listen carefully because this is important. First, I'm not giving you the whole lighter and cigarettes. You can only smoke when we say it's okay… In other words, only on the rooftop when there aren't any large groups of zombies nearby.”
“No kidding! You said it's the fourteenth floor, right? You think road zombies can detect smoke from this high up? Impossible!”
“We don't know that. And because we don't know, there's no need to take the risk. That's basic risk management, even in running a company. And second…”
Yubin continues in a firm tone.
“While you're smoking, think carefully. Who might actually want you removed. This is a matter of your life, after all!”