Chapter Text
The day after Jong Woo was released from the hospital, the dead rose from their graves.
He was fairly certain the two events were completely unrelated but, considering the shitshow his life had turned into as of late, it honestly wouldn't have surprised him if he'd found proof to the contrary. He'd survived Eden only to be thrust into a goddamn zombie apocalypse the moment he'd been set to return to and, presumably, reacclimatize to society after his harrowing ordeal.
A society that had promptly caught fire and descended into disorganized, panicked chaos before he'd even had time to book his ticket back home to Busan.
The situation was ironic enough that Jong Woo might have laughed, had he not also been so thoroughly pissed off. He was supposed to be safe. He'd already crawled out of one hell, fighting tooth and nail, arriving a bloodied, beaten-up mess, and now he had to deal with another disaster?
Life just wasn't fair.
Especially since he hadn't even fully recovered yet. While the bruises and scrapes had healed just fine, he still felt a stab of pain in his side if he moved too quickly or twisted in an awkward way. And, even worse, were those soft, alluring whispers echoing inside his head, impossible to drown out no matter how loudly he played his music. Sometimes, he even caught glimpses of long-dead ghosts in his peripheral.
Though, considering the state of the world, they might actually be the real deal and not just figments of his imagination.
The dead were very much walking, after all.
Jong Woo shook his head and climbed up onto the hood of a nearby car. It groaned under his weight, the soles of his shoes leaving buckles in the metal, but Jong Woo paid that no mind. Instead, he let his gaze sweep over the area, scanning the deserted street. It was littered with abandoned cars, debris from looted stores, and the shredded, decomposing remains of the first unlucky victims who had fallen prey to the undead.
The smell had bothered Jong Woo at first — dragging up still-raw memories of claustrophobic hallways and cramped, grimy rooms — but after almost three weeks of near-daily exposure, he'd gotten used to it.
Or learned to ignore it, rather.
A couple of crows were squabbling over a vaguely human-shaped carcass a couple of meters away, their loud cries jarring in the unnatural stillness that lay over the city. Jong Woo still wasn't used to Seoul being so silent and lifeless, the sight both unsettling and strangely mesmerizing. He knew there were still lots of people around — it was impossible to evacuate millions in a matter of days, zombie outbreak or not — but the majority of them had barricaded themselves inside their apartments or basements, waiting for the storm to pass.
In all honesty, there wasn't much else regular citizens could do. It was much safer to just stay put and wait for the military to handle the situation.
It simply wasn't worth the risk.
Mainly because it had only taken a couple of days before it became clear that whatever zombie apocalypse they were dealing with was nothing like the ones depicted in the movies. It wasn't caused by a virus or an illness, for a start, spreading like a wildfire across the planet, wiping out life as they knew it. The devastation was undeniable, sure, society coming to a grinding standstill — holding its breath, on the tipping point of extinction — but, in actuality, the root cause only affected the dead.
The very recently dead, more specifically — those who still had an at least semi-functional brain and enough intact muscle tissue to achieve movement of some sort.
Those cremated, dismembered, or already decomposed remained just as dead as before, blissfully unaware of what they were missing out on.
And whatever had caused the dead to suddenly rise again was in no way contagious. Aside from potentially contracting whatever illnesses they might have had while alive — or gotten since they died — being bitten by the undead was just like any other injury. It hurt and bled like a sonofabitch, but wasn't necessarily a death sentence like in the movies. It didn't turn you into one of them.
Being swarmed by a horde of zombies and getting ripped into pieces would definitely still kill you, though. And there was no coming back from that. The unidentified, cosmic event at fault seemed to have been a one-time thing, not affecting the ones dying after the initial Rising.
Which only made the situation all the more baffling. There was no apparent purpose for the undead's existence and no explanation as to how or why they had risen. The zombies seemed incapable of intelligent thought, heeding only their base instinct of chewing on anything with a pulse. They were nothing more than slow, dumb animals, only vaguely resembling the humans they had once been.
So while terrifying at first glance and certainly dangerous, the zombies were ultimately rather pitiful creatures.
On the plus side, that meant the amount of undead was finite. Only a certain number had risen and, since no new ones were being made, the threat would eventually be neutralized. Jong Woo imagined there were places where that had already happened. Places with sparse populations and, as a result, a lower percentage of dead people that could rise. Or cultures where cremation and other forms of funeral rites that destroyed the bodies were more common.
Seoul could no doubt have been a candidate — most people were cremated and there weren't a whole lot of graveyards within the heart of the city — had it not been for the sheer size of its population. With millions of people crammed into such a relatively small area, it stood to reason that the number of people who died there on a daily basis still had to be pretty high. And anyone still lying on a slab at a morgue or in the cooler at a funeral home had been one of the lucky candidates to get reanimated.
Jong Woo gritted his teeth and shifted his grip on his short-handled axe, the weight of it comforting in his hand. The subtle jingle that followed the movement — a familiar tinkle of metal and enamel — eased some of the tension he could feel gathering in his shoulders.
Jae Ho had been cremated long before the Rising, but Jong Woo wasn't sure about Seok Yoon and Chang Hyun. He'd made no attempt to contact their families to find out if their bodies had been claimed and properly taken care of — or exactly how they'd died, for that matter. Their injuries might have been so severe that they couldn't rise.
Jong Woo knew for sure that Mrs. Eom wouldn't return, nor would the pervert from 313. He'd cracked their skulls with enough force to paint the walls with their brain matter. The giggling twin might, though, since cuts and broken bones only seemed to slow the undead down, not kill them. In hindsight, Jong Woo wished he'd been more thorough and not settled for letting the fucker bleed out on that rainy rooftop. Then he wouldn't have to wonder if he'd one day be unlucky enough to see that stupid face again.
Jong Woo should have bashed all of their heads in.
Especially one of them.
The worst of them all.
He might very well have risen, none of his injuries severe enough to prevent him from doing so. Even if Jong Woo knew it wouldn't be the same — all zombies were just shambling corpses without thoughts or purpose — the knowledge that he might be out there, like a specter lurking just outside Jong Woo's awareness, was bone-chilling.
The thought of seeing Seo Moon Jo again — both his reanimated corpse and the hallucinations conjured by Jong Woo's unstable mind — was enough to put his teeth on edge.
And leave him with horrifying nightmares that often had him waking up gasping for breath or, on one memorable occasion, outright screaming.
Jong Woo was lucky that the other survivors inside the bunker were willing to turn a blind eye to that little habit of his. Though, in all fairness, he wasn't the only one plagued by nightmares. Some survivors were even bordering on catatonic from the shock and horrors they'd witnessed, staring blankly or just quietly crying for hours on end. His struggles were a lot easier to hide in comparison, especially since he'd learned the hard way that voicing them out loud only got him tired sighs and weird looks. So he didn't even try this time, making sure to keep everything wrapped up tight and out of sight from prying eyes.
All things considered, Jong Woo probably came across as surprisingly calm and put-together to the other survivors, though he certainly didn't feel like it on the inside.
Some days, the ghosts haunting him felt frighteningly real.
But it helped to remind himself that even if Seo Moon Jo had risen with the rest, he'd probably been put down already. And, even if he hadn't, it was highly unlikely that they would stumble across each other in a city as large as Seoul. Since there would be no intelligence behind Moon Jo's actions, he wouldn't know to come looking for Jong Woo.
All those flashes Jong Woo saw in his peripheral of a tall, hauntingly familiar figure were surely just his mind playing tricks on him.
None of it was real.
Jong Woo grimaced and pushed the thought aside, forcing his mind back on track. He shouldn't get distracted. He had to focus on his mission.
After one final scan of the still-deserted street, Jong Woo turned and jumped down from the car. The nearby birds squawked and scattered in a black blur of flapping wings. They didn't go far, however, settling on a nearby car instead, clearly not willing to abandon their meal just yet. Jong Woo could feel their eyes peering at him as he weaved between the debris and dead bodies, knowing they would no doubt swarm back to the carcass as soon as he was no longer seen as a potential threat.
He honestly couldn't begrudge them.
Food and supplies of any kind were becoming more and more scarce, though the emergency broadcast had said the military was trying to bring in a shipment of necessities to the city as soon as possible. Whether or not those supplies would reach Jong Woo and his fellow survivors was impossible to say with so many people scrambling for survival, but the thought alone helped boost morale.
No one — not the government, the military, the police, or the citizens — had been prepared for this. How could they be? How could anyone possibly predict that, all of a sudden, waves of undead would come pouring out of morgues or claw their way out of their own graves? That was the kind of thing a crazy conspiracy theorist might prepare for but not regular people.
They'd all been taken by surprise.
The estimation was that most people had died within the first ten hours of the Rising, while the police and military were still scrambling to make sense of what was happening and push back against the onslaught. Panic had swept across the city, some fleeing, others hiding, and even once the dust had begun to settle, things didn't really get better. If anything, they got worse.
During the days that followed, the true severity of the situation set in. And it wasn't the number of dead that was the most alarming part — impossible to properly count due to the apocalypse still underway, too many people missing or in hiding — but the state of anarchy that had quickly descended over the city.
In the end, the zombies weren't even the worst part about the Rising — it was the people.
Other humans.
Wretched, selfish humans who wouldn't hesitate to physically climb over another to save themselves, or push a stranger into a swarm of the undead just to gain precious seconds to attempt an escape. Humans who looted stores and greedily hoarded the available resources, then offered to trade them at ridiculously high prices, feeding off of other people's desperation.
Even with zombies roaming the streets, the living, breathing humans somehow managed to be the worse monsters.
And the police and military had no idea how to combat that, having already lost control of the city thanks to the zombie outbreak. Any structure and authority they'd once had was long gone and several gangs — both old and newly formed, it seemed — took advantage of the confusion and tried to claim as much territory as possible.
Seoul had been plunged into violent, lawless chaos, of the kind that meant Jong Woo had seen more than one cop lying dead in the street, killed not by hungry teeth and clawing nails, but knives and blunt-force trauma.
Jong Woo always felt his heart lodge in his throat whenever he saw a body in uniform. And even if he knew it was already too late, he always stopped to make sure it wasn't Officer So. It was a reflex, probably stemming from the fact that he hadn't heard from her since she'd returned his book at the hospital. She might have unnerved him with her question about what had happened at the studio — making it clear she wasn't satisfied with the official version — but he still didn't want her to die.
Out of everyone he'd spoken to since he'd arrived in Seoul, she was one of the few who had actually listened to him. And while she might not have been able to help him all that much in the end, at least she'd tried.
That was more than could be said for a lot of people.
Sometimes, Jong Woo felt guilty for not giving her a call to make sure she was okay. But, at the same time, he knew it would be a bad idea to draw Officer So's attention to himself. She might start asking questions again — ones he definitely didn't want to answer.
So, in the end, he never did.
Besides, Jong Woo wanted to spend what little battery and service he had to call his mom, needing to make sure that she and his brother were still safe, barricaded together with a couple of their neighbors back in Busan. Thankfully, if yesterday's broadcast was to be believed, the military was set to march into Busan early the next morning to start clearing the streets of zombies. If all went well, his mother and brother should soon be out of immediate danger.
The military's efforts to reclaim towns and cities had been going on for almost two weeks by then and several had already been deemed zombie free. Slowly but surely, the tide was turning. It was a very slow process, however, and it looked like the military had decided to save Seoul for last.
It was difficult to say if they would be fighting the dead or the living when they arrived.
If he'd been able to, Jong Woo would have headed back to Busan long ago. But there were no trains or buses and, even if he'd known how to drive, the military had put up barricades around the city. They'd said it was to stop the huge number of undead within the heart of Seoul from pouring out into the nearby towns, but Jong Woo couldn't help but wonder if it was also to keep the humans from fleeing. A fraction of the population had been able to evacuate during those first couple of days, but the barricades had put a swift and permanent end to that.
Ever since, those still trapped within Seoul were simply left to fend for themselves.
And, as the number of zombies steadily dwindled, being picked off by what little police remained and the occasional daring survivor, it was becoming more and more clear that other humans would be the next big threat.
It came as no surprise to Jong Woo that, even in a situation like this, people truly were the worst.
Jong Woo turned down a side street, his gaze making a quick, practiced sweep to take in his surroundings. There were no undead within sight but he knew better than to let his guard down. He stopped after another couple of steps, eyeing the seemingly deserted street. His axe hung harmless at his side, though his grip around its handle remained firm. A couple of seconds passed before he swung the axe forward in a slow, wide arch, the tinkling of his bracelet filling the air. The sound bounced against the nearby buildings, amplifying until it became jarringly loud in the otherwise suffocating silence.
While some preferred stealth, opting to simply sneak past the undead, Jong Woo would rather face them head-on. He had no patience for subtlety and the thought of being ambushed by those blank-eyed corpses made his skin crawl.
He'd had his fill of unseen dangers lurking in the shadows, waiting to strike.
Jong Woo made another swing with his axe, his bracelet jingling, but no zombies came stumbling out from the cracks and crevices. The street truly did appear to be empty.
With that determined, Jong Woo started walking again, picking up his pace. He still kept an eye out, however, knowing there might be more than just zombies hiding in the gloomy doorways. But, for now, the only movements he spotted were more scavenging birds and a glimpse of a gray cat slinking around a corner.
Jong Woo couldn't help smiling, comforted by the knowledge that while the undead might try to eat anything that moved, the odds of them managing to catch any of the stray animals living on the streets were slim. They were much too slow and especially the cats seemed to know to keep their distance from the lumbering zombies.
Jong Woo turned to face the road ahead of him again and, even as he scanned for threats, he could feel his thoughts begin to drift. Scouting missions were, on the whole, rather uneventful.
He hadn't spoken to Ji Eun in four days.
She'd welcomed his calls at first — while chaos still reigned — everyone frightened and unsure of who had died and what was going on. But the more the situation had calmed, the more she'd pulled away from him. And while Jong Woo was glad to know she was safe, currently hiding with her roommate together with some people from her apartment building, he couldn't deny that it'd hurt when she'd told him not to come to her.
Had forbid him from even trying.
He'd offered out of pure reflex — a kneejerk reaction after so many years of being her boyfriend — but she'd declined before he'd even finished the sentence. At first, he thought she'd done it out of concern for him, not wanting him to get hurt as he traversed the streets of Seoul, but then he'd registered the tone of her voice as she'd refused him.
The subtle but unmistakable hint of fear.
She was afraid of him.
Or maybe not him personally, but definitely the pain and grief he'd unintentionally brought her. Like Jae Ho being murdered. Ji Eun getting kidnapped and having her tooth forcibly removed — a tooth she might or might not have realized now adorned the bracelet Jong Woo wore. Her waking up in the hospital, only to be told that she'd survived a violent bloodbath, her own boyfriend being responsible for one of the dead bodies now cooling in the morgue.
Perhaps it made sense for her to be afraid — or at least want some time away from him — but the rejection still hurt. Jong Woo had done it to save her. He'd fought a literal psychopath for her sake. But, at the same time, she would never have been in that mess if it hadn't been for him, so he knew he had no right to feel hurt.
And, because of that, he hadn't been able to bring himself to call her again. And, not so surprisingly, she'd made no attempt to call him, either. Sure, his phone had been dead for the past ten hours or so, meaning she wouldn't have been able to reach him, even if she wanted to, but he doubted that she did.
She'd seemed almost relieved when they'd hung up last time, as if he was someone she would rather avoid — maybe even forget entirely.
He supposed fear and trauma might do that to a person, but he would be lying if he said the thought hadn't caused an overwhelming rush of grief. She was slipping away from him, slowly but surely, and even if he still loved her — as much as he was able to with the phantom ghosts and tempting whispers currently living inside his head — he was beginning to realize that, just maybe, he had to let her go.
Too much had happened — too much pain and suffering, causing a deep, jagged wound, still oozing, barely scabbed over — for them to repair whatever relationship they'd once had. Perhaps it had already been too late, even before she'd been taken to Eden and used as a bargaining chip.
Maybe their relationship had been doomed from the moment he'd set foot inside that godforsaken studio, his life getting turned upside down by that infernal—
A sudden scream cut through the air, making Jong Woo's head snap up. It was a distinctly human scream — a woman, by the sounds of it. And while it had certainly been laced with fear, it had lacked the agony that usually came with being attacked by the undead.
He had an idea of what that might mean.
Jong Woo started running before he'd even made a conscious decision to do so.
The scream had sounded relatively close but that was difficult to say for sure with how sound bounced against the narrowly-spaced buildings. Fortunately, there was soon another scream — weaker and briefer — but enough to help guide him closer. He knew he was on the right track when he started hearing the sound of shuffling bodies, muffled curses, and low, desperate whimpers.
Jong Woo gritted his teeth as he turned around a corner, eyes scanning the street, not breaking his stride. Then had to skid to a sudden halt when he caught movement in the corner of his eye, the sounds of distress spine-chillingly close.
And, right there in a filthy, shadowed side alley, was some creep, his back to Jong Woo, bent over a struggling woman. She was trying her best to fight back, but she was already pushed down against the grimy asphalt and it was clear she wouldn't be able to hold him off much longer.
"Yah!" Jong Woo's voice cut through the air with a sharpness that surprised even him. "Get the fuck off her!"
Both the creep and the woman froze, their gazes snapping to look at him. Jong Woo didn't recognize either of them, but that only meant they weren't from his bunker or any of the other shelters directly next to his own. There were a lot of improvised safe zones scattered across the city and they rarely interacted unless to trade for supplies and manpower.
The woman's eyes were wide with fear, though a spark of hope — desperate, pleading hope — lit in them when she saw him. She looked young, probably a couple of years younger than Jong Woo.
"Help me! P-please help—"
"Mind your own business, pretty boy," the man drawled, his tone one of confident, nonchalant superiority — as if Jong Woo would have no choice but to obey him.
Jong Woo's hackles rose when the man turned back to the woman, as if the interruption was barely even worthy of note. The woman let out a sharp, frightened noise, fumbling to push the man's hands away when he attempted to unbuckle her belt.
Anger flared, bright and blazing inside Jong Woo's chest — hot enough to burn.
He heard a soft, metallic jingle, like little bells.
Jagiya.
Jong Woo took a slow breath, his grip around his axe tightening.
"I told you to get off her."
While Jong Woo's voice sounded calm, he was struggling to control the white-hot anger boiling inside of him. He wanted nothing more than to march over to them and pull the man off the woman, but he couldn't be sure that was all he would do it he allowed himself to step closer. He could feel the bitter taste of disgust at the back of his tongue.
Some people truly were despicable — worthless, selfish, and beyond saving.
The man scoffed in annoyance, but didn't even bother to turn around this time. His actions did slow somewhat, however, even as he remained straddling the woman.
Perhaps the thought of having an audience made him uncomfortable.
"What?" the man barked. "You want to take her place?"
Jong Woo wrinkled his nose at the question, but couldn't say he felt particularly threatened. If anything, the juvenile retort only made him despise the man even more. He was probably a lifelong bully who was used to getting his way through threats and intimidation.
Jong Woo was honestly tempted to say yes, just to see what the man would do. Most likely, he wouldn't actually dare to come after Jong Woo who — while admittedly not the tallest nor strongest of men — was both armed and not the least bit afraid. The man was a coward who probably only dared to target those weaker than him.
He wouldn't stand a chance against someone who actually knew how to fight back.
The woman was outright sobbing by then, letting out sharp, hiccupping noises of anguish.
Do you want to kill him?
Jong Woo's next breath hitched, the familiar whisper sending a thrill of excitement through him.
Yes, he did — with a ferocity that bordered on desperation.
The need was gnawing at him, like a hunger he couldn't sate — a hollow space within him he couldn't quite seem to fill, no matter how hard he tried. He knew it was dangerous to succumb. Every time he even considered doing so feeling like sliding further down a dark and slippery slope, but it was simply so very tempting to give in to the festering anger and hate.
But Jong Woo knew he shouldn't. What had happened at Eden had been a one-time thing — a panicked, desperate response to days of gaslighting, manipulation, and trauma. He wasn't like that. He wasn't like them.
Except, deep down, he knew he was.
The joy and satisfaction he'd felt as he'd killed the residents at that godforsaken studio wasn't normal. The fact that he still felt it, long after the adrenaline and shock had settled — remorse nowhere to be seen — said a thing or two about him as well.
He didn't regret what he'd done. A part of him even reveled in it.
He probably wouldn't regret it this time, either.
No one will know.
The pleas and half-choked cries of the woman faded into the background, muted and inconsequential, as Jong Woo's attention seemed to narrow down, turning razor-sharp — with one single focus in mind. The man still had his back turned, paying no attention to anything but the helplessly sobbing woman he was trying to assault. It was simply too perfect — the opportunity too tempting to pass up on.
You know what to do.
Jong Woo exhaled, slow and precise.
He did.
There was no hesitation in his steps as he strode forward, or when he pulled his axe back. The bells jingled again, soft and musical in his ears — like a beautiful, irresistible siren's song.
Promising pleasure beyond compare.
Yes, jagiya.
The whisper was joyful — triumphant — a rush of satisfaction washing through Jong Woo, breathtaking in its intensity. Spurring him on.
The axe sunk into the back of the man's skull with a dull, gratifying thunk.
There were no sounds from the man himself — there was no time for him to react, cry out, or defend himself. He simply stiffened, his body seizing up from the shock, as if pathetically trying to process what had just happened.
Time seemed to slow, stretching on for a glorious, breathtaking eternity, almost delicate in its perfection. As if to graciously allow Jong Woo to better savor the moment — the rush, the surge of power, the pride over what he'd just done.
Effortless. Quick. Soundless.
Beautiful.
Jong Woo's next breath sounded loud in his ears, trembling, excited — euphoric — and a shiver of delight ran down his spine. It was everything he'd hoped for. Exactly as he remembered. The hate was still there, burning bright, but the satisfaction overwhelmed it.
Knowing that he'd extinguished the source of his ire felt exquisite.
It was perfect.
But he was forced to return to reality soon enough.
As the man began to go limp, Jong Woo gripped the handle of his axe with both hands, bracing for the extra weight. He gave it a tug, not to pull it out — he knew from experience it'd be lodged in there pretty tight — but to drag the man's dead body back and off the woman.
The man was deceptively heavy — most dead bodies were — but Jong Woo only needed to pull so far before gravity took over, the corpse slumping harmlessly to the ground in an undignified heap. The dead man's feet were still tangled with the woman's but at least she wasn't crushed underneath him.
Jong Woo blew out a slow breath, slightly bent over, still gripping his axe, and glanced over at the woman.
She looked no less afraid than she had when the man was attacking her.
She'd quieted, sure, no longer sobbing, but her eyes were wide and frightened, silent tears running down her face. She stared at him with a blankness that was either shock or paralyzing terror — perhaps both. It was a little difficult to tell.
Jong Woo felt a prickle of something — discomfort, or maybe even annoyance — but pushed it aside. He didn't need praise or gratitude.
He might honestly have done it more for his own sake than hers.
And he knew that, to most people, this would definitely be considered an overreaction. There was even a part of Jong Woo that still did — one that kicked and screamed every time the whispers started, still feebly struggling against the pull — but it was getting quieter and quieter. Maybe, if the world hadn't gone to shit straight after Jong Woo had gotten out of the hospital, he would have been more successful in fighting back against whatever sickness Seo Moon Jo had planted inside of him. But it was a lot harder with Seoul being what it was.
Ironically enough, the twisted lessons Jong Woo had learned at Eden had saved his life more than once. Other survivors often hesitated when a zombie charged at them, seeing the remnants of the human they had once been, but Jong Woo didn't. He knew that someone simply looking like a human was no indication of whether or not they actually were one.
The worst monsters could often be found hiding behind polite, charming smiles, not a gaping, snarling maw.
Jong Woo let go of his axe and crouched down. Then, without thinking, shifted closer to the woman. Now that the anger had faded, the sight of her distress made his heart clench and he couldn't help wanting to comfort her. The man hadn't gotten further than opening her belt and jeans, but she still had to be incredibly traumatized.
Jong Woo didn't realize his mistake until she flinched away from him with a heartbreaking little whimper.
Jong Woo froze.
He couldn't blame her for her reaction. Considering what he'd just done, he probably wasn't any less of a monster in her eyes. And the fact that he was a man surely only made it worse.
He slowly leaned back again — trying to swallow down the roll of nausea — and held up his hands to show he wouldn't try to touch her.
"You should go," he said instead, nodding toward the other end of the alley. The one she should head down to avoid having to climb over the dead body of the man who had attacked her.
She stared at him for several beats, as if the words didn't quite register. Or maybe she was simply too frightened to move. Jong Woo looked down at the dead body next to him, guessing it might be easier for her if his attention was elsewhere.
Only then did he notice that his right hand was splattered with blood.
Of course it was — he'd just buried his axe in a man's skull.
Jong Woo quickly wiped his left hand over his face, grimacing when it came back streaked with blood. That probably hadn't helped in making the woman feel less intimidated. Though maybe it didn't make much of a difference — she'd probably be terrified of him with or without the blood stains.
He continued to wipe the blood off his face, making sure not to look up as he heard the woman fumble to put her clothes back in order. She then pulled her legs free, the corpse shifting slightly as she did so, followed by the sound of shoes scraping against the asphalt as she tried to rise. Even without looking at her, Jong Woo could tell that her movements were shaky and unsteady, but he made no effort to help. His offer probably wouldn't be any more welcome the second time around.
Neither of them said anything, leaving them in an awkward, deafening silence.
It seemed to take forever before Jong Woo heard the hesitant, shuffling footsteps of the woman leaving. He looked up only when he was certain she'd gotten far enough down the street that she wouldn't feel too threatened, should she happen to glance back at him.
Jong Woo gritted his teeth when he saw the hunched line of her shoulders and the slight limp in her step.
He looked down at the dead man next to him and, in a petty show of frustration, reached out and gave the axe a sharp yank. It didn't do much aside from making the corpse twitch pathetically. The man was already dead and couldn't feel any pain, no matter how much Jong Woo wished it upon him.
He shouldn't have killed the bastard so quickly.
After glancing up to make sure the woman had disappeared around the corner, Jong Woo rose to his feet, his bracelet jingling as he moved. He stood there for a second, looking down at the dead body, feeling disturbingly detached. He knew he should be freaking out — feel guilty, disgusted, horrified — but he couldn't bring himself to. He'd lost count of how many zombies he'd killed since the Rising, but this was his first human.
Well, his first human since Eden.
It's beautiful, jagiya. I'm so proud of you.
Jong Woo bared his teeth.
"Shut up," he snapped, reaching down to grab the handle of his axe.
There was no reply from the voice this time — sometimes there was, sometimes there wasn't — and Jong Woo was never quite sure which one he preferred. The less he heard from it, the better, but being able to argue back also made him feel like he'd at least tried to stand his ground. As if he wasn't just rolling over and accepting defeat.
Worst by far, though, were the times when he saw him.
That never failed to send a shiver down Jong Woo's spine. Partly because he knew they were hallucinations, but also because they might just not be. Seo Moon Jo could be out there, prowling the streets of Seoul, a mindless, ravenous monster looking for blood.
Though that was nothing new, Jong Woo supposed.
The man had been nothing short of a devil even while alive.
Jong Woo gripped his axe firmly with both hands and braced his foot against the dead man's back, then began wriggling the blade free. As he worked, Jong Woo debated the merits of getting a hammer instead of an axe. After all, it had done wonders against Mrs. Eom and not gotten stuck in the cranium quite like his axe tended to do — which had definitely caused trouble when there was more than one zombie around. They didn't exactly line up and politely wait for their turn while Jong Woo paused to retrieve his weapon from his previous target.
With a final, sharp push downward the axe finally dislodged from the back of the man's head. Jong Woo blew out a breath and straightened, one foot still resting against the corpse's back. He looked down the street, in the direction the woman had disappeared, and hoped she'd make it back to whatever shelter she had in one piece. The limp might make it difficult for her to outrun the undead.
Jong Woo shook his head, knowing it wasn't any of his concern anymore — he'd done what he could to help her, even if it might not have been the kind of assistance she'd been expecting.
He looked down at the dead body again and, as he pulled his foot back, realized his shoe had left a dusty imprint on the back of the man's dark shirt. Jong Woo couldn't help feeling a twist of satisfaction at the sight.
The man had been despicable and deserved what had happened to him.
Jong Woo was glad he'd done it.
A flicker in the corner of his eye — a flash of movement — made Jong Woo's head snap up, heart suddenly in his throat. For a split second, both frustratingly short and somehow agonizingly long, he could see a dark shape further down the street. A brief glimpse of that familiar silhouette, as terrifying as it was unforgettable.
Jong Woo would recognize it anywhere.
It seemed to be burned onto his retinas — a hazy, shadowy outline, crowding across his field of vision, insistent and never quite fading. A ghostly copy of the real thing, like the lingering imprint after having stared too long at the sun.
Jong Woo barely had time to suck in a sharp breath, much less move, before the figure disappeared again, between one blink and the next. As if never having been there in the first place.
Jong Woo swallowed, his heart racing — blood rushing in his ears from the sudden spike of fear — and tried telling himself it was just a hallucination. It must have been. If it had been the real Seo Moon Jo — or whatever passed for real for a reanimated corpse — it would have attacked, not disappeared.
Then again, perhaps the undead version would have been preferable to a hallucination. At least there would be a physical body for Jong Woo to take out his anger on — a chance for him to kill the bastard again.
And, hopefully, make it stick this time.
That won't matter, jagiya.
Jong Woo grimaced at the low, sensual whisper, his grip around his axe tightening.
I told you — we'll be together forever, you and I.
"Fuck off!" he snapped, turning away, refusing to keep staring at the corner where he'd glimpsed that cursed ghost. "You're already dead, you freak! So just leave me the fuck alone!"
He was met only by silence and the soft jingling of his bracelet, bouncing hollowly against the surrounding walls. The sound — sometimes comforting, sometimes horrifying — felt almost mocking, sending a chill down Jong Woo's spine.
He gritted his teeth and, after a frustrated noise, started walking again, practically stomping down the alley. He forced himself to push all thoughts of Seo Moon Jo aside and focus on the task at hand. He was on a scouting mission, trying to find stores or buildings that hadn't yet been looted for food and supplies.
Survival took priority, then Jong Woo could start dealing with the veritable minefield his mind had turned into, full of sharp, jagged edges, dark, looming shadows, and dangerous pitfalls.
He just had to make it through the zombie apocalypse and then, just maybe, his life could return to at least a semblance of normal.
The thought sounded laughable, even to his own ears.