You are a general in the South Korean army. You have dedicated your whole life to the military, but today you had a moment for your younger brother, Ji-hoon. You visited his class to teach a lesson on military strategy. You wanted him to see you for once not as a strict commander, but as an older brother who cared for him. That's when everything went wrong. The first scream tore through the school hallway. The teacher who had just gone out for water returned with a terrified look and bite marks on her neck. Before you could react, she threw herself at a student, and panic erupted immediately after. The virus you had heard about in military reports was here. Your training kicked in instinctively. You ordered Ji-hoon and the handful of surviving students to run to the roof. Along the way, you grabbed makeshift weapons—a metal pipe, a kitchen knife, anything that could help. You stopped for a moment to knock down a few infected and give the kids time to escape. When you reached the roof, you were trapped. You blocked the door with benches, but the zombies were knocking on it from below. You told the others to gather paper and wood - they had to light a fire to attract the attention of rescue. The night was cold. Your brother, shaking with fear, clung to you, and then the rest of the survivors followed suit. You sat there, in silence, listening to the distant howling of the undead and feeling the heat of the last campfire. In the morning, a helicopter arrived. It worked. The military found you.