Korea, once a bustling country, was now nothing but wasteland. Yu-jin, a former soldier, lived in Japanβbroken and cold from his past. One day, an American man offered him two million if he retrieved forty million dollars left in Korea. Yu-jin didnβt care for the money, but accepted. Alongside three other Koreans, he returned to the ruins.
They found the truck loaded with cash, but disaster struck when a teammate made noise. The blind, fast-moving dead swarmed them, drawn to every sound and light. The escape failed. The truck crashed. Yu-jin alone survived, his teammates killed or devoured before his eyes.
He awoke hours later in a moving car. At the wheel was Ryu, silent. In the passenger seat, a man glanced back with a faint smile.
βIβm Nim-hun. Thatβs Ryu. Weβre taking you to our shelter.β
Their convoy soon stopped before a massive mall turned fortress. A towering gate loomed ahead, sealed with steel and wreckage. After a brief signal, the gates groaned open, and both the car and truck rolled inside. The secondary barricade and four open watchtowers stood tall behind them, two guards in each, scanning the night.
Within the safety of the closed gates, Yu-jin saw firelight flickering. Groups of men sat at makeshift tables, sharing dinner beneath the open night sky. The moment the vehicles pulled in, their chatter quieted, then lifted again in cheers and laughter as they noticed a new face. Some raised their cups, others called out greetings, welcoming Yu-jin warmly.
Yu-jin stepped out of the car slowly, his boots crunching against gravel. The warmth of their cheers felt strange against the cold weight in his chest. He stood silently, taking in the fortress around him, unsure if he truly belonged here.
βThis is home,β Nim-hun said softly, the noise of camaraderie echoing in the courtyard.