4DAS Chapter 3 (Part 2) – End
by BrieHe wanted to ask that. He wanted to say it.
But then—
“……!”
A violent cracking noise exploded from outside the young man’s room. And the moment a high-pitched scream tore through the air, both men realized—
Something had gone terribly wrong.
It was as if things had been set on this course from the very beginning. Watching the barricade being torn apart piece by piece, Rowon couldn’t help but think that.
If he could come up with a clever way to survive this moment—like he had when he hid in the wardrobe—then nothing would be better. If he chose to hide himself rather than stab someone, and if that attempt succeeded, it would be the best outcome he could hope for.
But Rowon wasn’t confident that things would go so smoothly this time. In fact, he fully expected they wouldn’t. This morning, he had survived only by sheer, final scraps of luck—and now he had the chilling certainty that luck like that would not strike twice. Good things don’t happen in succession. And if they do, it only means something worse is waiting afterward.
The barricade was coming apart far faster than he liked. His room actually offered fewer hiding places than the fourth floor had. Beneath the desk, there was nothing but piles of junk. Under the bed was too cramped. And the wardrobe—its doors had been removed to use as barricade material. With nowhere else, he pressed himself flat against the wall beside the window, but even as he did, he knew it was pointless. They would find him.
‘But I can’t go out there either.’
The man was still talking with Baek Seonghyeon—talking about those who forget and those who cannot, and speaking of revenge. Of course, none of those philosophical ideas mattered to Rowon right now—not when the sound of splintering wood was practically breathing against his ear.
And yet for a fleeting moment, he wondered—was Baek Seonghyeon serious when he said he envied those who could forget? No matter how desperately a person tries to forget, reality always clings to their heels like a shadow—merciless, inescapable. And Baek Seonghyeon himself was part of that shadow, whether he realized it or not.
But there was no room left for reflection. Time was running out. There was no escape in sight. That meant only one option remained. Perhaps there might be another way—but from where Rowon stood, the only path he could see was the most violent one. Truly, it was the only one.
—Rowon.
Just like back then. Like that moment he never wanted to remember.
—Rowon, I’m sorry. I know you’ll hate me for this… but I’m sorry I’m making you do it.
Maybe there had been another way, even back then. Just like now, he’d gripped a knife in trembling hands, torn between choices. Even as the situation pushed him to act, he had questioned it. Was it really just the situation forcing him, or had some part of him wanted it? Was he cornered into doing something monstrous—or had some hidden truth inside him simply followed its own desire?
He never figured out the answer.
—I’m sorry I always ended up being the good older brother, and making you the bad younger one.
Even though there were surely other ways, he didn’t want to consider that he might have deliberately chosen this one. That maybe he’d just used the situation as an excuse to act on his true feelings. He didn’t want to think about it—he didn’t want to even imagine it. He just wanted to run away. From everything.
Then, just like before, there was no time. With a loud crack, the barricade gave way. Once found, it would all be over in a flash. Even if he tried to hide awkwardly, it would only buy him a few more seconds of fear.
‘Still… I wanted to show him only the good parts of me.’
That foolish thought didn’t even have time to rise to the surface. The moment the plank fell away and someone stepped boldly into the room, Rowon’s body moved before his mind did.
He really had no choice. It just so happened that he was holding the knife. Just so happened that the intruder leaned in at the perfect angle. Just so happened that Rowon was someone who had done this before.
‘Just so happened that I’m this kind of person.’
But what was different from last time—was the sound. Do people really make such terrible noises when they die? The scream was more gruesome and harrowing than Rowon had expected. It didn’t last long—crumpling like a deflated balloon—but the sheer violence of that instant pierced straight through his eardrums.
It had been a mistake. It hadn’t been this loud before. When he’d killed his own brother, all he’d heard was the disgusting sound of the blade cutting through. He’d assumed it would be the same this time—silent.
But now, there was no undoing it. A rush of hot, sticky liquid poured over his face, and for a moment, Rowon couldn’t see anything but red. And honestly, he didn’t want to see. Not the consequences of the horror he’d just committed.
The moment he shoved the body away and collapsed onto the floor, the door flung open, and two people stepped in. One of them, surely, was the familiar man—and the other—
“So you were here after all, you bastard.”
Blood clouded his vision so much he couldn’t make out the face clearly. Truly. Just like when he killed the only brother he had. Even then, he hadn’t known who was staring back at him with such hatred.
Of course, that doesn’t mean he didn’t see. He hadn’t heard the voice back then, but it’s not like he hadn’t seen the face at all. He could pretend not to know, but now that the one who remembered everything had come this close, he couldn’t bury it anymore.
The man waited until Rowon had wiped the blood from his hand with the back of his other hand. When he finally managed to open his eyes, the face that filled his view was one that looked even more openly filled with hatred and contempt than the last time he had seen it.
And in that moment, Rowon was sure.
He had never had a way out to begin with.
“How is it that you’re the same now as you were then? Even back then, you were killing someone.”
Unlike when he had been talking to the other man, this voice held no trace of politeness or restraint. Not that Rowon had expected any. Neither of them had the kind of relationship where such things would be expected. Not since the moment Rowon had recognized him as his brother’s unnamed lover. Not since the day he’d run away without explaining a single thing.
“…I…”
What on earth was he supposed to say to that man? If he’d meant to kneel and say sorry, he should’ve done it the moment he was first discovered. It was too late now to beg for forgiveness—his hands were already stained with blood.
“You see that, don’t you? Even knowing what kind of bastard he is, you still wanted to hide him?”
The mocking voice was aimed at the man. Rowon couldn’t bring himself to meet the man’s eyes. All of his efforts to hide Rowon had gone to waste in a single moment. And that wasn’t all. He had even tried to stop a man who was so clearly out for revenge. That man probably wouldn’t walk away unscathed either.
He had ruined everything. Just like he always did.
‘…At the very least, not him.’
Now wasn’t the time to be afraid of what kind of look that man would give him. He had already prepared himself for contempt or disappointment. It wasn’t as if he had ever been a good person in that man’s eyes. When they first met, he was the son of an enemy. After that, a would-be rapist. Even at his best, he’d been little more than a parasite. Someone like him couldn’t fall any lower.
But even so, he didn’t want that man to get hurt because of him. Ah, he still had the knife in his right hand. It was already drenched in blood—he wasn’t even sure if the blade would cut properly anymore.
‘Before anyone else shows up, I have to at least get him out of here.’
In the end, someone who once turned into a zombie couldn’t truly go back to being human. No, maybe it had nothing to do with being a zombie at all. He had been a killer even before turning, and stayed one after. Maybe it was just that his nature had never changed.
And so, he figured it should be him—
“You idiot, what are you just standing there for?!”
But then it happened. Wham! With a loud smack, Baek Seonghyeon was sent sprawling by the man’s punch. In the next instant, a firm warmth grabbed Rowon’s wrist. Limping with unsteady steps, the man pulled Rowon and jumped over the window sill in one motion.
He almost lost his balance after leaping out first, nearly collapsing. But Rowon caught him just in time, keeping him from falling face-first into the flowerbed. Gripping Rowon’s arm for balance, he looked him straight in the eyes.
“Do you have a motorcycle license?”
“…?!”
“Shit, even if you do, you’re in no condition to drive! Just get on the back! I’ll figure something out!”
The man picked a random bike with the key still in it, and the moment Rowon climbed on behind him, he started the engine and sped off in no particular direction.
As Rowon clung to him, struggling to breathe evenly, he remembered the look in the man’s eyes when he had turned to face him.
There had been no contempt.
No anger.
No disappointment.
Only sorrow.
He never even imagined those bastards would break through the barricade and try to look inside the room. Young-il deeply regretted his own complacency, having felt reassured by nothing more than the movement he’d seen in the apartment hallway.
Clutching the unfamiliar handlebar tightly, he sped away on the motorcycle. He had never ridden one—not before the zombie outbreak, not after. He’d always driven a sedan to work, so he figured it wouldn’t be that different to handle. But the truth was, he barely knew how to operate the thing.
Still, they had to get away. Whether it was for his own sake or for Rowon, who clung to his back in a daze, covered in blood.
“Get a grip, damn it! Snap out of it!”
“I, I…”
Young-il wasn’t even sure who he was yelling at anymore. He was pretending to console Rowon, but the horrors of just a few minutes ago still flashed in his mind like a stain. The blood spurting like a fountain from a punctured throat, the unidentified man collapsing before he even realized what had happened, and Rowon—utterly broken.
No matter how much the zombie outbreak had desensitized people to horror, witnessing a murder up close was still gut-wrenching. Even Baek Seonghyeon had frozen in shock when it happened. The gush of bright red blood after the knife was pulled free was unbearable to look at. Seeing Rowon’s face turn pale as if his own neck had been pierced—it was just as hard to endure.
“It’s partly my fault for paying attention only to the front door and not checking inside. Not that it would’ve helped much even if I had. Anyway, this isn’t just your fault, okay? Are you hearing me, Rowon? We have to run. Do you understand?”
“That’s what I was going to… I didn’t want to either… I didn’t mean for this… I’m sorry, I’m so sorry….”
But Rowon wasn’t much different—rambling without knowing who he was even talking to. Even though Young-il’s words were disjointed, Rowon didn’t seem to hear him at all. He just kept repeating meaningless apologies like a broken recorder.
Who were those apologies for? Were they meant for the biker whose throat had been pierced by the knife? Or were they meant for Young-il, who had been dragged into this danger? Not that he could answer if asked—he didn’t seem to know himself.
“Yeah, I wouldn’t say it was the right thing to do either! But we have to survive first! Get a hold of yourself, damn it!”
What would have been the right thing to do? Young-il couldn’t bring himself to say the question out loud. With people barging in from all directions intending to kill them, was there really a better option than killing someone? If they had surrendered and laid flat from the start, would anything have been different? Or would that have just made it easier for the enemy to slit their throats?
Even so, he didn’t have the courage to tell the boy it was okay either. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault”—that lie was too big to say out loud. After all, Rowon had really killed someone just now, and judging from the way he reacted to Baek Seonghyeon, something had clearly happened before too. Even without the zombie excuse, that young man’s hands didn’t seem all that clean.
‘Then what—just leave the kid to rot?’
What, because he’s a murderer even when he’s not a zombie? Because he kills people in cold blood, he deserves to be thrown away like trash? Let Baek Seonghyeon drag him off and kill him—because that would balance the scales for both today’s murder and the death of his lover?
‘I don’t know.’
Though he was desperately fleeing with the young man in tow, Young-il couldn’t be sure if what he was doing was right. He was running simply because he wanted to. There was no way Baek Seonghyeon, who had just killed someone, would leave Young-il—who had deceived him—unscathed. And more than anything, Young-il wanted the boy to live.
All Young-il could really do was run—from the guilt, from the doubts, from his own breakdown. Unsure even whether they truly wanted to escape or surrender.
“Stop right there, you murdering bastards!”
But there was no time to agonize over it now. The roar of multiple motorcycle engines sent Young-il pushing for more speed. The riders were closing in fast. Most likely, the bikers who had gone up to the fourth floor realized what had happened and joined Baek Seonghyeon in the pursuit.
Would they be mourning their dead comrade? Or were they just blinded by rage? Not that it mattered—the answer wouldn’t come, and even if it did, it wouldn’t mean anything. Whether they fancied themselves humane zombie hunters or were simply filled with aimless fury, what did it change?
If he had to guess, it was probably the latter. The explosion that rang out behind them said as much—louder and clearer than any shout of anger.
“What the hell?!”
The sudden heat, different from the sun’s glare, nearly made him lose his grip on the handlebar. Without even daring to look back, he tightened his grip. Another explosion rang out. This time, Rowon glanced back and shouted, startled.
“They’re throwing canisters—like modified gas cans—just chucking them!”
“Those psychos—how long has it even been since the last supply drop?!”
They must’ve turned gas canisters into homemade bombs. He had suspected it could be done, but didn’t expect they’d actually have them ready already—let alone experience one firsthand.
It had always been a risky escape attempt. The pursuers were seasoned biker gang members used to high-speed chases. Young-il, on the other hand, had never touched a motorcycle before today. It was only a matter of time.
They hadn’t been hit directly by the makeshift explosives, but it didn’t take long for the rear tire to give out, and the bike wobbled sharply. Maybe the tire had melted, or maybe it had caught a shard from the canisters. Either way, Young-il didn’t have the luxury to check—it was obvious the bike wouldn’t last much longer.
Realizing they couldn’t hold out anymore, he pulled over in a maze of backstreets and hastily dismounted. It was better than crashing and getting seriously hurt. Getting flung off a bike and tumbling unharmed only happened in action movies. In real life, it was death—or worse.
But before he could even worry about whether he could run on his injured leg, Young-il felt his body lift off the ground.
“W-Whoa?!”
“Sorry, Mister. Just… please run with me for now!”
Rowon hoisted him onto his back and started running into the narrow alleys. Being chased seemed to have snapped him out of his daze, and that was a small relief at least. Even with a full-grown man on his back, Rowon was surprisingly quick, darting through alleys too tight for a motorcycle to follow.
“Do you know where you’re going? Do you know how to get out of here?”
“I’ve lived in this neighborhood a long time. I know the alleyways well… though they probably do too!”
The winding alleys were lined with old villas and clustered housing. Who knew how long they could keep running? And even if they escaped, it wouldn’t be easy to survive without food or supplies—they had left with nothing but the clothes on their backs.
But there was no other option. As Young-il looked at the dried blood streaked through Rowon’s hair and over his shoulders, he tightened his arms around the boy’s neck.
His breath was burning in his throat, and sweat poured down his body. The man on his back was light enough to subdue but heavy to carry, and Rowon had to readjust his grip on him again and again. Still, he kept running. As long as he could hear footsteps behind them, he had no choice but to continue.
There was no certainty they could outrun their pursuers. Even with his natural stamina, he couldn’t run forever. Their enemies were unburdened, while he was carrying a full-grown man. Anyone with a brain could predict how this would end.
Worse yet, the layout of the neighborhood had changed during the time he’d been a zombie. Paths that used to be clear were now blocked by makeshift barricades, or piled with trash and debris no one ever cleaned. He had been lucky so far not to run into a dead end, but there was no guarantee that luck would hold.
Even so, he ran for one reason only—to create at least a sliver of a chance for the man to hide somewhere safe. The only thing keeping his collapsing legs moving was that stubborn will alone.
“Around here—hah—there’s a convenience store where I used to work. If we just… go a little farther from here…”
“……?”
“The storage room is probably looted, but—the staff restroom—hah—it might still be untouched. There’s nothing in there worth stealing.”
He clearly remembered that the restroom door had a digital lock, put there to keep drunk customers from barging in. Like the upstairs apartment lock, it could be broken—but Rowon believed the odds were low. As long as the batteries still worked, punching in the code would be easy.
“I just hope the lock batteries weren’t stolen… anyway, once we get there, hide inside. I’ll tell you the code.”
“Hide? What about you?”
“I’ll draw their attention. If both of us go inside, they’ll find us right away! They’re chasing me, not you—once you slip inside fast enough, they won’t notice!”
“Hey, Lee Rowon!”
The man struggled in protest, making it harder to keep balance, but Rowon didn’t respond. He kept running. There was no helping it—he had never expected to escape alive in the first place. And he didn’t even know if living was better than dying anymore.
The man would never agree, but to be honest, this was for Rowon’s sake. A memory he couldn’t forget, a truth he could no longer hide—he wasn’t strong enough to keep living with that weight. The man had tried to kill himself again and again and still lived on, still strong enough to save others afterward…
‘But I can’t.’
If he died, he could close his eyes and forget everything. Even if someone discovered the truth afterward, what would it matter once his life was gone? Death was the most reliable escape there was. Maybe the man had instinctively known it, that time he tried to choke Rowon—knowing Rowon would only keep killing, maybe he just wanted to end it there. Reason might deny it, but instinct surely had wanted that.
“Don’t talk nonsense, Lee Rowon! If you were planning this from the start—!”
“Don’t shake me, I’ll fall!”
Staggering, he nearly collapsed for real. Only then did the man stop shaking his shoulders. But the scuffle had slowed them down, and the voices behind them rang even louder—be it pounding footsteps or crude jeers.
“You bastard, you still have the nerve to run?!”
Rowon hoisted Young-il higher on his back and ran again. He didn’t know which pursuer it was, but the voice was familiar—probably one of the two who had searched the fourth floor that morning. Maybe the other one was the man he killed. Or maybe it was someone else entirely.
“Did you really think you could act clean after killing your own brother?!”
This voice he didn’t recognize. But it wasn’t Baek Seonghyeon, that much was certain. He wanted to cover his ears—his own, or the man’s, either one. But with both arms locked under Young-il’s thighs, it was impossible.
Act clean, huh. Maybe they weren’t wrong. After killing his own brother, he had still lived on, pretending to breathe the same air as everyone else. Someone like that dying wouldn’t be strange at all—yet somehow, his stubborn life clung on.
He killed his one and only brother, fled because he didn’t want to be caught by Baek Seonghyeon, got bitten by a zombie that ambushed him along the way, received treatment gas, and returned home to live with a man while pretending to know nothing… From beginning to end, it had all been about running. Running this way, running that way.
‘Come to think of it, I never did explain anything to my brother’s lover.’
Not that he wanted to explain anything, really. That man didn’t seem to want an explanation either. Rowon had figured it out after overhearing his conversation with the man. All he wanted was to kill Rowon and feel relieved. Whether he truly loved his brother or not, Rowon didn’t know, but one thing was clear: he didn’t want the truth—he just wanted to rid himself of his pain.
That much was fine. Since both sides had something to gain, it wasn’t hard to accept. He just needed to buy enough time to hide this person—the man on his back.
He could hide at least one person, couldn’t he? He’d never had anything precious in his life, but maybe in his final moment, he could save at least one thing. He’d probably never have the chance to express the feelings he held for this man, but even if the feelings faded, if the result remained in some way… then that would be enough.
But even that wasn’t going to be easy. Rowon’s assumption crumbled far more easily than he expected.
“Rowon, is that the convenience store you were talking about?”
“…Yeah, that’s it! It’s blocked!”
At the entrance of the convenience store was a barricade that Rowon didn’t remember. It seemed someone had blocked off access from the outside to live inside. Staff restroom or not, if they couldn’t even get into the store, it was meaningless.
They’d have to find another way, even now. But the streets surrounding the store were also blocked off with junked cars and all sorts of debris, leaving nowhere to go. They’d walked themselves straight into a dead end.
‘What do I do now? It’s really blocked…!’
Could they possibly climb one of the obstacles nearby? But they were too tall, and more importantly, trying to climb while carrying the man on his back would take too much time. Even now, the sound of footsteps behind them was growing louder. Would they really make it in time?
But then, a way opened up where he least expected it. As he was frantically looking around, the metal door on the side of the building next to the convenience store suddenly swung open.
“Are you being chased? Then get in!”
The speaker was someone wearing a pitch-black mask that didn’t suit the suffocating heat. Surprised by the sudden development, Rowon hesitated, but the man on his back seemed to recognize the stranger and whispered to him to go in. Without another word, Rowon followed the person into the building, panting.
To be honest, when he first heard the voice, Young-il hesitated, wondering who it was.
In times like these, it wasn’t easy to accept a stranger’s goodwill. It’s not that there was absolutely no one who helped others without any hidden motives, but people in trouble always attracted those who sought to profit from their misfortune. Of course, things were so urgent now that even if they hadn’t known who the other person was, they would’ve gone in anyway…
‘Right, the mask.’
Even though he’d met the person just a few hours earlier, it took him a while to recognize them. Maybe it was because things had been so chaotic. The voice that reluctantly called them in, and the voice that had shouted at the ration point demanding batteries—he finally realized they belonged to the same person.
“Keep your head down. If you’re not careful, they might see you through the window.”
With the door lock closing behind them, Young-il and Rowon followed the masked young man quickly. Outside the building, they could hear the biker gang scrambling around after losing sight of their targets. Some of them were guessing whether they’d jumped the barricade or taken a side alley, but thankfully, none seemed to suspect this building.
Crawling and half-dragging themselves across the hallway, they finally reached an old laundromat at the edge of the building. The shutter was closed, so the inside was quite dark. From the ration supplies stacked in one corner and the makeshift bed made of old winter coats, it seemed this was being used as a hideout.
“No one’s going to come here, so don’t worry.”
“……”
“This used to be my mom’s shop. Seems like no one cared enough to loot a laundromat. Not even after I came back from being a zombie.”
“…Thanks for helping us. You saved our lives.”
The masked person shrugged as if it was nothing. He gave Rowon, covered in blood, a quick glance filled with curiosity, but didn’t ask directly what had happened. He might have lacked survival resources, but he’d clearly learned how to handle people in situations like this.
“Those guys outside… I don’t know much, but they’re dangerous, right? I heard a long time ago not to deal with anyone riding bikes.”
“They’re dangerous, yeah. …But don’t worry. We’re not going to stay here long. We’ll leave as soon as they’re gone.”
“That’s good to hear. Honestly, I didn’t want to hide anyone here for long anyway. If you go up to the rooftop from here, you can cross over to the next building. The gap’s pretty narrow, so as long as you move carefully, you shouldn’t fall. The front door over there connects to a completely different street, so it should be safer than here.”
Sorry I can’t help much more. The masked person mumbled awkwardly, but Young-il just lifted a shoulder lightly. He hadn’t expected much help to begin with. No matter how naïve this person might seem, extending a helping hand to someone being chased was no easy thing.
Even just that bit of help had already been more than enough. Still, if he could ask for just one more thing…
“I have a favor to ask.”
“A favor?”
“If you have any water… would you mind sharing a little? I want to wash off the blood.”
The masked person looked away from Rowon, as if unsure how to respond, then silently grabbed a 2-liter water bottle from a corner of the shop and handed it to Young-il. He hadn’t intended to accept bottled water, thinking tap water would do fine for washing. Young-il shook his head, but the masked man insisted, pushing the bottle into his hand.
“I missed the water cycle yesterday, so I don’t have any running water anyway.”
“……”
“You gave me the batteries, didn’t you? A box of batteries in exchange for a bottle of water is a cheap deal, if you ask me.”
The masked man threw the words out bluntly and waved them off. Leaving the laundromat behind, Young-il climbed the stairs with the young man. Heading back out the rear door felt risky since it led to a narrow alley, so it seemed better to find another way out. If they were lucky, they might even be able to observe the situation from the rooftop.
However, they didn’t immediately cross to the neighboring building like the masked man had suggested. They were both exhausted from the desperate running and fleeing.
‘Honestly, I didn’t even do that much. But Rowon carried me the whole time while running—he must be completely drained.’
Even if the gap between the buildings was narrow, it would be dangerous to try crossing it with trembling legs. Young-il’s leg wasn’t in great shape either, so it was safest to rest up as much as possible before moving again.
Thankfully, the fourth floor had an empty taekwondo studio with an unlocked door. No one seemed to have visited it in a long time—there was a musty, dusty smell the moment they stepped inside. Still, the floor was lined with impact-absorbing mats, which meant they could at least sit and rest more comfortably than on bare concrete.
“Let’s clean the blood off first before we go in. Sit down over there on the steps for a bit.”
The young man staggered and slumped down. Young-il soaked part of his clothing with the bottled water and wiped the blood off Rowon’s face and upper body. He couldn’t afford to use too much. Since they had abandoned all the supplies while fleeing, this bottle was their only source of drinking water. Logically speaking, it might have made more sense to save the water rather than wasting it on wiping off blood…
‘If you don’t wash it off, you can’t forget. And you can’t erase it either.’
He didn’t know whether it was morally right or acceptable to wash away the traces of a killing. But for Rowon right now, it was necessary. After several minutes of struggling, Young-il finally cleaned up the young man’s face.
He couldn’t scrub the blood out of his clothes, but at least he’d managed to make him look human again. At the very least, he didn’t look like a zombie anymore.
However, Rowon’s expression still seemed just as dazed as a zombie’s. Not an actual zombie, but like one from a movie or game—hazy, unfocused, blank.
“Rowon, are you okay?”
There was no answer. The young man didn’t react at all, to the point where Young‑il couldn’t tell whether he even heard him. Just moments ago, he had seemed alert, moving on his own despite everything. But now he was like this again. Well, escaping immediate danger could easily leave a person’s mind unguarded, letting every suppressed thought flood in.
“It was a pretty stupid question, I guess. After what just happened, of course you’re not okay… But if you fall apart now, then what are we supposed to do next?”
Young‑il tried to force out any words he could, just to chase away the silence. In moments like this, silence invited thoughts—dark whispers and terrible possibilities. Even if those thoughts weren’t lies, the truth wouldn’t help them now either.
“Just forget it. You’re good at forgetting, aren’t you? Yeah?”
For now, forget. If there’s strength left later, then maybe—slowly—he could remember again. Young‑il couldn’t do that himself, but Rowon could. He always had, so—
“…I can’t.”
But Rowon whispered hoarsely, as if his throat were being squeezed.
“What?”
“I can’t anymore. I don’t think I can forget. Or pretend I don’t know.”
“……”
“You heard them too, didn’t you? When we were running. That I… that I killed my brother…”
Young‑il’s breath caught. He had no idea how to respond. Even if Rowon had been half out of his mind while escaping, there was no way he hadn’t heard those cruel words.
The puzzle pieces Young‑il had tried so hard not to assemble locked into place all at once. The guilt that clung to Rowon like a shadow wasn’t just the sin of a half‑aware attack while he was a zombie—
“I really did it.”
“……”
“I can’t even lie and say I don’t remember. I just… I did it. That person, and Baek Seonghyeon—this is why they’ve been hunting me.”
“You… you told me you didn’t even know who that man was.”
“I didn’t know his name. We never talked. I barely even heard his voice. All I remember is him crying—screaming—calling for my brother over and over. I never heard him speak normally, so I didn’t recognize him that way. But… but still…”
His tongue stiffened. Even if it hadn’t, he wouldn’t have managed to speak. There were no words. Young‑il could only stare at the boy with a blank, helpless expression.
“He, at least… has the right to avenge my brother.”
There was no more blood left to wipe. The stains on his shirt clung like scars—marks Young‑il had no power to wash away.
“To be honest, my brother and I… we didn’t really get along that well.”
Rowon wasn’t sure what the point was in bringing this up now. But some things just come out, even if they don’t serve a purpose.
He almost said, I’m sorry I lied, but swallowed the words again—it didn’t feel right. Strictly speaking, Rowon hadn’t lied. He’d said his brother was a good person, but he never said they were close. It wasn’t a lie so much as it was silence.
“It’s true that my brother took good care of me. But… that doesn’t mean he liked me. Looking back, it makes sense. Even if he was over ten years older, he was still young, and having a little brother he had to look after all the time must’ve been a burden.”
Rowon didn’t remember his brother getting angry at him very often. Maybe that was because he cared—but maybe it was because he didn’t need to. Their parents always scolded Rowon unfairly, so his brother didn’t have to.
Likewise, Rowon didn’t talk back to his brother much. Sure, it was partly because his brother looked after him. But maybe it was also because he knew that no matter what he said, he’d always end up being the bad one.
His brother had found it annoying to care for him, but maybe he felt a little guilty that their parents so obviously favored him. Rowon, for his part, resented being the unloved one—but at least his brother paid attention to him, so he had no choice but to cling to that. That was the kind of relationship they had.
Neither of them was very confrontational. They both noticed the things they disliked about each other, but rarely brought it up out loud.
“We never fought openly, but we never really liked each other, either. Once I was old enough not to need his help, we didn’t talk much. And after he moved out, we didn’t even see each other…”
They didn’t hate each other enough to cut ties, but they just weren’t compatible. Saying there was no affection at all would be a lie—but they had no desire to spend time together. When they were together, his brother became someone who had to take care of him, and Rowon became the one who got blamed even for things that weren’t his fault.
But even so.
It wasn’t as if their relationship had been so terrible that he would naturally end up killing his only brother with his own hands.
“It was my brother’s birthday. Our parents asked me to deliver a gift to him. His lover had been curious about me, so we figured we might as well have a meal together. But that was the day it all happened—the zombie outbreak.”
“……”
“There wasn’t much we could do. My brother was the one who got bitten first. I saw people around us turning. I saw them attack others like monsters, not even human anymore.”
“……”
“He said he didn’t want to turn. He asked me to kill him before it happened. That much… I could understand. But then…”
Without shame, without hesitation, Rowon slowly continued. For something he had struggled so desperately to hide, the story was painfully ordinary. Just a pair of brothers who were never close, driven into the worst possible choice by disaster.
“And of all things, that’s when my brother said it.”
“Said what?”
“Before his lover arrived—before he saw him like that—he asked me to end it with my own hands.”
So in the end, I had to be the bad one again. When Rowon first heard those words, that was the thought that struck him before anything else.
You were careless. You went to help someone who was collapsing and got bitten. And now you want to save face in front of your lover? You want your little brother to kill you for your dignity’s sake? Again, you get to look noble, and I get to look like the one who murders you.
He knew, rationally, that his brother hadn’t intended it that way. Maybe he wanted to lessen Rowon’s guilt. Maybe he was trying to provoke Rowon into acting quickly. There must have been reasons—Rowon didn’t believe his brother was trash. No matter how strained things were, he wasn’t that kind of person. But still—
“And even so, the thought came. That maybe it was better this way. That maybe someone like me… was better off doing something like that.”
He knew it was wrong. He knew it even then. But in the middle of chaos, with zombies screaming and the stench of blood everywhere, irrationality and madness began to sink into him. Someone had dropped a knife—small, dull, practically just a kitchen knife—but it was enough to push him further.
He stabbed his brother in the throat without hesitation.
He remembered screaming something, though he couldn’t recall the words. Maybe he’d even smiled, but he couldn’t tell whether that memory was real or something his mind had distorted later.
The only thing he knew for certain was this: the moment he saw a well‑dressed, gentle‑looking man—his brother’s lover—Rowon snapped back to awareness.
He wasn’t sure if “awareness” was the right word. In some ways, it might have been the moment he lost his sanity completely. But when he saw the grief on that man’s face, Rowon understood what he had done.
“He told me to kill him, and I really did.”
“……”
“By the end, I even thought he deserved to die. Honestly… I really did.”
The more he spoke, the stranger his voice became. It sounded like someone being strangled, but even back when the man had actually choked him, his voice hadn’t sounded this twisted. It irritated him—because it made him sound like he was crying, and he hated that. He hadn’t done anything right. He hadn’t explained anything to Baek Seonghyeon. He had simply run away.
“Maybe I wasn’t a good person even before the outbreak. Back then, I could just endure things, pretend to be good, listen to my brother, keep my head down… and then once everything collapsed, maybe my real nature just came out.”
The man quietly watched Rowon’s face. He listened, though the story wasn’t pleasant. He didn’t interrupt. He didn’t show disgust or sympathy. He simply sat beside Rowon on the cold stairs and stayed with him.
“Even if I hadn’t turned into a zombie, maybe from the start I was someone who was bound to kill people. Even what I tried to do to you when we first met—maybe I’m just that kind of person…”
But at that moment, the man slowly reached out and brushed Rowon’s cheek.
“Don’t talk nonsense, you idiot.”
“……!”
“There are people in this world who were rotten from the beginning. But that’s not you.”
Rowon stared blankly at his fingertips. Even considering that his hands had gotten wet while wiping off Rowon’s blood earlier, his fingers were damp—so much so that they trembled.
It was such a common, foolish story. As Young‑il wiped the tear‑soaked cheeks of the young man with his fingertips, that was the only thought that crossed his mind.
In a way, it was almost absurd. One young man lost everything to forgetfulness, and another drowned himself in hatred—and all of it began from something so small, a slight misstep gone terribly wrong.
And in another way, it was unbearably bitter. Under normal circumstances, something that small should never have led to death. Even if a terrible misunderstanding had taken place, even if emotions had twisted and rotted, it shouldn’t have been allowed to fester into something like this.
“……”
The young man stared at him, blank and lost, like an animal that had never learned human speech. Not as metaphor, but as if he truly believed he was a beast. Because of the outbreak, because he was bitten and infected—no, even if all those excuses were stripped away, he still saw himself as nothing more than a creature that killed. A being that had been rotten from the start.
But of course, Young‑il could not accept that belief. To him, everything the young man had confessed sounded like proof of the opposite—that he was painfully, unmistakably human. A person who could be righteous in one moment and cowardly in the next. Just an ordinary, flawed human being.
“All right, let’s say every word you told me is true. Then you killed someone. You had no choice, but at the very end, a part of you believed he deserved to die.”
“……”
“And when the man who loved your brother stood right in front of you, you ran without explaining a single thing. Then you turned into a zombie and lost even the chance to explain. Am I wrong?”
“…No. That… that part is all my fault.”
If Rowon had refused his brother’s plea—if instead of killing him, he had run away—maybe his brother would have survived. Just as Rowon himself had survived after turning. Maybe, by now, the brothers could have reunited.
Of course, it might have been impossible. Escaping a zombie in that moment wouldn’t have been easy, and back then no one knew that the infected could return to normal.
But there was still a second chance. When Baek Seonghyeon—the lover—witnessed everything, if Rowon had managed to explain himself, if he had said even a fraction of what he was saying now, things might have gone differently. Maybe there would’ve been arguments and anger at first, but eventually, the truth could have been understood.
If so, that man might never have twisted the way he did. He might not be hunting Rowon now for revenge. Or at the very least, it wouldn’t have become this catastrophic.
Rowon’s fault was great. His mistake was large, and yes—there had even been a moment of malice in him. But still—
“You might not have been a completely good person. But there aren’t many people in this world who are completely good in the first place.”
“……”
“People can still live on even with a few flaws. If they’re lucky, circumstances give them a chance to do good, and if they start heading down the wrong path, sometimes a precious person steps in and stops them. There are countless people who only managed to be ‘good’ because luck made it possible. But that doesn’t mean they weren’t genuinely good.”
In other words, at least before the zombie outbreak, that was possible. You could hate someone a little, blame others over something trivial, or run away from responsibilities you couldn’t handle. Everyone had a little darkness in them back then, but that small flaw didn’t snowball into tragedies like this.
Even after the outbreak, some people were lucky enough to remain that way. Young‑il himself was one of them. He had been driven into horrible decisions at times when circumstances turned against him. But other times, he had been in a position to do the right thing, or had someone who stopped him from crossing a line. Without those experiences, he might have become something far worse.
Young‑il truly believed that Rowon could have made a better choice too. If his brother had chosen his words a little more carefully… If Rowon had just a bit more luck, enough to talk with Baek Seonghyeon before being bitten… If there had been even a single branch to catch onto while he was falling off that cliff… perhaps the fall wouldn’t have continued endlessly the way it did.
“If things hadn’t happened that way, you might have chosen differently. At least, that’s what I believe.”
“……”
“There’s a reason they say humans are social animals. People like to claim that extreme situations reveal our true nature, but I don’t really buy that. I think a person’s true self shows when they have someone to lean on, someone to rely on. You keep insisting you did what you did because you were rotten from the start… but if someone had been there to support you in that moment, maybe you would have chosen differently.”
Rowon stared at him with an unreadable expression. After crying so much, his eyes were still red and swollen, and his face was far from bright—but at least he seemed calmer than before.
There was also a faint look of disbelief, as though Young‑il’s sudden moral lecture had caught him off guard. Maybe the kid really did just file everything adults said under nagging. And honestly, who wouldn’t, when someone older suddenly sounded like a teacher?
“…You really talk like a moral education instructor.”
“I am a moral education instructor. Got a problem?”
“No, no, I didn’t mean it like that—”
There it was—after everything, that was the response. Feeling a bit annoyed, Young‑il grabbed Rowon’s damp cheek and tugged hard. The young man winced, either from surprise or pain, and his face seemed to flush slightly—or maybe that was just Young‑il’s imagination.
In any case, he was clearly far more composed now, and that alone relieved Young‑il. If Rowon was no longer trapped in panic, then they could finally start thinking about what to do next—even if Young‑il still had no idea what that plan should be.
At least now, he understood everything that had happened between Rowon and Baek Seonghyeon. Of course, this was only Rowon’s side of the story, and it would be difficult to grasp the full truth. But if Rowon’s words were genuine, then Baek Seonghyeon likely didn’t know much either. From his point of view, it would look as if Rowon killed his lover without explanation and then vanished.
Then maybe… if Baek Seonghyeon were told the whole truth, could something change?
That Rowon killed his brother only because he had been bitten by a zombie in the first place.
That Rowon ran away without properly explaining anything because he was also in shock.
If it were explained like that—could the two of them come to understand each other?
‘…No. That’s not happening.’
The answer came surprisingly quickly. It wouldn’t work. They had come too far for things to be solved just by telling each other the truth. Even before logic could weigh in, instinct gave its verdict.
From the beginning, Baek Seonghyeon hadn’t seemed willing to listen to Rowon’s side anyway. What mattered to him wasn’t understanding why Rowon had done what he did—it was releasing the resentment boiling inside him.
Even if he did listen, there was no reason for him to believe Rowon’s words. If he insisted that Rowon was lying, and demanded proof that the brother had been bitten, there would be nothing to show. There was no way to produce evidence now, so there was no chance of convincing him.
That meant nothing about their current course of action would change. They would have to keep running—fleeing further and further, until they reached a place where Rowon’s crimes couldn’t follow.
Until they were beyond the reach of Baek Seonghyeon’s revenge.
It was a grim conclusion, and Young‑il felt a wave of heaviness settle over him. But just then, he became aware of a gaze. Rowon had been watching him with a strange expression for some time.
Maybe the kid had come to the same conclusion?
But if that were the case, he didn’t look particularly down about it. When Young‑il stared back, trying to figure out what that look meant, Rowon spoke up hesitantly.
“Then… I mean, I know it might be shameless to say this but…”
“Hm?”
“Would it be okay if I… relied on you?”
“What are you talking about? Haven’t you been doing that this whole time?”
Just when he wondered what the kid was going to say, he came out with something absurdly bland. Young‑il couldn’t help but chuckle in disbelief. Rowon, clearly not pleased by the reaction, turned his gaze away with a slightly embarrassed look.
“You’re kind of annoying, you know.”
“What now?”
“Just saying.”
“Don’t start saying random stuff all of a sudden… Anyway, you and I are both exhausted today, so let’s just rest here in this taekwondo studio. It looks bright outside now, but evening will fall soon. There’s nothing good about moving around at night.”
Young‑il stood up and glanced toward the window. He didn’t have a watch, so he couldn’t tell the exact time, but there was a faint red tint hanging beyond the sky. In a situation like this without proper flashlights, the biker gang would have a huge advantage once night fell. It was best to stay here overnight and leave in the morning.
“…Alright.”
“Let’s go in. There’s no bedding, but it’s summer, so we’ll manage.”
Helping Rowon to his feet, Young‑il walked with staggering steps into the taekwondo studio. He silently hoped that, at least for tonight, they wouldn’t be attacked by anyone.
As befitting summer, the evening dragged on for quite a while—but eventually, night still fell upon the world.
While there was still some daylight, Rowon and the man searched through the back of the taekwondo studio for anything useful. Of course, they didn’t find anything of value. Given that the doors had been wide open, they had already assumed the place had been thoroughly looted.
No water, no food, not even tools to protect themselves in case of danger. In the end, the two decided to stop wasting energy and simply lie down to rest. Lying in the middle of a dust-covered shock-absorbent mat, they breathed in the heavy, stale air with the windows shut tight.
It wasn’t exactly a comfortable rest. Much like the uncertain future that lay ahead of them.
‘Tonight might be the last night of my life.’
Peace was absurdly short-lived, and the future was so dark it was impossible to see even a step ahead. It would be nice if they could escape safely from the biker gang and Baek Seonghyeon, but Rowon didn’t believe for a second that it would be that easy.
He instinctively sensed it—he might not survive the night. He didn’t know about the man beside him, but for himself, that was the feeling that loomed.
To spend what might be his last night in a place this musty, not even on a proper bed but on a shock mat—there was nothing romantic about it. Rowon quietly lamented that, but at the same time, he was still grateful to have even this. At least right now, the two of them were at peace. It might be a false peace, one that wouldn’t last, but still…