Destruction — Chapter 13
by Brie“I’ll go tell my hyung real quick.”
“Sure. There’s plenty of room, so let him know he’s welcome too.”
“Hyung!”
Saejin ran over to Woobeom, who was scouting the area. Whatever conversation he’d had had clearly lifted his mood—he was practically bouncing.
“Hyung, the director has a car. He said he can take us to Suwon. Should we go with him?”
It was an unexpected offer. There was no real reason to turn it down—just nodding would’ve sufficed—but for some reason, Woobeom hesitated. He still couldn’t place why the director’s face seemed familiar.
‘Well, we have to leave before the roads are closed… guess there’s no choice.’
Passing up the opportunity over some vague discomfort wasn’t worth the risk, not with the roadblocks coming. When Woobeom nodded, Saejin cheerfully grabbed his arm and led him back.
Before getting into the car, the director said there was someone he wanted them to meet, and led them into the building. His current shelter was a clothing store with an underground parking lot.
“There’s a kid who came with me on the trip.”
“A kid?”
Walking beside the director, Saejin was surprised to hear he had a “kid” with him, but quickly composed his expression. The director was a cautious man—it seemed unlikely he’d bring a child into this situation. Saejin assumed he meant a young assistant teacher, using “kid” as a nickname.
His guess wasn’t wrong. When they arrived, two men were sitting inside—both clearly too old to be called children. One looked to be in his late twenties, the other in his early thirties.
“Hello.”
“Ah, uh… hello…”
The two men exchanged awkward glances, clearly unsure how to respond to the sudden introduction. The director explained that Saejin was a former student from the orphanage and mentioned they’d be dropping him off in Suwon. It was something the director had decided on his own, and the men looked slightly uneasy, but didn’t object since Suwon was along their route.
Introductions were brief. The man in his thirties was named Choi Daeseok, and the one in his twenties was Go Jeongju. Both worked at the orphanage as assistant teachers.
“I’m Yoon Saejin, and this is my hyung, Jeong Woobeom!”
Since Woobeom remained aloof and silent, Saejin introduced him instead.
“If we hadn’t run into each other here, you would’ve had a rough time.”
The director clapped Saejin on the shoulder and said it was incredibly lucky. Saejin blinked in confusion, not understanding what he meant, so the director added a bit more context.
“Some nasty people have been roaming the roads here, collecting car keys. They also smashed up all the shared scooters and bikes so no one could use them.”
“They were collecting car keys?”
So that’s why they hadn’t found a single one, even though there were abandoned cars everywhere. It had all been deliberate. Saejin felt a wave of futility.
“Why would anyone do something like that…”
“They probably didn’t want other survivors escaping.”
Go Jeongju shrugged like it was the most obvious thing in the world. That explained why there hadn’t been any infected near the station—whoever did this must’ve eliminated all the ways out before moving to the next zone.
‘This is seriously messed up.’
People say you lose your mind when pushed to the edge, but this was way beyond that. They weren’t people anymore—they were animals.
“When are you planning to head out?”
Woobeom, who had been silent until now, nodded toward the clock on the store wall, suggesting they should leave as soon as possible.
“We should go now. We saw the news about the road closures too.”
Choi Daeseok began gathering the luggage he had left on the floor, while Go Jeongju jerked his chin toward the outside. The store had a large glass wall that gave a clear view of the street. It also made it easy to monitor the news broadcast on the digital billboard.
Choi Daeseok said he’d go load the luggage into the trunk and stepped out. They could have all gone together, but he seemed to have something else to do. Saejin nodded without much thought, then turned to catch up with the director and continue their long-overdue chat.
“How are the kids doing?”
“Well… it’s hard to say they’re doing fine.”
“What? Did something happen?”
Saejin had expected an automatic “they’re doing well,” but even as a white lie, the director couldn’t say that. It sounded like something serious had happened—something he wasn’t ready to talk about easily.
“Is it something like canceled adoptions or financial problems?”
There were times when adopted children were returned. It was never the child’s fault, but sometimes bad rumors about the orphanage would spread, and support would get cut off. Without corporate sponsorship, it was nearly impossible to keep the orphanage running on just the government’s subsidy. Saejin, well aware of this, asked with a furrowed brow. The director shook his head.
“Adoptions have actually been going quite well.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?”
“…It is, but. No, talking about this will only bring unnecessary worry.”
The director shook his head, trying to wrap up the conversation. In truth, the adoptions couldn’t really be considered a source of concern—at least on the surface, the children were being sent to good homes.
A year ago, after a deputy director was dispatched to the orphanage, something began to change. For some reason, there were suddenly frequent inquiries about adopting children, most of them from abroad. At first, the director was hesitant—sending the kids so far away didn’t sit right—but after meeting the prospective adoptive parents, he began to feel differently. They were all gentle, warm people with stable jobs.
‘I sent them off trusting in that…’
But then, the children’s messages started becoming less frequent, until eventually they stopped entirely. He told himself they were probably just adjusting to their new lives abroad and tried reaching out again a few months later—but every attempt ended in failure. The adoptive parents would only send a few photos of the kids playing, never adding any comments about how they were doing.
‘Of course, if they’re doing well, that’s all that matters…’
But after twenty years as director, this was something he’d never experienced before, and it gnawed at him. He couldn’t forget the faces of those kids, smiling so brightly, promising to keep in touch before they left.
Listening quietly, Woobeom turned his gaze toward the anxious-looking director and raised an eyebrow meaningfully.
“Let’s head out now.”
With that, Go Jeongju clapped his hands and said it was about time to head down.
The group made their way down to the underground parking lot and approached the vehicle with its engine already running. Saejin had briefly worried that it might be too cramped with five people riding, but it turned out the vehicle the director had brought was a seven-seater van. The vehicle’s size made him a little uneasy about whether it could maneuver easily through the chaotic roads, but on the other hand, it might be able to simply push past obstacles with sheer force.
Choi Daeseok took the driver’s seat, and Go Jeongju sat in the passenger seat, leaving the remaining three to head for the back seats.
“I think I’ll try to get some rest…”
The director, raising the corners of his mouth sheepishly as he admitted he didn’t have the stamina of a young man anymore, laid down on the rearmost seat. That left the middle row for Saejin and Woobeom, but no matter how long Saejin waited, Woobeom didn’t seem inclined to get in.
“Hyung, aren’t you getting in?”
Leaning his head out the rolled-down window, Saejin called out. Woobeom was standing near the rear tire of the van, fiddling with something and even sniffing his fingers.
‘Was he just… smiling?’
Having taken off his mask inside, his expression was completely visible. His lips were slightly twisted in what looked faintly like a smirk—but it resembled a warped sneer more than anything, making Saejin narrow his eyes.
‘What the hell is he looking at?’
Curious, Saejin stuck his head out further.
“Get back in.”
Woobeom came over, pushed Saejin’s forehead to shove him back inside, then opened the car door.
“What were you doing?”
“Nothing.”
He said “nothing” with conviction, but Saejin had clearly seen him inspecting something. Still narrowing his eyes with suspicion, he watched Woobeom avoid his gaze and never answer the question. It definitely looked like he had found something and sniffed it, but Woobeom’s fingers were clean.
“We’re heading out.”
Just as curt as Woobeom, Choi Daeseok stepped on the gas after confirming everyone was on board. The monsters that had started following the sound of the engine soon fell behind as the van picked up speed. Thankfully, this meant they didn’t hit anything, and the ride was fairly smooth.
“Saejin, do you happen to have any water?”
While they were driving, the director—half-asleep in the back—managed to collect himself and pulled out a small pill bottle.
“Oh, yes. Here you go.”
“Thank you.”
Saejin rummaged through his bag and handed over his tumbler, eyeing the pill in the director’s hand. The director downed the tiny white pill—about the size of a pinky nail—with water, then sat up properly and buckled his seatbelt. Clearly, lying down would be risky if they ended up crashing into a monster.
“Are you sick?”
“No, nothing like that… The deputy director gave me these vitamins and told me to take care of my health. It’s become a habit—I can’t sleep without them now.”
“Huh? We have a deputy director now?”
It wasn’t odd that Saejin didn’t recognize the new assistant teachers—those changed often. But in the 14 years he had lived in the orphanage, there had never been a deputy director, so the mention of one felt unfamiliar. If something that unusual had happened, it must mean the director was truly too old to handle things on his own. That realization stung.
“Yes, well… I’ve gotten on in years. It’s about time I retired.”
Seeing his graying hair and the deep lines under his eyes brought a dull ache to Saejin’s chest. The thought of no longer seeing the director who had raised him at the orphanage was hard to swallow.
“Those two are teachers the deputy director brought in.”
The director whispered, careful not to distract the driver. Saejin nodded and glanced toward the front seat, then quickly turned back and sat properly to buckle his belt as the van started to jostle more.
‘There’s a lot to feel uneasy about today…’