Destruction — Chapter 22

“…What?”

Shocked, Saejin dropped his spoon. Athletic, good at fighting, built like a tank—and now, he could cook, too? It was kind of unfair.

“Is there anything you can’t do?”

Woobeom simply shook his head at the unnecessary compliment and brushed it off. Feeling a little slighted, Saejin chewed on another spoonful before muttering to himself.

‘Well, with a personality like that, I guess the universe really is fair.’

When Woobeom got frustrated or things didn’t go his way, he had a tendency to curse—something that Saejin mentally filed away as a character flaw to balance out his perfection. Seeking a distraction, Saejin pointed toward the TV nearby.

“Hey, does that thing work?”

Woobeom gave a small nod and turned it on. The news came up immediately, but no matter the channel, the screen displayed the same content.

Staring at the screen while eating, Saejin let out a long sigh at the unchanged, worsening situation. Even the anchor delivering the news looked like they’d given up, their expression dark as they recited grim updates to the public.

Apparently, the roadblock measures had collapsed in less than an hour. There were several reasons: infected individuals had infiltrated military units deployed across the country, and whole squads were wiped out during the lockdown operations. Numerous soldiers were killed, and even reports of desertions had emerged.

Just when Saejin thought things couldn’t get worse, another update came that left him stunned.

• Infected individuals in the incubation period have stolen weapons from fallen soldiers and have been seen threatening civilians with guns. The government says it is reviewing ways to crack down on these acts of looting.

“Infected… with guns?”

It wasn’t just the infected looting police stations for weapons—now they had military-grade firearms. Things couldn’t be worse. With more armed groups committing crimes and no authority left to stop them, Korea was becoming a lawless wasteland.

• Current reports indicate 3,900 military casualties and over 5,000 lost firearms. In response, the Ministry of National Defense is proposing deploying armed forces to cities for civilian safety, and authorizing immediate execution of unauthorized armed individuals. Public opinion remains divided…

“Immediate execution…”

The fact that he was hearing such a term in South Korea was utterly surreal. As Saejin stared at the screen in disbelief, he looked down at his now-empty bowl and set the spoon aside reluctantly. The next headline, about mass desertions, caught his eye.

‘Honestly… can you blame them?’

They must’ve been worried about their families. With monsters everywhere, it made sense they’d fear for their lives. Especially soldiers deployed to enforce the roadblock—many had likely watched their comrades die right beside them. Saejin could understand why some chose not to return to base.

“Hyung, I have something I want to say.”

“What is it?”

Woobeom turned from the TV at Saejin’s call.

“Could you… teach me how to fight?”

“…Fight?”

Woobeom raised an eyebrow as if he’d just heard the most ridiculous thing in the world, tilting his head with a skeptical expression.

“Of course, I don’t mean right now. I can barely walk, let alone do anything physical…”

Fingering the glass of water on the table, Saejin rubbed the moisture off his fingertips and began to quietly confess just how powerless he felt.

“So once I’m healed… please teach me how to fight. If I’d known how back at the rest stop… Director-nim might not have ended up like that. And I probably wouldn’t have gotten hurt either. I don’t want to have regrets like that again.”

Watching Saejin’s firm resolve, Woobeom tapped the corner of the table with his index finger, as if organizing his thoughts. Tap. Tap. Each time his finger fell against the wood, Saejin’s heart tightened with anticipation.

“If you learn from me, you’ll probably want to run away.”

“No! I’m serious. I’ve got the will, and I know I can do it!”

“Really?”

“Of course. I really mean it.”

“…Hmm. The guys I used to train were all at least fifty kilos heavier than you. And even they cried their eyes out.”

Saejin flinched at the thought. How tough could it have been for him to say something like that? But maybe scaring him off was Woobeom’s intention. Saejin clung on even more determinedly, swearing he wouldn’t give up. Woobeom’s lips curled slightly at the memory. Before being promoted to an executive, he’d been a manager—one who had trained plenty of low-level thugs.

Fighting wasn’t about flailing your limbs around. Having a bulky build didn’t automatically give you the upper hand, either. Sure, size mattered to some degree, but if your stamina and muscular endurance surpassed your opponent’s, you could overcome even significant physical disadvantages. Woobeom had known that well. So the first thing he did to the punks who strutted in wanting to play gangster was beat the crap out of them with conditioning drills.

The grueling training weeded out half the recruits. One cocky bastard even challenged Woobeom to a fight, claiming he didn’t need any of it. Most of them only settled down after getting their asses handed to them. Only those who survived that stage were accepted as full-fledged members.

Of course, he had no intention of turning Saejin into a gangster. He wouldn’t push him that hard. Still, he couldn’t help but worry—the kid looked like he’d never lifted anything heavier than a textbook. Compared to the rough thugs he was used to, the soft and innocent-looking Saejin felt more like a baby. Was it really okay to teach someone like him how to fight? Woobeom rubbed at his aching forehead, frustrated by the stupid question forming in his own mind.

“One month. I’ll start teaching you then. Until then, just focus on healing that busted stomach of yours.”

“Yes! Thank you!”

Oblivious to Woobeom’s internal monologue, Saejin beamed and began to stand to clear the dishes. Since Woobeom had cooked, he figured he should at least do the cleaning. But as soon as he reached for an empty plate, Woobeom stopped him.

“You can’t even stand properly. Just leave it. I’ll clean up.”

“Oh my god… Hyung…!”

Saejin’s eyes sparkled with gratitude. With a soft “thank you,” he waddled over to the living room sofa. Despite being called a villa, the place felt more like a regular home. If he didn’t consciously think about it, he could almost forget he was in the mountains.

‘He must’ve gone through hell to bring me here.’

Woobeom never made a fuss about anything, so Saejin had no idea how long the journey took—but it couldn’t have been easy. Leaning back against the sofa, Saejin glanced at Woobeom as he cleaned up. His broad, sturdy back radiated a quiet strength. He’d carried Saejin up the mountain, for god’s sake. Picked him up and moved like it was nothing. Looking down at his own flimsy arms, Saejin sighed in envy.

‘If I start training in a month, maybe I’ll build some muscle too?’

He tried to listen to the continuing news broadcast.

‘Why do viruses like this even exist?’

With the future looking hopeless, Saejin turned his attention back to the anchor on the screen, who was now talking about the incubation period of the virus. Apparently, it took about a month to fully take over the human body.

• The new virus has a four-week incubation period. After that, it begins attacking and destroying the brain. We’ve also learned that the body’s first and second line immune cells fail to detect the virus—suggesting it may not be a naturally occurring pathogen, but one engineered to bypass the immune system…

The report offered speculation that the virus had been artificially developed, but nothing was confirmed.

A month-long incubation…

The number pierced straight through Saejin’s chest. If that was true, Director-nim only had a month left. Was she still at the rest stop, all alone? Guilt and sorrow welled up as he swallowed down a dry lump in his throat. It stung. His nose burned, and his eyes grew hot. He was about to cry again.

“Hyung… can I get some fresh air for a minute?”

“Go ahead.”

Woobeom didn’t even turn around as he cleaned up the kitchen. Saejin didn’t want him to see his tears, so he forced himself to stand, only for the sharp pain in his side to make everything worse.

The moment he opened the front door, a freezing wind rushed to greet him. It was so cold the moisture under his eyes felt like it might freeze. Hugging his arms tightly, he shuffled forward, kicking at the ground with his sneakers. The sky above was painfully clear.

Why is it so sunny when I feel this miserable?

Saejin scratched at the dry earth with his shoe. Then he turned around and looked at the villa from a distance.

This isn’t like a fancy vacation home… it’s just a regular house.

He’d expected something grand, but it looked more like a standalone suburban home, complete with a well-kept lawn. If it weren’t for the forest in the background, you could easily mistake it for being in the middle of a city.

When his breath turned to visible mist, he sat beneath a small tree. The exposed limbs on his body caught the winter wind and trembled. Goosebumps shot up his arms.

Director-nim…

Saejin pictured her face quietly. His eyes, dry from the cold, didn’t shed tears. Crying might’ve brought him some closure, but the pain in his chest was deep and lingering—almost like something invisible was crushing him from within.

When he tried to hug his knees, pain shot through his gut. He clenched his jaw and sat still instead. That’s when a shadow fell over him.

“You’re crying again.”

“…I’m not.”

Woobeom, with a cigarette in his mouth, tossed a blanket onto Saejin’s lap.

“If you’re gonna mope out here, at least stay warm.”

“What’s this…?”

Saejin looked up to see a necklace dangling in front of him. Woobeom handed it over just as Saejin wrapped the blanket around himself.

“The old lady wanted you to have it.”

“…Oh.”

“Crying again?”

“I said I’m not.”

He answered confidently—but his eyes betrayed him. Heat rose again, and a tear rolled down his cheek before he could stop it. Woobeom didn’t say anything. He just watched silently as Saejin wiped his tears and took a long drag of his cigarette.

The smoke curled in the cold air, obscuring Saejin’s figure from view.

“…Yeah.”

Woobeom, who had spoken in a low voice, exhaled another puff of smoke and waited silently for Saejin’s tears to stop. Once he’d finished the cigarette, he tucked the spent butt into a portable ashtray and motioned with his chin for Saejin to head back inside.

“I was going to go in anyway. But could you help me with this first?”

Saejin handed over the loosened necklace and turned his back to Woobeom. The smooth line of his nape came into Woobeom’s view.

“…Hyung, just how many cigarettes do you smoke in a day?”

“What do you care?”

“I’m worried you might die young. You’re at the age where you should start taking care of your health…”

“Don’t get cheeky again.”