Chapter 123

A crude refueling truck began pumping fuel into the bottom of the helicopter.

Luka had modified an agricultural water truck into a makeshift refueler and was now using it to supply the chopper. Yohan silently watched the process.

“You can’t refuel without the truck?”

“Hard to do. You’ve got to pump fuel upward from the ground.”

“So mid-mission refueling would be tough.”

“Unless we build refueling points—with a refueling truck, a fuel depot, and a helipad to stop at.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Luka wiped his hands on a rag, cleaning off the grease.

“Let’s head out.”

With the loud roar of spinning rotors, the helicopter lifted into the air. That now-familiar sensation of weightlessness enveloped them.

The chopper soared across the western sea and quickly reached Incheon Port. As they approached the harbor, the helicopter gained altitude while Yohan scanned for suitable landing spots through the window.

Drifting ships floated in the nearby waters. The port and logistics centers below were swarming with zombies, crawling about like ant colonies.

“Damn, it’s been a while.”

Luka let out a whistle at the vast expanse of the port. As the largest trade port on the west coast, it was truly enormous.

Warehouses stacked with unsorted containers and goods for import and export lined one side. Logistics centers and factories clustered together.

As soon as the zombies heard the helicopter, they began gathering en masse like they were in a trance. Yohan’s gaze sharpened as he looked down on them.

“Luka, one kilometer southeast—there’s a helipad on a building rooftop. We’ll land there.”

“We’re landing?”

“I’ve got some things to check, and we can’t waste precious fuel.”

“If it’s not going to take long, hovering would use less fuel.”

“Should take about three hours.”

“Touching down it is.”

As the helicopter landed on the helipad, a cloud of dust that had accumulated over the years rose into the air.

Just as Yohan was about to disembark, he noticed zombies drawn by the rotor noise emerging from the emergency stairwell.

“You’ve killed zombies before, right?”

“Hmm? …Yeah, I have.”

“There’s a bunch coming in. Let’s take care of them.”

“Haha.”

“What’s that laugh supposed to mean?”

“Hahaha!”

Luka let out a forced, awkward laugh. Yohan stared at him, unimpressed.

“Don’t tell me… you’ve never killed one?”

“Hey, combat duty was Pio and Berda’s job, alright?”

“Unbelievable.”

In this world, being afraid of a few zombies was a fast track to becoming their lunch. However comfortable Luka’s previous assignments had been, Yohan wasn’t going to tolerate weakness.

“Lucky you.”

“Can’t say I agree with that…”

Yohan kicked open the chopper door and shoved a zombie’s torso with both feet. The one that had gotten closest tumbled helplessly backward.

“Not many people get one-on-one tutoring from me.”

As soon as Yohan cleared a path and stepped down, he swung his machete at the oncoming zombies.

The well-honed blade took down a zombie with each swing. He didn’t seem to be putting much force behind it, yet every one he struck was cleanly sliced down.

After dispatching five zombies, Yohan reached the emergency exit door and took down two more zombies waiting inside, then shut the door. Thud, thud—the zombies outside began pounding on it.

“…?”

Luka looked puzzled. What was he up to now?

Yohan sliced off the arms of the two captured zombies and cut away their jaws and noses.

“Here, deal with them. I’ll watch.”

“You’ve got zero respect for your elders, huh.”

“Have you ever seen a zombie spare someone because they’re older?”

“Alright, alright…”

Luka’s hands trembled slightly. In a way, the disfigured zombies—armless and with half their faces missing—were more terrifying than whole ones. The sight alone was enough to make someone piss themselves.

“I can’t use a gun, right?”

“No. And your stance is all wrong.”

Yohan shoved the encroaching zombies back to give Luka room and tapped his back foot to move it farther behind.

“Keep your weight slightly forward so you don’t get knocked over.”

“Really? I’ve seen others fight differently.”

“That’s because they’ve already reached the point where zombies can’t overpower them. Here it comes.”

Luka swung his knife as hard as he could. It embedded halfway into the zombie’s neck.

“Ugh…”

He tried to pull it out, but the blade was stuck fast. Another zombie began lurching nearby.

“Aaagh!”

Blood dripping from its mouth, the zombie was hurled backward by Yohan. Taking Luka’s knife, Yohan slammed the zombie against the rooftop railing while it was still impaled. Its half-severed neck finally snapped, spraying blood.

Yohan handed the knife back.

“Still too early to go for the neck. Aim for the eyes. One more’s coming.”

Following Yohan’s advice, Luka grabbed the next zombie by the back of the head and stabbed it in the eye. Squish—the sensation was like popping something. Black blood spurted out.

“Nice job. From now on, don’t reach for the neck. Push with your upper arm instead. And always wear protective gear when disembarking.”

“R-right.”

Yohan dragged the zombie corpses aside, crouched down, and began surveying the surroundings with binoculars.

Signs of survivors. Zombie numbers. Layout of the terrain. It was all part of the preliminary reconnaissance for cleanup.

‘If there were any fences or barricades, we could try a zombie herd trap.’

But Incheon Port was practically an open field. With rental apartments nearby, there was no telling how many more zombies could spill out. If they wanted to clear the whole area, it would likely become a long-term operation.

The problem was, even if they did wipe out all the zombies, there was no guarantee more wouldn’t appear. That uncertainty would always linger over the mission.

Yohan took out his notebook and began jotting things down. What he focused on most was the terrain map.

The area was far too large to just go in swinging.

He began marking the key points first: logistics centers, refineries, the container warehouses sorted by size—any location they couldn’t afford to overlook.

After nearly an hour surveying the area from the rooftop, Yohan called out to Luka, who was leaning against the helicopter with his arms crossed.

“Getting hungry. Let’s eat before we continue.”

“…Here?”

“Or do you want to go downstairs?”

Luka’s face turned pale. With zombie corpses and blood splattered right behind them, how could anyone eat here?

But Yohan paid his discomfort no mind. He simply opened the lunchbox Ji-hye had packed and began shoveling food into his mouth.

Screw it.

Luka gave up trying to resist and reluctantly picked up his spoon.

“Mind if I ask a personal question?”

“Ask away.”

The silence, filled only by the howling of zombies and clinking of spoons, was broken as Yohan asked,

“Did you get your helicopter pilot license from the Coast Guard headquarters?”

“No, I was trained and served as a cadet at NOP in Oslo.”

“Oh, overseas.”

“Yup. I’ve been around. Got hired in Korea later as a mid-career transfer. You know how Korea loves experienced hires.”

Yohan didn’t know what NOP was, but just getting certified to fly helicopters overseas sounded like a solid career.

“So how did a guy with a résumé like that end up as Rina’s personal chauffeur? How’d you two meet?”

“Hmm, more than Rina, I had deeper ties with her father—the chairman.”

“The chairman?”

“Yeah, as you might’ve guessed, the lady’s from one of Europe’s top ten conglomerate families. The company’s headquartered in Oslo.”

“And the daughter of such a powerful family chose to become a nun?”

“Because of her prophetic dreams. She used to tell people about them as a child, but most thought she was crazy. ‘Possessed,’ some would say. That, plus some internal family rivalries.”

Sounds plausible, Yohan nodded.

“The first prophetic dream she had was when her mother died. Remember the Odaeyang Airlines crash?”

Yohan strained to recall. It was a long time ago, but he vaguely remembered a major plane crash making headlines as a kid.

“Her mom was in first class on that flight. At the airport, Rina had a breakdown, crying and screaming that her mother was going to die.”

Yohan listened silently.

“In the end, her mother died on the way back to Oslo. After that, Rina would have these terrifying dreams about three times a year. But people… people are fickle. When they hear a warning, they deny it—and treat the messenger like a curse.”

“That’s a typical response. So that’s why she became a nun?”

“Exactly. Cloaked her visions as divine revelations. Faith makes people believe the unbelievable.”

So she didn’t become a nun and then start dreaming. She became a nun so people would believe her dreams. Pretty crafty.

“Anyway, enough about the lady. Feels weird gossiping behind her back. Not like it’s a secret, though. If you asked, she’d probably tell you herself.”

Yohan nodded. His lunchbox, packed by Ji-hye, was nearly clean.

“What about your family, Luka?”

“They’re dead. An accident. The price of not believing Rina’s warnings.”

Yohan’s hand froze mid-bite. Luka wore a look of longing, of distant recollection.

Like many of those fickle people, Luka hadn’t believed her at first either. He’d grumbled behind her back about her bad-luck prophecies.

Only after losing his beloved wife and daughter did he resent her.

‘Why… why didn’t you stop me more forcefully?’

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, mister…’

Though he knew it was unfair, grief demanded someone to blame. And she—perhaps out of guilt—had willingly become the target of that blame.

Or maybe she truly did feel responsible for not stopping him.

“Sorry to bring up something painful.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s been a long time.”

“What about Pio and Berda? Are their stories similar?”

“No, those three are childhood friends. The chairman adopted the two from an orphanage. They grew up together and were trained like special agents. They think it’s their duty to protect Rina.”

Yohan briefly wondered what Rina’s family was doing now—but decided not to ask. There would be time to hear it from her directly one day.

“Feels like we’ve gotten closer, young friend.”

“Yeah. Thanks for answering.”

Yohan went back to sketching out the map, while Luka whistled and leaned back in the cockpit.

An hour later, the two returned to Sindo.

* * *

A few days had passed since the preliminary scouting.

Yohan spent the remaining time before deployment recuperating and sharpening his condition.

His method of choice: reading. Sitting in the lakeside pavilion from early morning, listening to the sounds of water and reading books, was the best therapy for his mind.

Engrossed in a book, he eventually sensed a presence approaching from a distance.

“What are you reading so hard, oppa? Doesn’t suit you.”

Seri leaned in and checked the cover. The title read I Want to Eat Your Pancreas by Sumino Yoru.

“…I know it’s not actually about that, but still, the title feels kind of creepy in hindsight.”

Yohan smiled faintly and closed the book. The moment he did, his nerves flared. A sharp, prickling sensation crept over him. He quickly scanned the surroundings.

What is this?

The shark was dead. He had seen the mangled, shredded remains himself. So what was this feeling?

It wasn’t like the overt killing intent of past threats. This felt distant—like some overwhelming danger slowly tightening around him from afar. Yet he had no idea what it could be.

Suddenly, Yohan bolted upright and sprinted toward Rina.

“Huh? Oppa? Oppa!”

Seri called out, but her voice didn’t register. He had to find the source of this dread.

At full speed, he reached the area near the church—just in time to see Rina and Berda rushing out of the entrance.

Something was happening. Something serious.

They had apparently been about to come find him, and as soon as they spotted him, they sprinted over.

“Huff, huff… Yohan…”

“Yeah. What is it?”

What she said next shattered his mental defenses in an instant.

“The power plant… I think the nuclear power plant is about to explode.”

The apocalypse had just declared checkmate.

(T/N: Damn! Couldn’t take a break, huh?)