Chapter 61

The next day, the search party slept as if they were dead. Aside from eating and checking on Hajin’s condition, Yohan focused entirely on recovering his physical state. On the third day, Yohan finally got up.

And the fact that Yohan had risen meant one thing:

“Get up, let’s get to work!”

It signified the start of labor.

“Ugh, someone take this workaholic away…”

“Agreed.”

“Ah! You startled me! When did you get in here?”

As Seri muttered while sluggishly rising from her bed, Sweeper, who had somehow snuck into a corner, suddenly sat up and added his comment.

“Oh, sorry, miss. There wasn’t anywhere else suitable to sleep.”

“Well, the living room is spacious enough… but fine, whatever. Speaking of which, can’t you change how you address me?”

“Then… ‘Noona’?”

“That feels a bit sleazy.”

“Wow, harsh…”

Yohan’s nagging echoed from outside, urging them to stop dawdling and come out. His unnecessary enthusiasm left them speechless.

Still, most people gathered in the living room without much grumbling at Yohan’s call. Their faces bore a hollow expression, as if the battle from a few days ago had been nothing more than a dream.

In truth, it was a fight that felt surreal.

Grief and mourning for the dead, relief for having survived, and the vivid memories of fear and physical exhaustion—all of it felt like waking from a dream.

“We’re moving supplies and ammunition to the new shelter. We’ll likely have to go back and forth several times, so if we want to finish before sunset, we need to hustle. Sweeper, Jung-eun, and Jae-ho will stay here to guard the shelter. Everyone else, follow me.”

Yohan’s instructions were clear, and the team moved with precision. The distance from Kkachiuul to Sangdong was drivable, albeit along the sidewalk and shoulder rather than proper roads.

The new shelter was a detached house similar to the old one, but it was larger and more spacious.

It was unfortunate that, unlike Kkachiuul, it lacked a wall enclosing the village. Nevertheless, it was ideal for housing the twenty or so people in their group.

More importantly, the women cheered upon hearing they wouldn’t have to share open spaces with the men anymore.

“We’ll use the fourth floor as an armory and a makeshift supply depot, and the basement will be converted into the main storage and emergency shelter. Four people on both the third and fourth floors. The girls will take room 301.”

Everyone nodded at Yohan’s instructions, but someone raised a question.

“What about the first and second floors?”

“The first floor will be a communal area. Room 201 is for newcomers we’ll take in later.”

“What about room 202?”

“That’s my room.”

“…”

His firm reply left the questioner silent.

The more comfortable living space lifted everyone’s spirits. Just a few months—or even weeks—ago, they would have been overjoyed with just food and safety.

A comfortable haven had never even crossed their minds. To them, this new shelter was a luxury bordering on indulgence.

Mourning for the departed was brief. It had to be.

After enduring six months of the apocalypse, they had grown desensitized. The more they lost, the more they pretended to be cheerful—it had become second nature.

After several trips back and forth, most of the moving was complete. Yohan split the group into two, stationing people at both the new and old shelters since the power transfer construction wasn’t finished yet.

At dusk, as they returned from the last round of moving, Yohan was met with long-awaited good news.

“Yohan, Hajin’s awake.”

“Ah…!”

Yohan quickly ran to where Hajin was lying. Hajin was propped up halfway in bed, his pale complexion barely improving.

He was alive. Stubborn as ever. Around his bed were scattered IV packs, nutritional supplements, and vitamins.

“How are you feeling?”

“I saw my late parents.”

“…Oh, really?”

“They seemed to be doing well.”

At the tasteless joke, Yohan chuckled softly. Judging by Hajin’s condition, he wouldn’t die—at least not anytime soon.

Looking at his missing left arm, Yohan was overcome with guilt. The responsibility for the dead and the injured weighed heavily on him. He had made the decisions and carried them out.

“It’ll be inconvenient for a while as you adapt.”

Yohan’s voice carried a note of regret. Hajin shrugged and replied.

“It’s fine. I’ve just returned from heralding a new era.”

“…What?”

What was he talking about now?

“What, don’t you know ‘One Piece’? It’s a line from your manga collection at home. Red-Haired Shanks said it to Whitebeard after losing his arm.”

“I know that. It’s just so absurd that I’m speechless. Why are you suddenly into this nerdy stuff?”

“It’s the first manga I’ve read since elementary school, and it’s fun.”

“Sure, it’s fun, but how can you crack jokes right now?”

“Sweeper took it well earlier.”

Yohan’s expression twisted.

Could it be that such a severe injury had mentally affected him as well?

Not to mention, with his appearance, cosplaying Shanks was out of the question. Maybe Whitebeard or Blackbeard would suit him better. At least Shanks was good-looking.

“Anyway, I really thought I’d die this time. Ever since I met you, every day feels like walking through a thorn bush.”

There was a subtle sting to his words, though they weren’t meant maliciously. Hajin had proven to be one of Yohan’s most dependable allies.

The guilt weighed heavier. Yohan spoke sincerely.

“I’m sorry for dragging you into such dangerous situations.”

“Why are you taking it so seriously? I would’ve died long ago if it weren’t for you. And honestly, is there any place safe in this world anymore?”

“…”

“Don’t worry about me. I genuinely respect you as a person. I think you’re amazing. I don’t know how much you trust me, but I plan to keep following you. Though, with this arm, I’m not sure how helpful I’ll be.”

The mix of guilt, responsibility, and Hajin’s forced brightness was overwhelming. Even the cheesy, heartfelt lines felt burdensome.

Just as Yohan was about to say something, Sweeper and Seri barged into the room, throwing open the door.

Seri was holding a round railing handle, while a straw hat was perched on Sweeper’s head. With an expression as if plotting some wicked scheme, Yohan’s face contorted in an instant.

Where did they even get that from?

“My Conqueror’s Haki—”

“Get out, you idiots.”

“…”

“Are you not leaving right now?”

Yohan glared, and Sweeper shook his head in refusal. Seri added,

“Captain doesn’t understand adventure and romance.”

“Exactly. Doesn’t get it.”

Yohan silently pressed the transmit button on the radio.

“Everyone, come down and throw these pirate kings into the lake at Sangdong.”

The two were soon dragged out by Jeonghwan and his group, whining. Yohan rubbed his aching temples. Every time he told them to rest, they just clung to their comic books.

Knock, knock. The door was tapped lightly. There was only one person in the shelter who would knock so politely.

“Come in, Doctor.”

“Ah, Yohan. Actually, it’s about Hajin’s prosthetic.”

Dr. Park Jae-beom entered the room and pulled up a chair. He handed over a sheet of paper with various prosthetic arm models drawn on it and emphasized the necessity of providing Hajin with a prosthetic arm.

“With the current condition, maintaining balance will be difficult, and life will be uncomfortable. If you go to the hospital’s rehabilitation department, you’ll find versatile prosthetics. If you pick one, I can help you fit it. Function-oriented ones look better, but for practical use, the hook-type prosthetic would be better.”

Hajin, who had been quietly listening, shook his head.

“I don’t care about practicality. Please, give me a weapon for fighting.”

Dr. Park hesitated. Adding blades to a prosthetic was dangerous, and no mass-produced prosthetics could function as weapons.

“That’s… dangerous, and it would be uncomfortable too.”

“It’s fine. I can handle it.”

Yohan, who had been listening, intervened. He was also concerned about Hajin’s reduced combat capabilities. Fighting with one hand was a disadvantage for both the team and Hajin.

“Mr. Kim makes things like that. You can ask him to modify an existing prosthetic. If you need anything, I’ll get it for you.”

“Still…”

Dr. Park looked uncomfortable, but seeing the determined expressions of the two men, he reluctantly nodded.

“Alright. I’ll talk to Mr. Kim. But for now, you shouldn’t engage in strenuous activity. The sutured blood vessels could rupture. It’s best if you go to the hospital for aftercare.”

“Got it. I was planning on resting for a while anyway. You should also take it easy.”

“Thanks.”

Yohan patted Hajin’s shoulder a few times and returned to his own room.

He filled the bathtub with warm water and sank into it. The drowsy feeling that followed melted away his fatigue. Yet, amidst the relaxation, his mind was racing with plans for the future.

The most important thing was creating a safe zone and expanding the search team.

There was no time to waste—he had to start immediately the next day.

It felt like the beginning of something new, even though the major tasks had been completed. It was like finishing one chapter of a story and opening a new one.

There had been many challenges, but he had managed well. He had built a trustworthy team and established a solid foundation. They had enough food and equipment. Even before the regression, he had never created such a stable organization.

The three years of experience and failure had become the bedrock of Yohan’s growth.

After about half an hour, Yohan finished his bath. Water droplets fell from his well-trained body as he stood up.

His reflection in the mirror showed a body covered in small muscles, along with recent wounds and the bite mark on his shoulder. The wound from the mutated creature’s teeth had started forming a scab, but it was clear that without proper disinfection or treatment, it would likely scar.

This wound was proof of his immune system’s potential.

Yohan kept the fact that he had been bitten—and yet hadn’t gotten infected—hidden. The new information was not something he could easily share with his teammates. He wasn’t certain, and there wasn’t enough information.

Giving people false hope that they might not be infected could lead to a far more dangerous and harsh outcome than simply assuming they would be.

The thought that someone might not get infected after being bitten would prevent others from abandoning their comrades. They would hold on to hope, and in a crisis, people would likely keep infected companions close, no matter the risk.

Ultimately, people bitten by zombies would become a burden. Apologies for the expression, but they would become ticking time bombs, leading to more sacrifices.

For now, until he was more certain, Yohan decided it was best to carry this burden alone.

After finishing his bath, he went up to the rooftop. After sending Jae-ho down, he sat in a camp chair and gazed blankly at the dark city.

The landscape, which had seemed dreary during the day, took on a strangely emotional beauty as night fell. Seven months had passed since the apocalypse began.

For the first time in seven months, he could see a few stars in the Seoul sky. He couldn’t tell if they were stars or satellites, but with more time, they would become clearer.

A warm summer night breeze brushed his face, and the familiar, foul smell of decay reminded him that life was still very much alive.