Chapter 77
Yohan locked eyes with Kim Seol-hwa. Her mouth was smeared with white residue—perhaps from a seizure, foaming at the mouth, or simply from her desperate struggle to remove the gag.
She trembled violently as she looked at him. Her body and mind were both in shambles, yet even with her vacant, dead eyes, she never stopped staring back at him.
Her mental fortitude was astounding. Beyond remarkable—it was frightening. An average person would have broken down completely by now, incapable of holding a coherent conversation.
How had she endured those 40 hours? Most likely by imagining gruesome revenge—tearing him apart, smashing his skull, dismembering his limbs. Clinging to the thought of retribution had likely kept her sane.
“…What the hell are you?”
Despite her condition, her voice remained steady. Yohan leaned in close, speaking slowly.
“You will never leave this place. Your body will rot away, your flesh will decay, and rats will feast on your corpse. The only choice you have left is peace. Cooperate, and I’ll grant you a painless death.”
“…What do you want?”
“The current number of Seoul Survival Union members. The names of the officers. How many of you came here. Your base locations. Your armament status. Your communication methods. Any operations you have planned. Every bit of information you possess.”
In other words, she was to spill everything she knew before dying. A painless death was the only mercy Yohan was willing to offer.
This was all from a past timeline. She had not wronged him in this life, yet he still held her accountable.
And Yohan had chosen vengeance without hesitation. If he had to face her a hundred times in a hundred regressions, he would kill her a hundred times over.
His emotionless gaze made her lips part in silent shock. He could almost hear the gears in her head turning.
“…Spare me. I’ll tell you everything if you promise to let me live.”
Yohan straightened up.
“Wait, wait—”
Her words were cut off as the gag was forced back into her mouth, and darkness swallowed her once again.
—
The door creaked open, slicing through the darkness like a thin, jagged blade of light before vanishing with the sound of scraping metal.
Sweeper stepped inside, wrinkling his nose in disgust.
The flicker of a Zippo lighter ignited, casting a small flame that illuminated the pitch-black room.
“God, that’s nasty.”
He shook his head at Kim Seol-hwa’s pitiful state. He had always known his captain could be ruthless, but this was on another level.
This wasn’t just harsh—it was downright inhumane. Torture would have been more merciful.
The stench alone made it unbearable. Sweeper pinched his nose as he removed her gag and the sack covering her face. Her dull, unfocused eyes slowly regained some clarity.
Shame and agony were etched into her haggard features.
“…Kill me.”
“I’d love to.”
Yohan had completely deprived her of everything—food, water, even the ability to relieve herself. Every second, every minute had been used to break her.
Watching, Sweeper realized something—Yohan’s actions weren’t driven by morality. He saw the world in simple terms: allies and enemies. And when it came to enemies, he had no qualms about becoming a monster himself.
For the first time, Sweeper felt a flicker of fear toward his leader.
‘He wasn’t this extreme before meeting her.’
This level of brutality worried him. Being indecisive or too soft could be dangerous, but this level of cold-bloodedness could turn into something worse.
One day, this ruthlessness would come back to bite him. If only he had a bit of Hyuk’s temperament to balance it out.
‘We need to let Hyuk take the lead more.’
Sweeper could see it clearly. Yohan cared about Hyuk. Anyone could tell. The fact that he was willing to risk himself to rescue Hyuk’s comrade showed as much.
He claimed it was for revenge and eliminating threats, but Sweeper knew better—this was about saving Hyuk.
Hyuk had to be the one to rein Yohan in. If this war with the Seoul Survival Union dragged on, and if others saw this side of him, he might end up completely alone.
Sweeper brought a cup of water to Kim Seol-hwa’s lips. She swallowed greedily, the sound of her gulping echoing loudly in the silent room.
“Listen up. The boss has no intention of letting you go. He’s going to kill you. You might not even get a chance to speak before he does.”
Sweeper’s voice was calm, deliberate.
“But I’m different. I don’t like watching people get broken like this. The boss will be back soon. That’s your last chance. The moment he walks in, spill everything. Don’t lie—not even a little. If he senses anything suspicious, he’ll just kill you without listening.”
“I-I understand.”
She nodded frantically, like someone possessed. She had no other choice.
Not long after, Yohan returned.
He pulled away the sack covering her face and removed the gag from her mouth. She coughed dryly, then immediately blurted out the words.
“Sixty-eight. There are sixty-eight of us.”
She rushed to speak as if afraid he’d leave before she finished. Yohan stared at her, then lifted her chin, helping her drink.
Kim Seol-hwa swallowed the water hastily, but the liquid caught in her throat, making her cough violently. Once she calmed down, she spoke again.
“Do you have… any food…?”
“The names of the officers.”
His voice was firm. Absolute.
Kim Seol-hwa began to speak.
She confessed everything. Not just what he asked for, but every single detail she knew. Lying didn’t even cross her mind.
Yohan listened, absorbing each word into his memory.
The Seoul Survival Union currently had sixty-eight members and controlled two camps, where they treated survivors like slaves.
Compared to what Yohan had encountered in his previous regressions, this was a mere fraction of their numbers. However, considering that only seven to eight months had passed since the apocalypse, their rapid growth was remarkable.
It made sense. Violence was one of the most effective ways to expand power.
Unlike Baek Jong-soo’s faction, they didn’t stay in one place. Instead, they regularly changed their base of operations. That was likely the key to their survival—avoiding zombie waves and keeping their enemies off balance.
However, among the names Kim Seol-hwa provided, there were several officers Yohan had never heard of before.
Perhaps they had died before Yohan encountered them in his previous life. Or maybe they were new additions brought about by the changes he had made to the timeline.
The advance team that had come to Bucheon after hearing Jung-mi’s broadcast consisted of ten people, including Kim Seol-hwa. She also mentioned that, aside from herself, there was one additional officer among them.
A man simply referred to as the Second Search Team Leader.
He was likely the one filling the position that should have belonged to Baek Jong-soo.
Among the advance team, this man was the one to watch out for. Even from the way Kim Seol-hwa described his appearance, Yohan couldn’t recall him. But if he held an officer’s position, there had to be a reason.
“How were you supposed to contact the advance team?”
“There’s a radio in my belongings. I have to report to the search team every three days. If they don’t hear from me for four days, they’ll launch an attack.”
“So tomorrow will be the fourth day, meaning they’ll move.”
Kim Seol-hwa was stunned to realize she had only been captive for three days. It felt like weeks had passed. Yohan’s relentless questioning continued. Even as she coughed from dehydration, she answered every inquiry as best she could.
“What about Gae Baek-jeong? How do you contact him?”
“The search team has a military-grade radio.”
“Even with a military radio, this distance should be too far for direct communication.”
“I don’t know the details. There’s a specialist handling it.”
A relay antenna, perhaps.
Yohan already knew the Union had a communications expert. It wasn’t critical information.
“Is there a way to lure Gae Baek-jeong here?”
“If we claim things are getting difficult, they’ll send reinforcements. But I can’t say for sure if he’ll come himself…”
Yohan understood the man well. He was cautious but not the type to shy away from battle. If given the right excuse, it would be possible to lure him into Yohan’s territory.
That was why Kim Seol-hwa was still alive.
“Once we deal with the advance team, I’ll return. Your job is to draw Gae Baek-jeong here. Sweeper, come in.”
At Yohan’s call, the rattling sound of metal echoed from outside as Sweeper entered, pushing a two-tiered tray. On it were a basin of water, a pair of handcuffs, and a bowl of porridge.
Yohan cuffed one of her hands and secured it to a metal radiator, placing the water and food within her reach.
As she lunged desperately for the water, Yohan grabbed her and patted her down, retrieving eight concealed weapons from her body. She flinched every time his hands brushed sensitive areas, but Yohan’s movements remained completely indifferent.
“See you soon.”
Leaving her with that, he exited the room. The lock clicked shut behind him.
The vengeance left a bitter aftertaste, as unpleasant as the stench clinging to his clothes.
—
Yohan gathered the search team and the mercenaries. Tomorrow would be the fourth day—the perfect time to strike.
“The enemy consists of nine people stationed at the Wyca Auto Repair Shop. They’re fully armed and highly trained.”
“I scouted that area before. It was empty back then,” Cheol-gu remarked.
“They must have settled in recently,” Yohan replied.
“Nine people? That’s smaller than I expected.”
“I want this to be a one-sided fight with minimal casualties.”
Despite the fear Yohan had instilled in the old mercenary, the number of enemies seemed unimpressive. Of course, Yohan’s deal with him also included a future battle against the main Seoul Survival Union force, but he left that part unsaid.
Sweeper, standing behind the older man, asked, “So we move out immediately?”
“There’s no need to delay. We’ll mobilize before dawn, surround the area, and launch the attack as soon as we have enough visibility.”
With that, Yohan began the briefing.
—
The advance team’s hideout was a fifteen-minute walk from the family foundation’s headquarters. It was an auto repair shop located along an open stretch of road.
At the moment, they remained unaware of the impending attack. Only one guard stood watch on the rooftop.
Yohan led his team to the best concealed position available, ensuring they were close enough to strike.
Speaking into his radio, he gave the command.
“Sergeant Ong, begin.”
– “Roger.”
Sergeant Ong peered through his scope, adjusting for the distance.
Unlike his usual vantage points, he was shooting from a low position toward a higher target—making the shot more difficult.
He couldn’t afford to miss. The success of the entire operation depended on eliminating the sentry silently in one shot.
He took a deep breath, exhaled slightly, and held.
His finger squeezed the trigger.
The silenced sniper rifle fired.
– “Target down.”
“Guard eliminated. Move in.”
At Yohan’s signal, twenty-five mercenaries swiftly encircled the two buildings of the auto shop.
“Sweeper, Hyuk, you’re coming in with me. The rest provide cover from outside.”
