Honestly, every single one of them had absolutely no manners. If I weren’t a zombie but a person, I would’ve said something long ago — but unfortunately, I was a zombie incapable of speaking human language.
Even if I tried to express anger, the only sound my vocal cords could produce was a low gurgling noise, so keeping my mouth shut was far the wiser way to handle things. How much longer did I hold out after that.
Craaack, BANG!
Eventually, the sound of the broadcasting room’s remaining door collapsing to the floor came — unable to withstand the force of numbers pushing against it. One after another, the zombies poured into the broadcasting room, now wide open with nothing blocking the way.
In the process, some zombies fell to the floor and were ruthlessly trampled — a sight that looked just like a scene from a disaster movie.
After wandering among the horde of zombies surging into the broadcasting room, I quietly poked my head inside along with them.
But something was off. I had clearly followed the bell here, yet inside the broadcasting room there was no human figure to be seen — not even a shadow.
Could there have been a malfunction in the broadcasting room equipment? Or maybe another zombie had accidentally pressed a button.
But turning these thoughts over and working my brain as hard as I could wasn’t going to produce a definitive answer. Various possibilities flashed through my mind one after another, but none of them stood out as a strong lead.
I eventually gave up trying to think and quietly sniffed through the gap where I’d poked my head in.
Sniff, sniff.
I’d never particularly liked sniffing things under normal circumstances, yet here I was doing exactly that at a moment like this — maybe this was a zombie trait too.
I even moved the bridge of my nose, which I’d never really used before, throwing myself into the act of sniffing. My sense of smell was definitely better than when I was human, so I expected I’d surely be able to catch some distinct scent.
But contrary to that expectation, the smell inside the broadcasting room was completely, utterly ordinary. A faintly fishy scent drifted around the bridge of my nose, but there were already so many blood-soaked zombies packed in here that it was most likely coming off their bodies.
I straightened up from my bent posture, feeling a vague sense of disappointment. I wasn’t even sure what I’d been expecting to smell to begin with, but regardless, I couldn’t hide my letdown.
And it seemed the other zombies felt the same disappointment.
Unlike the vigor with which they’d charged into the broadcasting room, the zombies were now shuffling around searching for the source of the sound. It was because the bell that had been ringing so loudly when I first came up to the third floor had stopped all at once.
Once the broadcasting room and the surrounding corridor fell quiet, every zombie’s movements slowed without exception. Instead, they were now using their sense of smell rather than hearing to search for something.
They’re probably looking for the scent of a person. But there was no way the scent of a person would be coming from the empty broadcasting room.
I stood blankly among the zombies who had all fallen silent and looked around. Then, like them, I cautiously tried sniffing again.
Sniff, sniff….
“Krrk….”
But all that reached me was the rank smell of zombie blood and the smell of dust accumulated in the broadcasting room. Could I even distinguish a zombie’s smell from a person’s smell with something as simple as my nose? Anyway, the more I observed them, the stranger a species they seemed to be.
I stood staring blankly at the zombies shuffling around inside the broadcasting room, then found myself drawn toward a familiar silhouette that caught my eye. From a distance it was hard to tell anyone apart — they all looked the same — but on closer, careful inspection, there was definitely a face I could recognize.
Their face was smeared with blood, and they seemed to have badly injured one eye — it was shut — but the overall features, face shape, and hairstyle were, without a doubt, someone I knew. More than anything, the name tag on the left side of their chest that came into view when I drew close made any further doubt unnecessary.
And the moment I saw that name, I felt my heart drop.
That’s someone from my class….
I had firmly believed that at least my own classmates had escaped safely, so the reality confronting me now felt all the more brutal.
It made sense that it would — the reason I’d been able to keep enduring even as my classmates kicked me was because I’d held onto the belief that those kids could survive because of me.
“…….”
However it had come to pass, the fact that a former classmate of mine was now shuffling around in the same space as me meant, without question, that not everyone had made it out alive.
Then what about Cha Do-hyun?
It was around then, as I stood frozen among the zombies. The zombies who had each been busily sniffing away suddenly all turned to look at one spot.
The atmosphere shifted in an instant, and I raised my head too. What had entered their line of sight was none other than a red button sitting on top of the audio equipment.
This was my first time in the broadcasting room, so I wasn’t entirely sure, but it looked like the button used to ring the school bell. And that button appeared to have been cracked — as if it had been struck hard with a fist.
I stared quietly at the button. Looking more carefully, there was a faint smear of blood on it. Sure enough, the zombies that had been searching for the scent of a person using their sense of smell began turning their heads toward the button, one by one.
Blood that hadn’t yet dried. Not the rotten, stagnant stench — but the unmistakable smell of a fresh bloodstain.
And before long, I was certain. It was undeniably the trace of a survivor.
* * *
Cha Do-hyun had remarkable athletic ability from childhood. He had outstanding stamina to begin with, and his physical build was so exceptional that everyone, without exception, said Cha Do-hyun should become an athlete.
And I agreed with that assessment. Having gone through elementary, middle, and high school in the same place as him, I was a living witness who had watched Cha Do-hyun’s growth with my own eyes.
But whenever the topic of sports came up, Cha Do-hyun always responded with clear disinterest. Even after starting high school, the same indifference toward a talent he’d been born with remained unchanged.
No — if anything, Cha Do-hyun seemed to dislike even moving around in everyday life, let alone doing sports. He was always slumped over his desk sleeping during class, and during breaks he would plant himself in the seat next to mine like a permanent fixture, doing nothing but watching me study.
‘Why don’t you go out and play soccer?’
Come to think of it, Cha Do-hyun hardly ever played the typical lunchtime soccer either. So I’d asked him about it. And then Cha Do-hyun, who had been sitting in the next seat over like a barnacle, propped on one arm with his chin resting in his hand, answered.
‘It’s boring.’
‘Why? You’re good at soccer. If I were as good as you, I feel like I’d be going out and running around every day.’
‘Then go out and play soccer with me.’
‘…I said I feel like I would if I were good at it. I’m bad at soccer. The one time I played before, I scored an own goal and got roasted by everyone….’
Ah, right. That’s what happened. Cha Do-hyun lifted one corner of his mouth and gave a lazy smile at that. I glared at him hard, then dropped my gaze back down to my book.
But once a conversation had started flowing, there was no way the text on the page was going to register. I eventually set down the pen I was holding and asked.
‘But are you really not going to go to a sports university? Our homeroom teacher has high hopes for you.’
‘Yeah. Not going.’
‘Why? Why not? Your practical grades are perfect.’
‘Does everyone with perfect practical grades go to a sports university? And even if I could, I have no intention of going.’
‘Then where are you going to go?’
Cha Do-hyun, who had been answering my questions compliantly, suddenly met my gaze. He just stared without saying anything for a while, and I blinked.
What? Is he trying to have a staring contest? As I waited in silence for an answer without anything passing between us, Cha Do-hyun abruptly opened his mouth.
‘Then where are you going to go.’
‘Me? Well, wherever my grades can get me?’
‘In Seoul?’
‘Probably, I’d think?’
And then Cha Do-hyun went quiet again. It was a little irritating — he wouldn’t answer my question but he alone had gotten an answer out of me.
I narrowed my eyes and flicked Cha Do-hyun’s wrist. The chin he’d been resting in his hand slipped.
Serves him right. I burst out laughing — pfft — at Cha Do-hyun’s bewildered stare.
‘So where are you going to go, I said.’
‘…I’m going to,’
‘Ahhh— fuck, it’s so goddamn hot out there!’
That’s when Kim Jae-yun came into the classroom with two minutes of lunch left, shouting. At the same moment, something heavy dropped onto the top of my head.
I forced my head up from where it had nearly face-planted onto the desk. Even without looking up, I could tell that what had been draped over my head was Kim Jae-yun’s arm.
I grimaced at the considerable weight pressing down on me, and seeing that, Cha Do-hyun shoved Kim Jae-yun’s arm off.
‘Go wash up before coming in, you bastard. You reek of sweat.’
‘Obviously I’m sweating, I just ran around. And it’s a pain to wash.’
‘Filthy bastard.’
‘Why is our Do-hyun hyung so upset today.’
After that, it was the same as always — Cha Do-hyun and Kim Jae-yun going back and forth trading insults at each other. Those two, I had no idea how they managed to start fighting every single time they laid eyes on each other. I shook my head slowly and rummaged through my desk drawer.
In the meantime, the bell signaling the end of lunch rang out. Cha Do-hyun checked the clock on the wall and let out a deep sigh — haa. He stretched his arm out, pushed his chair back, and stood up with a thud.
I raised my eyes to follow the figure that shot up so visibly. Cha Do-hyun caught that and glanced down at me.
‘I’ll be back later.’
And then he ambled back to his own seat.
This was how it always went — every single break, Cha Do-hyun would come take the seat next to mine, and when class started he’d go back, over and over again. And he did this even though Cha Do-hyun sat at the far end by the window while I sat at the far end by the corridor.
He spent every class slumped over sleeping, yet somehow managed to wake up with uncanny precision the moment a break started — it was genuinely baffling.
I watched Cha Do-hyun’s retreating figure drift toward the window, then turned my head back.
Come to think of it, I still hadn’t gotten an answer. I resolved to ask again when this period ended, and opened my book.
But fifth period passed, and sixth period passed, and even on the walk home together — I never brought that question up again.
The reason was simple. I forgot.
That was all.
