December 24, 2037, Thursday. Christmas Eve.
Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way.
A cheerful song echoed through the ruins of a department store.
Despite the desolation—shattered walls and the absence of people—today, of all days, it felt strangely warm.
“Run! Faster! Faster!”
A man’s desperate shout rang out.
Behind him, a horde pursued.
“Kaarrgh… Ka-haargh…”
People with their flesh torn away—zombies.
They growled, their tattered bodies jerking as they moved.
“Uncle!”
“Run! Don’t look back!”
Though their movements were clumsy, the zombies were surprisingly fast.
They didn’t give up easily, and the uncertain chase continued.
“Hold on! We’re almost there! Get to the broadcasting room!”
As the child reached the entrance to the broadcasting room—
“Ka-haaargh!”
One of the zombies lunged at him.
“Run!”
“Uncle!”
But the terrified child froze in place, collapsing where he stood.
“Damn it!”
The man dove forward, sliding across the floor towards the child.
But he couldn’t save himself.
Chomp!
A zombie bit down on his leg.
Its teeth pierced through his thick jeans.
“AAAHHH!”
A scream of pain erupted.
The leg he’d sacrificed to save the boy was instantly drenched in blood.
“Get inside, now!”
The boy hesitated, trembling in fear.
“Uncle!”
“Don’t stand there! Just go!”
Startled by his roar, the boy began running.
Tears streamed through the air as he sprinted into the broadcasting room, flinging the glass door open.
Pant, pant!
His face was flushed and streaked with tears.
If only I hadn’t frozen back there… It’s all my fault.
The boy blamed himself for everything.
“Kaarrgh! Ka-haargh!”
At the sound of the zombies’ guttural cries, he clamped his hands over his ears, curling up on the floor.
“Damn… should’ve just done that earlier.”
The man endured the pain, keeping the zombie latched onto his leg to buy time.
Only when he saw the boy safely inside did he shove the zombie away and pull his leg free.
“ARRRGHH!”
He drew his dagger and sliced cleanly through the zombie’s neck.
The head tumbled to the ground.
Thud, thud, splat!
He stomped on the fallen head with all his strength.
The zombie’s skull caved in, leaving a bloody mess on the floor.
Pant, pant, pant!
He gasped for air, but the noise attracted more zombies.
Despite their numbers, he didn’t retreat.
“Come on! Let’s have some fun!”
He threw himself into the fight.
Even as chunks of his flesh were torn away, exposing bone, he pressed on.
He used himself as bait, luring the zombies close enough to decapitate them.
He knew better than anyone that if he fell, the boy would die.
After a grueling hour-long battle, it was over.
“AAARGH!”
He clenched his fists and roared at the sky.
In that blood-soaked battlefield, he alone remained standing, surrounded by the corpses of zombies.
Tap, tap, tap!
He knocked on the broadcasting room door, a smile on his face.
His ravaged appearance, however, was horrifying.
Clink!
The boy opened the door with trembling hands.
Bang!
As soon as the door opened, the man stumbled inside.
The boy embraced his bloodied figure, tears streaming down his face.
“Uncle, are you okay? Does it hurt a lot?”
He gently pushed the boy away and sat against a corner of the room, beckoning him closer.
“Seonwoo, come here.”
The boy nodded and approached.
Tears flowed from the man’s one remaining eye.
“I’m sorry, but I need to rest now. I’m so sorry… for leaving you alone. So, so sorry…”
This was the man who had always protected him, his steadfast guardian.
But now, he could only repeat his apologies, stroking Seonwoo’s face.
Though tears streamed down, Seonwoo shook his head, refusing to let him go.
“You idiot! I’ve done enough. Let me go. You can manage on your own, can’t you?”
Reluctantly, Seonwoo nodded, though his trembling betrayed his fear of being alone.
“Take care of yourself.”
The man placed his dagger in Seonwoo’s hands.
When Seonwoo tried to drop it, the man clasped his hands firmly.
“Let me rest… as a human.”
His sorrowful, pleading gaze pierced the boy.
Seonwoo, trembling, gripped the dagger and brought it to the man’s throat.
“Uncle… I promise I’ll survive.”
“Good. That’s my boy.”
The man nodded, tears flowing endlessly.
Thunk!
“Guhk—!”
The dagger pierced his throat.
Dark crimson blood gushed out, splattering all over Seonwoo. His entire body was drenched, the metallic taste of blood filling his mouth. It had dripped from his face, sliding into his lips.
Yet, Seonwoo didn’t flinch. He simply stared at the man’s face. Even in death, the man’s eyes remained open, as if he had too many regrets to let go.
Gently, Seonwoo reached out and closed the man’s eyes. He then removed the necklace hanging around his neck and placed it over his own.
“Goodbye, Uncle.”
With that farewell weighed down by despair, Seonwoo turned away.
Rustle.
A sound came from behind.
“Uncle?”
Seonwoo turned back with a hopeful smile, desperately clinging to the chance that it might be him. But his hope was in vain. The man remained lifeless, slumped against the wall, blood pooling beneath him.
Seonwoo returned to their shelter and curled up on the man’s bed. Though he woke several times throughout the night, he didn’t bother to get up.
Days blurred into each other, their count slipping from his memory. He spent his time sniffing the faint traces of the man’s scent left on the bed. It was the only thing keeping his fear at bay.
Thud!
A sound came from under the bed.
Seonwoo shifted and peeked out.
“This is…”
It was the necklace the man had worn. As he picked it up, tears began streaming down his face, tears he thought he’d already run dry.
“I’m sorry, Uncle.”
Seonwoo cried for a long time. When he finally stopped, he forced himself to rise. He had a promise to keep—a promise to survive.
Resolute, he headed toward the food storage. However, most of the supplies were spoiled.
“Ah, that’s right. Uncle and I were scavenging for food back then.”
He now remembered why they had ventured deeper into the mall.
Grrrr!
Hunger clawed at his stomach. Seonwoo rummaged through the storage, determined to find something edible.
“Found it!”
After much searching, he found two moldy strips of jerky. Brushing off the mold, he chewed on them with vigor. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to regain a little strength.
Recharged, Seonwoo began to sort through the man’s belongings. Each discovery felt like a fleeting reunion, easing his loneliness.
“What’s this?”
Under the bed, he spotted a dusty old box, its surface marred with rust.
Clunk!
He stretched out flat on the floor, tugging the box toward him. Though it scraped and bumped, it slid out surprisingly easily.
“What could be inside?”
Click!
The box had no lock and opened with ease.
“Wow, what is all this?”
The box was a treasure trove: weapons, gear, and various trinkets—a survivalist’s dream. But Seonwoo’s attention was drawn to one item in particular: a bottle of whiskey, the man’s favorite drink.
Seonwoo hesitated briefly before taking a sip.
“Ugh! Bitter! Why would anyone drink this?”
His throat burned as if set on fire. Still, with no other drinkable liquids left, he kept drinking.
“Whatever, who cares.”
He gulped it down recklessly, the world around him spinning before he passed out.
When he awoke, his stomach churned violently.
“Ughhh!”
He vomited, but nothing came out except a bitter yellow liquid.
“Damn it… Why did I drink that stuff?”
He wiped his mouth and looked into the box. Among the contents, an old photograph caught his eye.
In the picture, a man cradled a baby in his arms, grinning from ear to ear. Beside him stood a woman with a gentle smile.
“This guy looks like Uncle… But who’s the woman? His wife? Hah! Uncle, you look like such a fool even back then.”
Seonwoo chuckled faintly, brushing his thumb over the photo.
But when he flipped it over, his face froze.
Thud.
The photograph slipped from his trembling hands and fluttered to the ground.
