"Yes. I'm really fine." Jiho repeated, his voice steady but resigned, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he walked home.
"I just had a fight with some of my former classmates. It's… about what I told you. Daniel and Eunhee." His tone was more composed now, measured.
A pause.
"Right… Alright. I'll see you soon and tell you all about it. Bye, Mom."
He ended the call, slipping his phone into his pocket—then caught his reflection in a closed shop window.
For a moment, he studied himself.
Almost instinctively, his fingers twitched, tempted to fix his hair.
'I should dress up for this date. I wonder if Daniel—'
His own thought disgusted him. His face twisted in an instant, the image in his mind forcefully replaced with Jang.
'...I wonder if hyung knows girl stuff? He was a bully, so he must've been a hit, right? Though… something tells me he's full of shit.'
A sigh escaped him.
'Haah… What should I—'
Then, something flickered in his peripheral vision.
His reflection distorted—a massive figure barreling toward him from behind.
'SHIT!'
Jiho's eyes went wide as instinct took over. He jumped aside just as a fist slammed into the shop window—
BOOM.
A shockwave tore through the air.
The impact wasn't just a hit—it was an explosion. The sheer force sent Jiho flying, the pressure knocking the breath out of him before he even registered the pain.
"Gaaah!"
He barely had time to cough before his body crashed into a nearby wall, rattling his bones.
He gasped, lungs struggling to work again.
"Haah… Haah… What…?"
Through blurred vision, he looked up.
From inside the wreckage, a giant stepped forward.
Easily four meters tall, the man's sheer bulk made the ground tremble with every step.
Jiho's breath hitched.
'FUCK… IS THAT A ZOMBIE?!'
Adrenaline surged through his veins. His body, battered and aching, moved before his brain could catch up. He forced himself upright, falling into a fighting stance.
A low chuckle rumbled through the air.
"You're fast, runt. Good. This won't be over quickly, then."
The hulking figure smashed his fists together, his grin stretching wide with wicked amusement.
"You were right, Black." He said, "He's a player. This'll be fun..."
Another presence emerged from the shadows—a woman, draped in black, her silhouette razor-sharp against the dim light.
Dark hair. Pale skin. Lips painted with a black lipstick.
"Remember, Red." Her voice was level, but her stare was piercing. "We kill him together. Only weaken him." Her gaze flicked to Jiho, fancying herself dissecting him in a single glance. "And tell me when you're done. I hate hearing people scream in agony."
Jiho's stomach twisted.
'Player... Shit.'
He knew exactly what that word meant.
Jang had a system. Eventually, he revealed it to Jiho. And Jiho...
A flicker of text.
[Well, Boyo.]
Jiho's breath hitched. That voice.
His eyes snapped wide open.
'You..!'
[Feel like using me yet?]
A moment of hesitation. That moment cost him.
"Where are you looking, shrimp?!"
A blur of motion.
The punch ripped through the holographic message, dispersing it into scattered data. A mere inch from Jiho's face.
His instincts screamed.
'I CAN'T DODGE—'
He threw up his arms.
The world shattered.
A sound like a gunshot rang through the street as Red's fist met Jiho's guard. Bone gave way instantly.
A sickening crack.
Pain.
It tore through Jiho's limbs before his nerves could even register what had happened.
The force was beyond anything human. Beyond comprehension.
His entire body lifted off the ground before his brain could even process the impact. His ribs compressed. His lungs emptied. Even the air couldn't resist fast enough.
Then—detonation.
The storefront behind him exploded as his body crashed through it.
Glass and wood burst apart like a bomb went off. The world blurred—shelves, metal, concrete—all of it turned to debris in his wake.
And then the wall.
A second explosion of destruction as he was blasted through the back of the shop, his body exiting the other side like a bullet tearing through flesh.
He hit the ground. Rolled.
Skidded.
Finally, he stopped.
The silence rang louder than the destruction.
Jiho lay in the wreckage, body twitching, eyes unfocused. For a brief moment, he wasn't sure if he was even alive.
Slowly, his gaze lifted, vision blurred. Shock settling in.
What...
What the fuck was that?
A shadow loomed over him from the destruction he left behind.
Red rolled his shoulders, cracking his knuckles with a manic grin. "Oh, man." He exhaled, almost giddy.
"You actually survived that?"
"You...!!!" Jiho growled as he walked through the store, walking up to Jiho.
[RAGE MODE AVAILABLE!!!] Jiho looked over it as he breathed frantically.
"Feelin' angry? Good. Go on, then. Show me what you got..!" Red urged as Jiho clenched his fists.
-------
"Jang Seung-Woo, huh?"
Jang muttered to himself as he studied his new ID, rolling the unfamiliar name over in his mind. The card felt light in his hands, but the weight of his new identity pressed down on him as he stepped into his apartment. The space was dark and unfamiliar, barely furnished. He sighed, rubbing a hand down his face as he leaned against the doorframe.
"I almost fucked myself up."
Letting the exhaustion settle into his bones, he sank onto the floor, staring up at the ceiling.
"Remember, Monsieur Jang. You mustn't reveal your real last name. Jang Seun-Jae is currently missing. If anyone finds out he's alive and... well, not crippled anymore, you'll be hunted down. Your situation isn't as mild as Monsieur Jiho's. If someone found out about you, not only you—but also he—would be in danger.
"Luckily, we managed to reach the ones you spoke to at the quarantine zone's checkout and alter the name you've told them, but that was extremely difficult - as we needed to forge a new identity altogether. Please, be mindful."
Jang exhaled slowly, his thoughts drifting as he processed Marcel's words.
'So in the end, it's not even about me. It's because I'd be an inconvenience to that bitch if word got out.'
His mouth curled into a grimace, though the emotion behind it felt forced.
Since...
...he didn't even feel bad that Jiho was the reason he was being protected.
'It FUCKING pisses me off.'
He dragged his hands down his face, frustration simmering beneath his skin.
'Why do I feel so—'
His fingers clenched, nails pressing into his palms.
'Because of that bitch, I can't even get near Joon Seok... Fuck.'
'FUCK...!!!'
The name alone was enough to send a rush of adrenaline through his system. He expected the usual surge of fury, the need for revenge clawing at him.
But instead—
A shudder ran through him.
A quiet relief settled in his chest.
Because now, he wouldn't have to face him.
His fist slammed into the floor, a sharp crack splitting the silence.
"I'M FUCKING STRONG NOW."
The words came out ragged, more to convince himself than anything else.
"I'M NOT SCARED OF FUCKING ANYONE."
The words hung in the air, defiant and raw. But the room stayed silent.
His breathing steadied. His fists, clenched with all the fury in his bones, began to loosen.
'…Shit.'
Leaning back, he let the cool surface of the wall press against his skin, grounding him.
'I should've asked that bitch for his number…'
A slow exhale.
'At least I'd have someone to fucking yell at.'
He closed his eyes for a second, willing the thoughts away. But they lingered.
'It's only been two hours. I'm not some weak-ass bitch. I don't need anyone. So…'
His gaze drifted toward the window.
Jiho's house was right there.
Directly in front of him.
His eye twitched.
'WHY THE FUCK DID THEY PUT MY APARTMENT HERE!?!'
His stomach twisted with frustration. 'I left thinking the place they set up for me was FAR, FAR AWAY! WHY THE HELL DID IT HAVE TO BE RIGHT ACROSS THE STREET!?!'
His fingers dug into his pockets, jaw tightening.
'I had to sneak past that bastard just to get here. ME. HIDING. WHAT THE FUCK!?'
With a sharp breath, he pushed himself off the wall, hands still buried in his pockets as he stalked toward the door.
'Fuck it. I'll go out. Get some BBQ. At least the French were generous with the cash.'
His gaze lingered on it.
He had his freedom. He could go anywhere, do anything.
Yet the weight in his chest remained the same.
...
'Though I bet that BBQ wouldn't even be the least bit as tasty as that bitch's MILF's cooking...'
His jaw tensed as the thought crept in.
Shaking his head, he willed it away.
'...Jiho's mom, I mean.'
A small exhale left him. His hands sank deeper into his pockets. His expression softened for a fleeting moment before he scoffed at himself.
'Whatever.'
Pushing himself off the wall, he forced his mind toward something else.
'I'll go to a five-star restaurant and move on. I'm not some clingy idiot—'
A sharp vibration cut through the silence.
His phone.
Without hesitation, he answered.
"Fuck do you want?"
His voice was stripped of patience, filled with quiet exasperation.
"Monsieur Jang," Marcel's voice came through, urgent.
"Monsieur Jiho needs your help. Urgently."
Jang froze.
The haze, the irritation, the useless self-reflection—
Gone.
His body moved before his mind could even catch up.
"I'm coming."
No hesitation. No doubt.
Nothing else mattered.
-----------------------
"Shit. They're gonna kill him."
From the shadows of a nearby abandoned house, the two French spies Marcel had stationed whispered urgently.
They were the ones who had cleaned up after Jiho's incident—the so-called paramedics who took care of his classmates' injuries.
One of them adjusted the rifle slung across his chest. "We need to move. If he dies, the Young Lady will have it in for us."
"Wait."
The first spy, the one who had tended to Cha earlier, didn't budge.
His partner whipped around, incredulous. "What the hell are we waiting for!?"
"I want to see," he murmured, eyes fixed on the unfolding fight. "I told you, didn't I? I want to see what he's made of. That Jiho. Why she's so... into him."
His partner's face twisted in disgust. "This isn't the time for one of your jealousy attacks."
"Don't act like you're not curious too."
The words struck something. His partner hesitated.
A smirk.
"What's his special zombie power, huh?" His fingers tapped against the windowsill as he leaned in. "Monsieur Marcel conducted a thorough investigation, and turns out—there was another case like this in America. One with powers. This is an opportunity to learn."
His partner exhaled sharply, grip on his rifle tightening.
"Fine."
His gaze followed Jiho's battered, twitching body. Bloodied. Barely standing.
'And if he dies here… the Young Lady won't have to waste her time on this nobody. Nor will we have to follow his sorry ass around 24/7.'
A quiet grimace tugged at his lips.
'He's probably just a brat who has nothing but some fancy superpower gimmick. You're not good enough for her.'
His fingers curled.
'All you have is some special power you'll probably lose control of—'
"FUCKING IDIOT."
A sharp, guttural snarl came from Jiho's bleeding mouth.
The spy's thoughts screeched to a halt.
'…Huh?'
Red exhaled through his nose, shaking his head.
"Haaah... Look at him, Black. He's swearing—"
"I'm stating.. a FACT...!" Jiho growled, barely sparing the flickering system message a glance.
Red smirked. "Insults, insults… You won't hurt me with your mouth, runt. So swing your fists—"
"ACTUAL SMOOTH-BRAIN." Jiho cut him off, exasperation leaking into his voice.
Red rolled his shoulders. "Alright, I get it. So get up—"
Jiho's breathing was ragged, his ribs flaring with pain. His blood-slicked fingers twitched.
"Both of you…" he wheezed, forcing himself upright. "I have never—in my life—come across anyone so profoundly, irredeemably, mentally handicapped."
Black flinched, irritation flickering in her face.
"You think you're clever, huh!?" Red grabbed Jiho by the collar, yanking him up like a ragdoll. Jiho's ribs screamed in protest.
"Say that to my face—"
Jiho's bloodied lips curled into a snarl, teeth grinding. His arms hung limp, bone grotesquely protruding.
"Fucking idiot." His voice was razor-sharp. "An inbred has more IQ in a single hemisphere than the two of you combined. I bet your family tree isn't even a tree—just a DNA spiral looping in on itself."
Red's smirk disappeared.
"Okay," he said flatly, voice eerily calm. "Forget the 'fight to the death' bullshit. I'll just bash your skull in."
His grip tightened. His other fist cocked back, ready to cave Jiho's face in.
Jiho sucked in a breath. "ACTIVATE RAGEM—"
A sharp voice cut through.
"You're really insistent on calling us that."
Black stepped forward, eyes gleaming as she studied him in reluctant irritation.
Both Red and Jiho glanced at her.
"HOW COULD I NOT!?" Jiho barked, his glare drilling into her. She flinched. "LOOK AROUND YOU! ATTACKING ME IN BROAD DAYLIGHT!? YOU DO REALIZE EVERYONE HERE IS ON STRICT WATCH BECAUSE OF THE ZOMBIE OUTBREAK, RIGHT!?" His breath came ragged, fury boiling over.
"LOOK AT THE CAMERAS! Forget how my life is fucked now that I took a hit like that in plain view AND LIVED—but you two certified brain donors had the absolute lack-of-processing-power and had crayon-muncher here transform into a circus attraction in the middle of the street!!?"
Black hesitated, eyes darting around. Jiho could see the moment realization hit her—her half-lidded gaze flicking to the blinking street cameras.
"Uh… Ah…" She stiffened.
Jiho sneered. "What, should I teach you serial-killing 101!? You pair of developmentally stunted morons!?"
Red's jaw ticked.
'Huh.' The two French spies thought in unison as they watched.
Jiho wasn't done.
"Acting like this is some—some fighting manhwa—calling yourselves 'Red' and 'Black' like it makes you sound cooler than the absolute half-wits you actually are!?"
Black scoffed, arms folding over her chest. "It's to protect our identity—"
"OHHH!! EXCUUUUUUUUUSE ME!" Jiho threw his head back mockingly. "I FORGOT—FACIAL RECOGNITION DOESN'T EXIST! NOPE! NO SUCH THING AS THOUSANDS OF EXPERTS ANALYZING EVERY PIXEL OF A PERSON'S FACE CAUGHT ON CAMERAS! NOT IN WHATEVER GODFORSAKEN BACKWATER HELLHOLE YOU TWO CRAWLED OUT FROM!"
Black flinched, looking away like a scolded child.
Red exhaled through his nose, adjusting his grip as he held Jiho aloft. "Doesn't matter, runt."
Jiho's glare snapped to him.
"Once we kill you," Red continued, voice low and firm, "we get experience points. Get stronger. Rule this world and—"
"WATCHING YOUR BACKS 24/7!!!"
Jiho cut him off, his eye twitching. "I HOPE TO GOD ZOMBIFICATION CAME WITH THE ABILITY TO NEVER SLEEP, BECAUSE THE SECOND YOU CLOSE YOUR EYES, THE GOVERNMENT IS GONNA SWARM YOU TWO LOBOTOMITES AND EXPERIMENT ON YOU, BEING THE FREAKSHOW THAT WE ARE."
For the first time, even Red flinched, his grip on Jiho loosening as his gaze darted away.
"SO GO AHEAD. KILL ME." Jiho's breath came in ragged gasps, his entire body trembling from exertion. "ADD A MURDER CHARGE—THAT'LL SURELY PUT YOU ON THE NICEST OF TERMS WITH THE SAME GOVERNMENT THAT'LL HUNT YOU DOWN LIKE LAB RATS."
A moment of silence.
Then—
"... R-r… Red… Let's run."
Black's voice barely rose above a whisper. Her bravado had completely crumbled, her face paling as she took an uneasy step back. "L-leave… h-him here." Her wide eyes flicked toward the approaching figures in the distance.
Red hesitated, his jaw clenched. Then, with a reluctant growl, he dropped Jiho onto the rubble and took a step back.
Jiho's stern, unwavering gaze never left their faces.
Red exhaled sharply, then grabbed Black and turned away.
'You… YOU FUCKING… BASTARD…!'
Black's face burned red—not from exertion, but from pure, seething humiliation.
'I'll remember this…!'
Her teeth dug into her lip as she shot Jiho one last glare before Red took off, dashing away with her in his arms.
'Haaah... Haaah... This is bad... I'm... Blacking out...' Jiho's consciousness then faded, his head slumping against the rubble.
From the abandoned house, the reluctant spy let out a snort. Then—
"Pfft…"
A chuckle.
Then full-blown laughter.
"HAHAHAHA… Hahaha… Haaa… I take it all back. If the Young Lady won't date him, I WILL."
Grinning, he wiped a tear from his eye and ran a hand through his hair.
"Come on…" He let out a slow breath. "Let's get him out of here before someone gets a good look at him."
Jang stepped forward, standing over Jiho's battered form; having watched the end of the scuffle from nearby.
'Somehow… I know how that hulk and Princess Emo feel.'
His gaze lingered on Jiho, now completely unconscious, his body twisted in the rubble. Jang winced at Jiho's broken bones and injuries.
'Fucking idiot.'
With a grunt, Jang crouched and hauled Jiho up into a princess carry.
'If anyone sees you healing in a few hours, they'll start asking questions... Where to go now?'
His eyes flicked up.
Ahead, two figures approached—the French spies.
Jang's expression darkened.
'…The fuck are these guys?'
--------
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