Click! Thunk!

Even after deciphering the Morse code, Moon Younghoon and Park Sangsik quickly exchanged glances and reflexively aimed their rifles toward the drone and the direction the clicking had come from.

Click-click-claaack-click, click-claaack-click, claaack-click-click.

Hearing the rhythmic clicking again, Moon Younghoon lowered his night-vision goggles and raised his voice slightly.

“I think I know who you are, so come out. You were here before sunset, weren’t you?”

At moments like this, amateurs asked who someone was.

It was far better to say: We already know who you are.

“Lower your weapons first. The guy taking cover behind the tree too.”

“...!”

Moon Younghoon couldn’t help flinching.

Not because of what was said.

But because the low voice they had just heard came from somewhere entirely different than the direction of the clicking.

“......”

Moon Younghoon exchanged another quick look with Park Sangsik.

As highly trained active-duty operators, the two immediately realized several things and slowly lowered their rifles toward the ground.

Then deliberate rustling sounded through the riverside brush, and someone emerged from the darkness.

The man’s clothing and equipment were broadly similar to theirs, yet clearly not standard Republic of Korea military issue.

And he was built incredibly well.

Not merely huge and heavy, but large, solid, and lean all at once.

Combined with the cold, indifferent eyes gleaming beneath his goggles, the man gave off the atmosphere of a massive predatory cat—something like a tiger or jaguar.

Even veteran operator Moon Younghoon felt a chill crawl down his spine and had to consciously stop his finger from drifting toward the trigger.

“Which unit are you with?”

“If I asked you the same thing, would you answer immediately?”

“......”

Moon Younghoon fell silent.

The situation was effectively wartime, yet technically it still wasn’t.

No matter who wore the same uniform or carried Republic of Korea military weapons, there were now plenty of people willing to kill others and take what they had at any moment.

In a world like this, openly revealing your identity to strangers was something only idiots did.

Even so—

“Republic of Korea Navy Special Warfare Flotilla, 5th Special Operations Battalion. Staff Sergeant Moon Younghoon. And you?”

Based on the information he had gathered in these few short moments, Moon Younghoon concluded the man was either an ally—or at least someone who could become one.

“We’ve revealed our side.”

“...Republic of Korea citizen Lee Junho.”

“What? Are you fucking—”

Moon Younghoon stopped the irritated Park Sangsik with a glance and spoke again.

“Fine, Mr. Lee Junho. Then are you saying you’re reserve forces?”

“Strictly speaking, yes.”

“You have companions? How many?”

“Let’s just say more than two.”

Just as Moon Younghoon had done, Junho had also decided he could reveal a certain amount of information.

'He’s a real soldier.'

The fact that this fully armed active-duty UDT operator—a genuine professional among professionals—continued speaking respectfully even in a world like this already proved that Moon Younghoon was a true soldier.

And more importantly, aside from the other UDT operator beside him, the reactions of the remaining two men were different.

'They’re not people being dragged around by force or oppressed.'

From what Junho had observed through the drone feed, they obeyed Moon Younghoon’s orders voluntarily rather than out of coercion.

And above all—

“Understood for now, Mr. Lee Junho. Then let me ask one more thing. Why did you approach us?”

“Because you saw my companion earlier tonight and chose not to shoot him.”

“...!”

Even though they possessed suppressed firearms, they hadn’t shot Kim Jimin.

That alone made them worth attempting a conversation with instead of immediately classifying them as looters.

***

'Who the hell is this guy? Special Forces? 707? No, that uniform isn’t from either of them... what unit is he with?'

Moon Younghoon unconsciously narrowed his eyes as questions kept piling up in his mind.

But the man calling himself Lee Junho showed no intention of revealing his affiliation.

Still, there was one thing Moon Younghoon could say with certainty.

“So you’re saying there are surviving military units around Incheon, Bucheon, and Siheung?”

“Yes. °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° As you probably already know, the force that departed from Jeju failed. But they weren’t completely wiped out.”

“What’s the exact size? Who’s in command there?”

Park Sangsik cut in.

Junho turned his gaze toward the man, who looked to be around twenty-three or twenty-four.

“At least platoon-sized. I can’t tell you who’s in command.”

“No, why the—”

“That’s enough. Stop.”

“...Yes, Deputy Team Leader.”

Ratatatat....

As rain poured down onto the acrylic roof of the nearby public restroom, Moon Younghoon looked back at Junho.

“How do you know all this, and why are you telling us? And... how are we supposed to believe any of it?”

“Because I know you’re an advance force sent here to reclaim Seoul.”

“...!”

“You’re here to establish a bridgehead, right? I saw the floating bridge near Gayang Bridge. Is that your target?”

“.......”

Moon Younghoon’s mouth shut tightly.

Seeing that reaction, Junho became certain his guess was correct and continued.

“But if things keep going like this, that operation will probably fail.”

“...What?”

A complete stranger he had met for the first time today was not only speaking as though he knew everything about a mission known only to a tiny number of deployed special operations personnel—

He was flatly declaring it would fail.

Moon Younghoon’s eyes widened.

“The Navy lost contact with the force that departed from Jeju too, didn’t it? You probably already know they failed. But the operation still has to continue, so now you’re stuck waiting around unable to move either way. You’ve probably been sitting here for about a week? Maybe two?”

“...Who the hell are you?”

Moon Younghoon’s voice dropped sharply.

The pressure in his tone was enough to make Park Sangsik and the other two men flinch, but Junho didn’t move an inch.

Meeting his gaze directly, Junho answered calmly.

“Who I am isn’t important. What matters is what I’m telling you, Staff Sergeant Moon Younghoon.”

“.......”

“Pass this message to whoever sent you. Something big is about to happen near Guro.”

“...Guro?”

“Yes. Something huge. If things go wrong, tens of thousands—no, hundreds of thousands—of zombies could start moving. Where to? Past Gwangmyeong toward Gwanak and Seocho.”

“...!!!”

In reality, the movement would continue through Gwacheon, Songpa, Bundang, and all the way to Hanam, but Junho intentionally stopped there.

Even that alone would be critically important information for these UDT operators trying to establish a foothold for the reclamation of Seoul.

“That’s impossible! How the hell would you know that? What kind of insane nonsense—”

Park Sangsik stepped forward again, but Junho cut him off coldly.

“You’ll know within a week whether it’s nonsense or not. So instead of doing something stupid, send drones or reconnaissance aircraft along the route I mentioned and confirm it yourselves. You’ll see whether zombies are gathering and moving or not.”

“No, but—”

“And stop thinking about charging into places like Jongno or Yongsan. Verify the route I told you about and bomb it. Fire missiles into it. At minimum, you can wipe out the zombie hordes gathering there from Guro onward. There’ll probably be hundreds of thousands of them. Do you really not understand what it means when that many infected converge and start moving?”

“...!”

Even as a sergeant, Park Sangsik could easily grasp the implications.

His eyes widened, and he fell silent.

The same was true for Moon Younghoon.

After standing there with a hardened expression for a long moment, he finally spoke.

“Let’s assume what you’re saying is true. Then are you saying Gangnam should be secured before Gangbuk?”

“More specifically, the Gwanaksan and Cheonggyesan areas. Civilians still live there too, but it’s nothing compared to the middle of Seoul.”

No—

At this point in time, there might actually be more survivors there than in the city center.

But most of them were doomed to die during the massive zombie migration—the Wave—that would soon erupt from the coming Final Judgment Society incident.

In that case, the Republic of Korea military bombing the zombies would actually result in higher survival rates.

A sudden flood of countless zombies was impossible for human manpower alone to stop.

But if the military dropped warning leaflets before the bombardment began, at least civilians would have a chance to evacuate beforehand.

“If you manage to contact command somehow, pass on my message. You’ve got about a week. Just send reconnaissance flights over the route I mentioned once per day and you’ll confirm it easily enough.”

Once a location was identified, even a few hundred moving zombies would be noticeable.

Failing to detect a force hundreds or thousands of times larger than that would be absurd.

The problem was that military reconnaissance assets were limited.

And because of that, back before the regression, the military at this stage had tried to reclaim Gangbuk before Gangnam in response to demands from a catastrophically incompetent government leadership.

Why?

Because most major government institutions—including the presidential office in Yongsan—were located north of the river.

'Back then I didn’t understand, but now I’m certain...'

Before the regression, Junho had only heard rumors about these events sometime in the fall.

At the time, he had endlessly cursed the government, unable to understand why they would do something so unbelievably stupid.

Now he finally knew.

“...Why are you telling us this?”

Moon Younghoon couldn’t fully trust Junho’s words.

But judging from the man’s appearance and conduct alone, he was clearly far from ordinary.

'So there really were other units deployed that we don’t know about...'

Moon Younghoon naturally thought of organizations like the National Intelligence Service or units such as the Air Force’s 259th Special Mission Battalion, commonly known as CCT.

Then Junho answered:

“You didn’t shoot my companion, so I’m helping you out too. When the outcome is obvious, dying pointlessly would be a waste, wouldn’t it? Let’s just call it repaying a favor.”

Of course, the more important reason was using the Republic of Korea military’s help to eliminate the massive zombie hordes that might otherwise pour toward Gwangju and Namyangju.

Still, Kim Jimin really had survived thanks to them.

So Junho answered honestly.

And somehow—

Compared to grand declarations about patriotism and sacrifice for the nation, that answer felt far more sincere to Moon Younghoon.

***

Whiiiiiiine....

The drone—which looked extraordinary even at a glance—shot upward into the sky and disappeared into the darkness.

“Deputy Team Leader.”

Still staring blankly upward, Park Sangsik spoke to Moon Younghoon, who remained silently focused on the same spot.

“You’re not seriously believing what that guy said, are you?”

“...Why?”

“Because it makes no sense. Something huge happening in Guro? Zombie migration? What is he, some kind of fortune teller? How would he even know that?”

“Maybe he’s planning to make it happen himself.”

“...What?”

“Forget it. Either way, this information has to be reported.”

“But—”

“You sure talk a lot, don’t you?”

“...Sorry, sir.”

Normally the two treated each other almost like real brothers.

But brothers still had hierarchy between them.

Park Sangsik immediately straightened up.

“No matter what, we just received information too important to ignore. So we report it. Higher command will decide what to do with it, and if orders come down, we follow them. Simple.”

“Understood.”

Moon Younghoon smirked at the instantly disciplined response and lightly slapped Park Sangsik on the shoulder.

“Anyway, good thing you didn’t shoot that guy we saw earlier tonight. None of this would’ve happened otherwise.”

“That’s true. If we had shot him... whew.”

Remembering the “special” drone that had vanished into the night sky moments ago, Park Sangsik exaggerated a shudder.

And understandably so.

Even for operators like them, who used high-end equipment regularly, the drone they had just seen was unlike anything they had encountered before.

“An attack drone made from a modified air rifle. Seriously... where the hell did they even build something like that?”

“The accuracy didn’t look amazing, though. And it’s not exactly stealthy because of the noise.”

“Still, imagine that thing shooting at us from fifty or sixty meters overhead. We would’ve been fucked.”

“That’s true.”

“Lee Junho could’ve ambushed us, but instead he chose to make contact. That alone proves one thing. He’s an ally.”

“...Yes.”

Park Sangsik quietly nodded.

Then a thought occurred to him, and he carefully asked:

“Leaving aside the information he gave us... are you planning to report him too?”

“Of course I am. Maybe higher command will figure out who he is and tell us.”

To Moon Younghoon, an active-duty soldier and a genuine professional, that was simply the obvious thing to do.

But he had no idea that because of that decision, Junho’s future would begin to change slightly from this night onward.