The Crimson Mist
Fortunately, this mutant was one that could actually be brought down with gunfire, and such an opponent was easily subdued by Dokyung.
With an eerily precise burst of fire that severed its tongue and rendered it helpless, Dokyung sprang forward. He locked his legs around the lanky mutant’s neck, seized its horn, and wrenched its head upward. Every time the pistol lodged in the roof of the collapsing monster’s mouth roared, the creature’s skull exploded in a wet spray.
“……!”
The first time Boyeon witnessed the scene, it had chilled her to the bone.
It was definitely not a trick of the light.
From the mutant’s shattered head, amid the spilling cerebral fluid and gore, a crimson mist rose. What looked like coarse grains of sand swirled around Dokyung, glittering faintly before sinking into him and vanishing.
Whenever Dokyung killed a mutant, the same phenomenon occurred. She had seen it several times now.
On top of that, whether it was her imagination or not, his movements seemed to grow smoother and more refined with each passing hunt.
It wasn’t only his eyesight that was exceptional. His overall senses and physical prowess were all superior.
There was something special about him. Was it because he was an Immune? Were all Immunes like this? If so, wouldn’t a special forces unit made up entirely of Immunes have been formed already, launching the Seoul reclamation operation by now?
After finishing the hunt, Dokyung glanced once at the drone.
“…….”
His gaze felt as though it pierced straight through the screen and pinned her in place. A fresh wave of gooseflesh rippled across her skin.
Boyeon was certain. Her drone had still not located any creature more dangerous than Ju Dokyung.
To her, Ju Dokyung was the most terrifying thing in existence.
Dokyung returned soaked in the mutant’s blood. Perhaps wary of infection, he headed straight for the bathroom. Yet once he emerged from his shower, the bloodlust still simmering in his veins drove him to seize Boyeon with bruising force.
“Hah… ahk! Gentler—ah…! Please, gentler—haahk!”
No matter how desperately Boyeon begged while pinned face-down on the bed, it made no difference.
Dokyung was a tyrant. When the mood struck him he could be almost generous, but when it didn’t, he ignored every plea and simply used her however he wished. If she was foolish enough to resist while he was this wildly aroused, the man whose eyes had already rolled back in frenzy would do things to her that left her broken for days.
She felt like live prey tossed before an uncontrollable monster—nothing more than a female whose unintended scent had triggered its lust.
Yet Boyeon could not simply hate him.
“Huu… stop now… sob, you’ve already done it so much…”
“I won’t.”
Once he finished, the frenzy drained away and he grew languid, pulling her tightly into his arms. A beast remained a beast even when docile, but Dokyung was the only source of warmth she could turn to when the misery became too much.
She would cry against his chest, listening to the steady thud of his heart until sleep finally claimed her.
Boyeon had always possessed a gentle nature. She simply lacked the talent for hatred. Even after being used to the point of sobbing, she still spoke to him. The longing to talk with another human being was poured entirely onto Dokyung.
Under his watchful eye, he allowed her a surprising amount of freedom. He often took her on walks the way one might exercise a pet. The chance to feel sunlight on her skin lifted her spirits, and she would chatter to him with genuine affection.
If I’d known things would turn out like this, I should have asked Grandfather to grow apple trees instead of pines. They’d be bright red and ready to eat by now.
She had said it while gazing at the stately pine in the garden. It carried no deep meaning, and Dokyung had shown no particular reaction.
Yet the very next day he tracked down a fully ripened apple tree somewhere in Seoul and returned with a bag stuffed full of fruit. He offered no boast, made no special remark. With the same indifferent expression he always wore, he simply peeled an apple and held it out to her.
“You said you wanted apples. Come eat.”
She knew. To him, she was nothing more than a cherished female.
Even so, this man was all Boyeon had left.
How could she possibly hate the last remaining warmth in her life?
She possessed neither the courage nor the will to try.
It did not take long for life alongside a cruel predator to begin feeling like ordinary routine. She could do far more than when she had been locked alone inside the bunker, and in some ways it was more comfortable.
And so Boyeon resigned herself to this life with Dokyung and slowly adapted.
The season had turned to winter.
It was roughly two months after Boyeon and Dokyung had begun living together.
“Aaaargh!”
Just as they were about to step into the yard, a human scream tore through the air.
“That’s a person’s voice…!”
Boyeon whispered urgently. Dokyung’s face remained indifferent, as though he had no interest in getting involved. She already knew he wasn’t the type to step forward and help others. While tailing him with her drone during hunts, she had watched him ignore other survivors countless times. She could not blame him. He had no reason to risk himself for strangers.
But Boyeon could not ignore screams coming from so close. Even if there were only one or two zombies, she thought she might be able to draw their attention with the drone.
Whether it was fortunate or unfortunate, the commotion drew near far too quickly for even Dokyung to dismiss. When Boyeon peered over the wall, her face drained of color.
“His arm’s caught!”
“Too late—run!”
What pursued the group was a mutant. Its muscles bulged grotesquely, like the aftermath of steroid abuse. It resembled the giant green monsters from old movies and was unmistakably massive—at least three meters tall.
It tore flesh from anything it could grab, human or zombie alike, yet it clearly preferred living people. The fleeing survivors ran mixed among the undead. What astonished her was that the normal zombies were not attacking them.
They were Immunes.
Dokyung seemed intrigued by the unusual situation. He snatched up the machine gun and vaulted onto the wall in a single bound. He fired first at the mutant, but the bullets failed to penetrate properly. The creature possessed enough intelligence to recognize its attacker and charged straight at Dokyung.
He paid it no heed and instead began systematically gunning down the normal zombies. Boyeon understood at once that he was clearing them for her safety. Normal zombies tended to avoid mutants, so their numbers were few; they were wiped out in moments.
“Wh-who—!”
The fleeing Immunes stared at Dokyung with wide, startled eyes. Clearly not every Immune possessed the same overwhelming strength he did.
Without a word, Dokyung reached for the tomahawk gripped by the man at the front of the group. He seized the axe head and yanked. The man lost his weapon with almost comical ease. The tomahawk—once used by North American indigenous tribes for throwing—spun through the air and found its original purpose.
With a sickening crunch, the axe buried itself in the mutant’s nape after spinning at ferocious speed.
“Krrraaaaaaaa!”
The mutant roared with deafening fury as it ripped the axe free. The sound was so loud it felt as if eardrums would rupture. Hidden zombies nearby scattered like frightened rodents. Boyeon could no longer bear it and clapped her hands over her ears.
Ratatatatata!
Frowning, Dokyung unleashed a concentrated burst directly into the gaping wound at the mutant’s neck. The machine gun’s rapid fire shredded the thick flesh into ragged strips. Unable to support the weight of its own skull, the head snapped sideways and fell to the ground with a heavy thud.
“…….”
“…….”
A heavy silence settled over the once-chaotic area. Less than a minute had passed from the moment Dokyung engaged the mutant. It was a godlike display of skill and combat intuition.
In the frenzy, the others had not noticed, but Boyeon clearly saw the red mist rising from the mutant’s ruined head. It swirled exclusively around Dokyung before sinking into his body.
“Ugh!”
The man injured by the mutant was the one who broke the silence. His right arm had been torn clean off just below the shoulder.
“Hyunwoo-hyung!”
“Don’t shoot! He’s an Immune…!”
His companions closed ranks around him, defending desperately. They seemed to fear Dokyung might simply gun the wounded man down. But Boyeon’s thoughts took a different turn.
“…….”
Those pitch-black eyes, now glinting with faint interest, sent an icy shiver racing down her spine.