The Cost of Leniency
The empty box fluttered down lightly. Across its side, the word CONDOM was printed in English.
Boyeon stared at Dokyung with trembling eyes. The fact that this was what he had been searching for shocked her, but the realization that other survivors had stripped the place of every last one in a situation like this was even more staggering.
“Don’t forget why I’m being so lenient with you.”
The moment their eyes met, he whispered the words softly, yet his gaze was terrifying. A heavy, viscous pressure clamped down on her heart.
There was a transaction between them. Dokyung had kept her alive, had refused to abandon her in dangerous moments, and had even found her inhaler. He had proven his worth more than enough. Now it was her turn to pay the price.
“Answer.”
His eyes were like the black bore of a gun. Beyond the window, ghostly wails shuddered through the gloom. Boyeon understood. Without him, she would never make it back alive. The world outside the bunker was far crueler than she had imagined.
“I-I won’t forget…”
Just then, her gaze landed on the birth control pills. Stress had stopped her periods for three months; she had told herself to take them if she could.
“These… are because I haven’t had a period in three months…”
Boyeon whispered in a daze, barely aware of what she was saying. Yet her face burned crimson with shame as she quietly slipped the pills into her backpack. Choices made in the name of survival instead of morality stacked neatly inside the bag.
Dokyung slowly peeled away the crushing pressure he had kept on the rigidly tense woman.
Pshht. The suppressed shots hissed out in short, steady bursts.
The K-7 submachine gun and its 9mm subsonic rounds worked in perfect synergy, keeping the decibels remarkably low. Of the few zombies chained to the stairwell, only the closest ones heard the faint noise and shambled upward. Unable to pinpoint the source because of the distance, they simply walked into the bullets and collapsed.
Each round punched cleanly through the center of their foreheads. The rhythmic cadence almost sounded relaxed.
Was this, too, thanks to his eyes? Exceptional vision was a sniper’s greatest asset. Yet after watching him scale the building’s outer wall with his bare hands, she suspected close-quarters combat would suit him just as well.
Boyeon followed him down the stairs with careful steps, flinching at every wet thud of a body hitting the floor. She gripped the handrail in the darkness; thick, sticky blood coated it. The metallic stench made her stomach heave.
“Weak stomach.”
Dokyung clicked his tongue, having caught the hitch in her breathing. His eyes never left the path ahead.
“S-sorry…”
She was more burden than help, yet the descent went impossibly smoothly. Boyeon felt dazed. His combat ability was on another level. She hadn’t seen a mutant yet, but against ordinary zombies he was overwhelming—completely one-sided.
A human weapon. Immunity, night vision, raw fighting power. It was hard to even guess at the strategic value a man like Ju Dokyung held in the current world.
Carried on his back as they left the building safely, Boyeon thought in a haze.
How enormous a stroke of luck it was to be protected by someone like him. Among the survivors scraping through Seoul’s hellish nights, was there a single person who wouldn’t want him?
Even if that protection was cold and merciless.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
Dokyung retrieved the supplies he had hidden in the ceiling and unlocked the bunker door exactly as Boyeon had instructed. Only after they were inside and the thick door had sealed shut did the tension finally drain from her body. Her arms and legs shook from how tightly she had been clenching every muscle; sweat and blood left her clothes in ruins.
Dokyung seized the arm of the woman who was tottering like a weakling and pulled her deeper into the bunker. The interior—built by her grandfather with an obscene amount of money—lacked almost nothing in terms of comfort. The bathroom was as clean as any high-end apartment.
A man far larger than her stared down at Boyeon with oppressive weight. His dark eyes burned with the leftover heat of bullets poured into a monster’s skull. The blue-black gleam in them refused to hide the thrill of slaughter. It was chilling.
“Strip.”
Guessing why he had dragged her into the bathroom, Boyeon’s body quivered delicately. How stupid she had been to feel safe the moment they reached the bunker. Her grandfather’s shelter was no longer a sanctuary for her. If he decided to beat her or kill her, she wouldn’t be able to offer any meaningful resistance. Whether she fought or submitted, the outcome rested entirely in his hands.
Don’t forget why I’m being so lenient with you.
She hadn’t forgotten. Boyeon had no desire to test the limits of his patience. If she obeyed without resistance, he would at least grant her the smallest measure of mercy—like the inhaler he had given her today.
One by one, the clothes that had covered her body slid to the floor. Her fingers shook violently as they fumbled with the shirt buttons.
What am I doing? Is this really all right? Her mind floated in a foggy haze. The thought of committing such a depraved act inside her grandfather’s bunker filled her with shame. She kept expecting a sharp rebuke to ring out from somewhere.
But she was scared. Lonely. She lacked the courage to defy him. If she had never seen the outside world, perhaps she could have resisted—but after learning what Seoul’s nights were truly like, resistance was no longer possible.
Humans could not survive on food, clothing, and shelter alone. People needed society. They needed relationships in which to share emotions and warmth.
After three months of isolation, she felt as if she had forgotten how to speak. The fact that she could not clearly remember the last time she had spoken aloud terrified her. She wanted conversation. She wanted warmth. She missed the feeling of not being alone.
Boyeon no longer trusted herself to endure another stretch of solitude.
She did not want to remain trapped in this bunker forever.
She wanted to stand on real ground, feel sunlight on her skin, reclaim the freedom she had once taken for granted.
While being carried on his back through Seoul’s deadly nights, she had weighed the value of her own body against his. She had realized it was easier to please the man. She had chosen safety by betraying her humanity and moral principles. Because he desired her, she could pay the price with nothing more than her flesh—and for that she felt a miserable kind of relief.
That was why her hands did not stop even after every layer had fallen, leaving only her pale underwear.
……
Boyeon lowered her head and unhooked her bra. Her large breasts, freed from their confinement, swayed heavily. She slid off the final piece of fabric that had covered her most private place.
She stood completely naked. Her ivory limbs, the dramatic curve of her waist, the round swell of her hips, and the smooth, hairless mound between her thighs were all exposed without reservation.
“Hah…”
The man who had remained silent until now swept her long hair— which had been half-covering her breasts—behind her back. The veined back of his hand grazed across them as though scratching an itch. Even that light touch made her shudder violently. Her full, teardrop-shaped breasts quivered invitingly, pale and soft.
He had assumed she would be nothing but skin and bones, but the gentle curves were surprisingly lush. His gaze, assessing the offered sacrifice, was icy. Even as the silence stretched, Boyeon could not meet his eyes; she simply trembled. Though it was her own body, she dared not cover or hide it. She had to endure his shameless stare as it roamed over every inch of her bare skin until he was satisfied.
The shower hissed on. Dokyung shed his own clothes and stepped beneath the spray. Foul streaks of blood rinsed from his skin.
“Get in my arms.”
His gesture was the same one might use to call a dog. Boyeon glanced up at him instinctively, then quickly lowered her head. After a moment of restless fidgeting, she moved forward on her own and pressed herself into his embrace.
“Ah…!”
His hand, slick with hot water, wrapped around the small of her back. It traced downward along the flowing streams, then seized the soft, plump curve of her ass.