WHISPERS OF RESOLVE: THE ROAD TO GYERYONG

“You can’t deny it forever, mister… Juyoung.” Ji-Hoon’s voice was calm but firm, cutting through the tension like a sharp blade. His eyes, though clouded with pain from his injured arm, were focused on the man before him.

Juyoung’s jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides. “What do you know…?” he muttered bitterly. “You’re just a student.”

Ji-Hoon didn’t respond immediately. His gaze flicked down to Juyoung’s trembling fingertips, the small, involuntary movements betraying the anger and turmoil boiling beneath his surface. Ji-Hoon softened his tone. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “So tell me.”

Juyoung hesitated, his shoulders stiffening as if the very idea of sharing his pain was unbearable. “Why should I?” he asked slowly, his voice laced with both defiance and vulnerability.

Ji-Hoon tilted his head, observing him carefully. “Don’t you need someone to listen?” he asked. “And I need an explanation for all this nonsense you just pulled.”

Juyoung’s lips parted slightly, but no words came out. He looked away, his eyes darting to the ground as if searching for a response.

“I…” He started, his voice faltering.

Ji-Hoon raised an eyebrow, his tone light but edged with sarcasm. “Then again, I’m not going to force you. If you want to keep all that bottled up and continue acting like a lunatic, that’s on you.” He shrugged, wincing slightly from the pain in his arm.

Juyoung’s head snapped up at that, his lips pressing into a thin line. The tension in his jaw eased, just barely. “It was three months back,” he said finally, his voice low, almost a whisper.

Ji-Hoon’s expression didn’t change, but the slight tilt of his head and the way his eyes met Juyoung’s spoke volumes: I’m listening.

Juyoung exhaled shakily, the words clearly weighing heavily on him before they even left his mouth.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Juyoung's narration

“Cecile, where are you, sweetheart?” I remembered calling out to her, my voice filled with affection and longing. Back then, Cecile and I were deeply in love. She had moved in with me after our engagement, and our life together felt like the beginning of a dream. Everything was perfect.

We were preparing for our wedding, planned to take place just after her sister’s graduation. Only a few months remained, and the excitement in my heart was immeasurable. Cecile seemed just as thrilled. I could see it in her glowing smile, in the way she spoke about our future.

I worked tirelessly at my company, driven by the thought of building a comfortable life for us. My efforts paid off when I got promoted. It felt like every piece of our future was falling into place. Cecile, too, was thriving. She had recently started her own small apparel business and was gaining traction. We were unstoppable.

Or so I thought.

The first crack in our perfect world appeared shortly after my promotion. Cecile mentioned she had an important meeting with an investor who was interested in her business. She told me she might be back late. It didn’t bother me at first—after all, it was for her dream. But when the clock struck nine and there was still no sign of her, a gnawing sense of unease crept in.

I called her, but her phone went unanswered. My worry grew unbearable. I decided to drive to her company, thinking she might still be there. But when I arrived, her colleagues informed me she had gone to a club with the investor and his friends to “expand business relations.”

My stomach twisted. It felt… wrong. Without hesitation, I drove to the club.

The scene that greeted me when I stepped inside shattered my world. There she was—my Cecile, my fiancée—sitting close to the investor. His hand rested casually on her thigh, his arm draped possessively around her neck. And then, to my horror, their lips met.

For a moment, time stood still. My brain struggled to process what I was seeing. Was this real? My hands shook as I rubbed my eyes, desperate to wake up from what I hoped was a nightmare. But no matter how hard I tried, the image remained. It wasn’t a dream.

I left the club in a daze, my heart pounding painfully against my ribs. The drive home was a blur. Questions spiraled in my mind. Why would she do this? Was this a misunderstanding? Had I done something wrong?

When Cecile returned home later that night, she greeted me with a warm hug, as if nothing had happened. I stood frozen, unable to respond. I was upset, sad, choked up—but mostly, I was disgusted. Not just with her, but with myself for still wanting to believe there was an explanation.

I didn’t confront her that night. I couldn’t. But in the days that followed, the truth unraveled. I discovered that this wasn’t an isolated incident. This was how Cecile operated. She seduced investors and secured deals through sponsorships. I realized I was just another pawn in her game, another man she had fooled into believing in her love.

It broke me.

The realization hit like a tidal wave one day when I visited her company unannounced. Everyone there knew. It wasn’t a secret—Cecile’s “business strategies” were an open secret in her circle.

When I confronted her, she didn’t deny it. She didn’t cry or apologize. Instead, she shrugged, her tone chillingly casual.

“It’s business,” she said with a nonchalant wave of her hand. “And they’re not bad people.”

Her words crushed whatever hope I had left. I couldn’t even cry. My emotions felt drained, replaced by a hollow ache in my chest.

And then, as if the universe decided to throw us all into chaos, the pandemic struck. The virus spread like wildfire, turning people into mindless, monstrous creatures. Cecile was one of the first to be infected.

I wasn’t even mad.

I stood there, watching her transformation with a strange sense of detachment. I didn’t feel the relief I thought I would. There was no satisfaction, no justice. All I felt was guilt and sorrow.

I hated myself for it. She had betrayed me, used me, and yet, I felt bad for her. Even after everything, a part of me still mourned the woman I thought she was—the woman I had loved with all my heart.

And so, as I stood in the ruins of our life together, I realized that the pain she left behind would haunt me far more than the monsters outside ever could.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Charyeong’s gaze lingered on Juyoung, her eyes filled with a quiet sympathy as she absorbed every word of his story. She bit her lip, hesitant yet unable to hide the emotion flickering across her face. “I see…” she said softly, her tone almost gentle.

Juyoung shuffled his feet, his shoulders stiff and tense. He avoided her gaze, his discomfort evident. “Don’t… don’t look at me like that,” he muttered, his voice strained.

Charyeong flinched slightly but remained silent, her expression unwavering.

Ji-Hoon stepped forward, his voice firm and tinged with irritation. “You know,” he began, “forget about it. She didn’t even feel the slightest remorse. Why should you?”

“I know,” Juyoung said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I tried…”

Ji-Hoon narrowed his eyes. “It’s your choice. Your decision. But don’t think for a second that I’m forgiving you for what you tried to do to Charyeong.”

Juyoung nodded solemnly. “Yeah. Why would you? I wouldn’t even forgive myself either.”

Ji-Hoon crossed his arms, his expression softening ever so slightly. “...Thanks.”

Juyoung looked up briefly, his lips twitching into a faint, sad smile. “But… uh, Ji-Hoon, was it? Thanks for stepping in. I would’ve regretted it my whole life if I’d actually done something that disgusting to your friend.”

Ji-Hoon’s jaw tightened. “It still angers me to think that a grown man like you would even consider doing something like that.”

“I know. Sorry won’t cut it, and honestly, I don’t think your friend wants to hear my apology either.”

Before Juyoung could say more, Charyeong spoke up, her voice calm but resolute. “Sir… I really, really am a bit too scared to even look at men right now because of what you attempted. There’s just no way I feel like forgiving you. But… you had a story.” She took a deep breath, glancing briefly at Ji-Hoon and Jay before continuing. “The world already seems like it’s at its end. So, I guess I’ll just let you off the hook for now. But when we reach the military base together, I’m going to file a complaint. You can count on that.”

Juyoung’s face burned with shame, and he nodded silently, his shoulders slumping.

Ji-Hoon shot Juyoung a sharp look. “Yes, so stay safe until then.”

The man nodded again, relief and embarrassment flickering across his features. He sighed heavily, his breath shaky, before suddenly stopping them as they began to walk away. “Uh… Ji-Hoon,” he called hesitantly, his tone awkward. “I think you should try Gyeryong first. Maybe the rescue operation there isn’t completed yet.”

Ji-Hoon nodded but said nothing. Jay answered instead, his voice clipped. “Sure. We’ll head there.”

“Good luck,” Juyoung muttered, his tone heavy with self-loathing.

Haejun approached Ji-Hoon cautiously, his face etched with guilt. He bowed deeply. “I’m sorry for everything. For what I did and for what Juyoung did.”

Dongho followed suit, bowing to Jay. “Me too. I’m sorry. We… we crossed a line.”

The fourth man, who had remained unseen until now, appeared from inside the building, carrying a stack of boxes in his arms. His face was filled with quiet determination as he stepped forward. “It’s not much,” he said, his voice steady. “But for what my friends did… this is all I can offer.” He held out the boxes toward them.

The students glanced at one another, hesitant. Jay spoke first, his tone wary. “We can’t take this. You don’t have enough for yourselves.”

Before they could refuse further, the men shoved the boxes into their bags, their actions rushed but insistent.

Ji-Hoon frowned, his gaze shifting between the boxes and the men. “But what about you guys? What will you eat?”

“There are convenience stores around here,” the fourth man replied, his tone calm. “And… the population of those things in our city is a lot less than where you’re coming from.”

Ji-Hoon hesitated, but Charyeong bowed deeply. “Right. Thank you. Really.”

The men waved their hands awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable with the gratitude. “Just go,” Juyoung muttered, his voice barely audible. “Be on your way already.”

With a final nod, the students turned and began walking. The air felt lighter as they left, but the weight of the encounter lingered in their minds. Behind them, the men stood watching, silent and still, until the group disappeared from view.

The sun had begun to dip below the horizon by the time they reached the bus. Its battered frame stood against the fading light, a fragile beacon of hope amidst the chaos. Minji and Young were pacing nervously outside, their faces pale with worry.

The moment they spotted the three figures approaching in the distance, Minji and Young broke into a run. Relief washed over their features as they closed the gap, pulling Ji-Hoon, Jay, and Charyeong into tight, desperate hugs.

“Thank god you’re safe!” Minji exclaimed, her voice trembling with emotion.

Young nodded fervently, his hands gripping Jay’s shoulders as though anchoring him to reality. “We thought something had happened to you. What took you so long?”

As they settled into the relative safety of the bus, Charyeong recounted everything—the confrontation with Juyoung and his group, the tense moments, the threats, and the eventual resolution. Her voice was steady, but her words carried the weight of everything they had endured.

Minji’s face darkened as the story unfolded, her hands curling into fists. “Let me at them!” she shouted, her voice vibrating with fury. “I’ll finish them myself—”

Charyeong placed a gentle hand on Minji’s arm, her tone calm yet firm. “I’m fine, Eunnie… let them be. Everyone has a story, something they regret. And honestly, we’ve got bigger things to worry about with zombies crawling all over the world.”

Minji’s anger simmered, but she reluctantly nodded, leaning back with a heavy sigh.

Later, as the group rested, Jay sidled up to Ji-Hoon, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “By the way, dude… what was all that drama about?”

Ji-Hoon blinked, feigning confusion. “Wh-what drama?”

“You know what I mean,” Jay continued, a mischievous glint in his eye. “All that ‘he’s right here, he’s very mad’ stuff. Charyeong’s boyfriend?”

Ji-Hoon’s face flushed, his ears burning as he stammered, “Ahaha… that… that was just defense. Nothing serious.”

Jay smirked but didn’t press further. “Sure, sure,” he said with a wink before wandering over to Young, leaving Ji-Hoon muttering under his breath.

“Thanks for the help, Ji-Hoon.” Charyeong’s voice cut through his thoughts, soft but sincere.

Ji-Hoon looked up, his expression flustered. “Yeah. Sure.”

Charyeong hesitated, then added, “And all the things you said—”

Ji-Hoon interrupted quickly, his voice louder than necessary. “Th-that kick was epic, Ch-Charyeong!”

She chuckled, the tension easing from her shoulders. “Thanks~ I was just getting tired of waiting. I thought we could solve it without violence and all that blah blah. But they wouldn’t listen.”

Ji-Hoon raised an eyebrow, his tone playful. “Right, sure~ I was about to get killed, you know.”

“Hey!” she shot back with mock indignation. “Adrenaline rush doesn’t happen just whenever!”

“Excuses, woman. Excuses~”

Charyeong smirked, crossing her arms. “Heh. Are we heading to Gyeryong now?”

“Oh yeah,” Ji-Hoon replied, leaning back against the bus seat. “It’s going to be a long ride.”

The group shared a moment of quiet camaraderie, their laughter and banter a brief reprieve from the horrors that awaited them beyond the bus. The road to Gyeryong would be dangerous, but for now, they clung to each other, drawing strength from the fragile bonds they had built.