First and last kiss.

The air inside the construction site was thick with the scent of sawdust, cold concrete, and the metallic tang of blood. Outside, the sky was a bruised purple, a grim precursor to the fire that was about to rain down from the heavens. The military’s drones had been buzzing like angry hornets for the last hour, signaling the end of Hyosan.

Lee Cheong-san stood at the forefront of the group, his chest heaving. His white Pro-spec sneakers were stained with grime, and his knuckles were raw. Beside him, Gyeong-su shifted his weight, those vibrant red sneakers of his a stark contrast to the grey, skeletal ribs of the unfinished building. Despite the terror of the last few days, Gyeong-su’s presence remained the only thing that kept Cheong-san’s heart from shattering completely.

"Would that idiot ever die?" Dae-su muttered, his voice trembling as he gripped a makeshift weapon.

They all heard it then—a guttural, manic screech echoing through the hollow shafts of the building. It wasn't the mindless moan of a regular zombie. It was sharper, filled with a singular, obsessive hatred.

"Cheong-san!"

The shout ripped through the air, followed by the thunderous thud of a body hitting a plastic tarp. The heavy sheeting was flung aside, and Yoon Gwi-nam stepped into the dim light. His black mullet was matted, his white athletic jacket smeared with filth, and the scar over his empty eye socket looked like a jagged lightning bolt against his pale skin. He looked less like a human and more like a demon spat out from the bowels of the school.

"I found you," Gwi-nam mocked, his lips curling into a jagged, predatory smile.

"Get behind me!" Su-hyeok shouted, stepping forward with his collar untucked and his jaw set in a hard line. He swung at Gwi-nam, but the half-zombie’s strength was supernatural. With a casual shove, Gwi-nam sent Su-hyeok reeling toward the edge of the floor, where the safety railings hadn't yet been installed.

"Su-hyeok!" On-jo screamed.

Mi-jin and Dae-su lunged forward, grabbing Su-hyeok’s blazer and pulling him back from the six-story drop just in time. But the distraction was all Gwi-nam needed. He lunged at Cheong-san like a starved animal.

The fight was a blur of desperate motion. Cheong-san was athletic, but Gwi-nam didn't feel pain, and he didn't tire. They tumbled across the concrete, Cheong-san desperately trying to keep those snapping jaws away from his throat. He felt the sheer power in Gwi-nam’s grip—a force that threatened to snap his radius like a dry twig.

Then, the world went cold.

Gwi-nam’s teeth sank deep into the flesh of Cheong-san’s arm, just above the wrist. Cheong-san let out a strangled cry, the sound muffled by the roar of blood in his ears. He saw the chunk of skin tear away, saw the dark, infected blood bloom across his uniform sleeve.

"No!" Gyeong-su’s voice was a shattered wreck of a sound.

Suddenly, a high-pitched, oscillating frequency tore through the air. To the human students, it was nothing more than a faint hum, but Gwi-nam and Nam-ra collapsed instantly, clutching their heads and screaming in agony. Their heightened senses were being shredded by the military’s sonic emitters.

Cheong-san didn't hesitate. Ignoring the burning fire in his arm, he gathered every ounce of strength he had left and shoved Gwi-nam. The halfbie, disoriented and blinded by the noise, stumbled backward, his red sneakers skidding on the dusty concrete before he plummeted over the edge.

Silence fell over the group, broken only by the distant, rhythmic thumping of the drones. Cheong-san stood alone by the ledge, staring down at his arm. The bite mark was jagged and angry, a death sentence written in teeth and saliva.

"Cheong-san..." Gyeong-su approached him slowly, his hands shaking. "You're okay, hey... You'll be fine, nothing will happen to you. We can... we can fix this."

Cheong-san took a shaky step back, his back hitting a concrete pillar. He looked at Gyeong-su—really looked at him. He saw the tousled hair, the fear in those warm eyes, and the way Gyeong-su was desperately trying to hold onto a reality that was already slipping away.

"Gyeong-su," Cheong-san began, his voice cracking. "I..."

He looked past his best friend. He saw On-jo, her face pale and her eyes brimming with tears she refused to let fall. He saw Su-hyeok, the tough fighter looking small and helpless. He saw Nam-ra, who had finally stopped clutching her ears, looking at him with a profound, tragic understanding.

He knew he wasn't like Nam-ra. He could feel the fever already beginning to itch under his skin, the darkness scratching at the back of his mind. He didn't have much time before the boy who loved Gyeong-su was replaced by a monster.

With trembling fingers, Cheong-san reached for the red name tag pinned to his uniform sweater. He unclipped it, the small piece of plastic feeling like it weighed a hundred pounds. He held it out, his hand bloodied but steady.

"Keep it, please," he murmured, swallowing the lump in his throat.

Gyeong-su stared at the tag, the name *Lee Cheong-san* embroidered in neat, official lettering. A sob broke from Gyeong-su’s throat, but then, with a sudden, fierce resolve, he reached for his own chest. He unclipped his own red tag—*Han Gyeong-su*—and pressed it into Cheong-san’s palm.

"I'm not leaving you," Gyeong-su whispered, his eyes searching Cheong-san’s for any sign of hope.

Cheong-san felt a single tear track through the dust on his cheek. He had spent years wondering when the right time would be to tell Gyeong-su the truth. He had imagined it a thousand ways: in the back of his parents' chicken shop, on the walk home from school, or perhaps during a quiet moment on the roof. He never imagined it would be while they were both covered in the blood of their friends, waiting for a bomb to drop.

He stepped forward, closing the distance. He leaned down and planted a brief, soft kiss on the corner of Gyeong-su’s lips. It tasted of salt and copper, but it was the most real thing he had ever felt.

Then, he pulled Gyeong-su into a crushing embrace, burying his face in the crook of the shorter boy's neck. Gyeong-su clung to him, his fingers digging into the fabric of Cheong-san’s uniform as if he could anchor him to the world of the living.

"I love you," Cheong-san whispered, so low only Gyeong-su could hear.

Before Gyeong-su could respond, before the weight of those words could sink in, Cheong-san pulled away. He pushed Gyeong-su back toward the others.

"Su-hyeok! Take him!" Cheong-san barked, his voice regaining the authority of the leader he had become.

Su-hyeok didn't want to. His eyes were wet, his jaw tight. But he saw the look in Cheong-san’s eyes—the look of a man who had already accepted his fate. Su-hyeok stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Gyeong-su’s chest, pinning his arms to his sides.

"No! Cheong-san! Let me go!" Gyeong-su thrashed, his red sneakers kicking at the air. "We can stay together! Please!"

"Go to the first floor. I'll distract them," Cheong-san ordered, pointing toward the stairwell where the moans of the infected were growing louder. He turned his gaze to Su-hyeok and On-jo. "Keep him safe. Please."

On-jo nodded, a sob finally escaping her. Su-hyeok gave a single, sharp nod of his head, his face a mask of grief.

"Cheong-san!" Gyeong-su’s voice rose to a scream as Su-hyeok began dragging him toward the exit. "Don't do this! Come back!"

Cheong-san didn't look back. He couldn't. If he saw Gyeong-su’s face one more time, his resolve would crumble. He clutched Gyeong-su’s name tag in his left hand, the plastic edges biting into his palm, and turned toward the dark interior of the building.

The zombies were coming. He could hear their clicking joints and their wet, rhythmic breathing. They were blocking the path the others needed to take to get to the safety of the perimeter.

Cheong-san took a deep breath, the air in his lungs feeling like fire. He began to run.

He burst through the construction plastic, his sneakers pounding against the unfinished floorboards. He was a streak of white and green in the gloom.

"Hey! Over here!" he screamed, his voice echoing through the hollow shafts of the school. "Come and get me!"

He swung a metal pipe against a scaffolding pole, the clanging sound ringing out like a dinner bell for the damned. Heads snapped toward him. Pale, clouded eyes fixed on his moving form. Dozens of them began to turn away from the stairwells, lured by the noise of the boy who refused to go quietly.

Cheong-san sprinted up the stairs, leading the horde higher and higher, away from his friends, away from the boy with the red sneakers. His heart was hammering against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat of life in a place defined by death.

He reached the top floor, the wind whistling through the open girders. He could see the lights of the city in the distance, beautiful and indifferent. Below him, he could hear the faint, muffled shouts of his classmates as they made their break for the ground floor. They were moving. They were going to make it.

He leaned against a concrete pillar, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The infection was moving faster now; his vision was beginning to blur at the edges, and a strange, cold hunger was blooming in his gut. But he looked down at the red name tag in his hand.

*Han Gyeong-su.*

He pressed the tag to his lips, a small, sad smile touching his face. He could hear the zombies reaching the landing, their fingers scratching at the concrete.

"Come and get me!" he shouted at the top of his lungs, his voice defiant and clear. "Because today, I'm the happiest kid in this school!"

He wasn't lying. For one brief, shining moment, he had been loved. He had been seen. And he had saved the person who meant the world to him.

As the first of the infected burst onto the roof, Cheong-san stood tall. He wasn't a victim, and he wasn't just a survivor. He was a protector.

The sky above Hyosan suddenly lit up with a blinding, artificial sun. The missiles were coming.

Cheong-san closed his eyes, clutching the red name tag to his chest, and waited for the heat to take him home.