Chapter 269

Jin-sook stood still in the center of the crumbling apartment building. The faint sound of his breath mixed with the distant groans from the streets below. It was like the world had folded in on itself. The once vibrant city of Pyongyang, the heart of North Korea, now lay broken—hushed streets, shattered glass, bloodstains everywhere. A rusted old TV in the corner of the room emitted static. He couldn't tell if it was still broadcasting or if the power was on its last legs.

North Korea had never been a place for hope, but now, even hope was gone. Jin-sook was just a man trapped in a dying country, watching as everything turned to something worse than it had ever been before.

Outside, the world had fallen apart. People in the west, in China, in Japan, were screaming, running. The virus was everywhere. Not even the government could pretend to have control anymore. They could only try to survive in their own way, through whatever means they had left.

The news had first come through the radio broadcasts a few days ago, but nobody in Pyongyang cared much about what came out of Seoul or Washington. The message was simple: a virus, turning people into creatures that weren't even close to human anymore. At first, they called it a 'plague,' but then they stopped calling it anything at all. It was too much. The numbers climbed too quickly.

Jin-sook had a few supplies left—canned food, water, a blanket—but nothing of real worth. He tried not to think about the other people he had known. Those who had been in the same apartment complex, the ones he used to see when he ran errands or walked to the market. Now, the hallway was empty, the silence too loud.

There were no neighbors now. There was no one to share the quiet with. He hadn't seen anyone for hours, maybe longer. The streets were silent except for the occasional scream, the hollow sounds of footsteps in the distance.

He had lost track of time after the first few days. It felt like the world had been on pause. But the truth was it wasn't on pause—it was ending. And it was doing so quietly, as if everyone had simply decided to stop being alive.

When the first infection began to spread, it didn't seem like anything to worry about. Just some sickness that made people feverish, made them shake and cough. But when the bodies started rising, when they began to attack anyone still breathing, that was when it hit everyone. There was no way to stop it. No cure, no treatment. The virus spread faster than anyone could react.

The government tried to keep people in the dark, hiding the true extent of the infection. They locked down cities, sealed the borders. But it didn't matter. The infection didn't care about borders. The dead didn't care who was in charge.

Jin-sook took one last look at the empty streets from his window. The few survivors in Pyongyang were gone now, either killed or swallowed up by the chaos. In the distance, a burning building collapsed with a deafening crash, the sound echoing in the still air.

His stomach growled. He needed to eat, but he knew he had only enough food to last another day, maybe two. And then what? There was no way out. The roads were blocked off by soldiers who had disappeared long ago, if they hadn't already been killed. A few days ago, Jin-sook had heard the sound of gunfire in the distance. That had stopped too.

He rubbed his eyes, forcing himself to move. He needed to find more food. He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep going. It wasn't just the hunger. It was the emptiness. The knowledge that this was it. There was no future. He didn't know how it had come to this. He didn't know how things had gone so wrong. But it didn't matter now. Nothing did. Not anymore.

Jin-sook grabbed his coat and stepped into the hallway, eyes darting across the dim corridor. The door at the end was cracked open. It had been left like that for days. The bloodstains outside were still fresh. He didn't want to look at them. He didn't want to see it. But he couldn't stop himself. He didn't want to know what had happened to the others, but he needed to.

He walked carefully, stepping over broken glass and wrecked furniture. As he approached the door, he could hear something on the other side. A low, shuffling sound, like someone dragging themselves across the floor.

"Please… not now," he whispered to himself, but it didn't matter. The door creaked open slowly, and the stench hit him first—rotting flesh, the sickly sweet smell of decay. He covered his nose with his sleeve and squinted into the room.

The room was a mess. Chairs overturned. A smashed window. But there was something else. A man, or what had been a man, was crawling across the floor, its back hunched, limbs twisted unnaturally. His skin was pale, almost gray, and his eyes—no, they weren't eyes anymore. They were hollow, empty, searching. But there was no life left.

Jin-sook froze. His breath caught in his throat. The creature had once been a neighbor, someone who had shared an apartment on the floor below. Now, he was something else—something beyond what anyone could have imagined. The thing looked up at him, the vacant eyes staring right through him, and then it moved. Slow at first, but then faster.

Jin-sook didn't wait. He slammed the door shut and backed away, stumbling over the broken glass. The pounding in his chest was deafening. His heartbeat was the only sound he could hear now.

He ran down the hallway, not looking back, not stopping. The building was coming apart. He could hear other noises now—the same shuffling, the same dragging, the unmistakable sound of something alive, but not human, moving in the dark.

The city was worse than it had ever been. Bodies piled up on the streets. People walked with vacant eyes, their flesh decaying, barely recognizable as human anymore. And the worst part was, Jin-sook wasn't sure if he was going to make it out of this either. No one was. But he couldn't help himself. He didn't want to die like this.

He pushed open the door to the roof, hoping to get some air. The sun was setting, casting an eerie red light across the city. But it wasn't beautiful. It wasn't peaceful. It was just another reminder that the world was ending.

He looked out at the horizon, the cold wind biting at his face. Pyongyang was dead. The world was dead. And he was going to die with it. There was no escape. There were no more answers. He was stuck in this broken city, surrounded by the broken world.

And then, he heard it. The soft shuffling, the dragging steps. A few feet behind him. He turned, too late.

The thing that had once been his neighbor was there. But there were others too. Dozens of them, emerging from the stairwell, from the alleyways, their eyes staring, hungry.

Jin-sook didn't run this time. He didn't fight. He just stood there, his eyes closed, waiting. Waiting for the end.

They took him. And when it was over, there was nothing left. No memory. No trace of who he had been. Just another body, lost in the mess of a dying world.

The city carried on, empty and silent. The virus didn't care. It was still there, waiting for the next victim to stumble into its grasp. The world had died, and it would keep on dying—quietly, slowly, in the shadows.