Chapter 1

The Zombie Lives in the Underground Prison

No one knows exactly when the baseless rumor began circulating. It quietly slipped into gossip, blending seamlessly into everyday life until it became a popular urban legend. Among the children in the small survivor village, knowing about it was practically a requirement to avoid being called a fool. Yet, the real punchline, as the villagers would often remark, was that there wasn’t even a “prison” in the village, let alone an “underground prison.”

Most adults heard it and dismissed it with a laugh, but children were a different story.

The kids would gather to search the village, convinced they could find the fabled underground prison. Some hypothesized that it was hidden in plain sight, just waiting to be discovered.

Even Jaekani, who didn’t have many friends, had heard about it. That alone spoke volumes about how widespread the rumor had become.

Like most of the villagers, Jaekani dismissed the story as nonsense, laughing it off. Still, he sometimes entertained the idea that there might be some kernel of truth fueling the baseless rumors.

For instance, why “underground prison” instead of just “prison”? And why specifically “zombies” and not some other creature?

His father also claimed there was no underground level in the prison, but Jaekani couldn’t help wondering if there might be a similar space somewhere nearby. And why zombies? Could it be that there was a humanoid creature locked away somewhere?

Whenever he had a moment of downtime, he would let his mind wander. But in their bustling village, even a small community like theirs demanded plenty of work, leaving Jaekani little time to daydream. Especially since Jaekani, who worked twice as much as other kids his age to help his father, rarely had any free time.

Yet, one day, under the scorching sun that burned his forehead and nose, the rumor resurfaced in his mind.

* * *

That day, Jaekani was once again helping his father with his work.

Every villager had their own responsibilities, even the children. Most kids were assigned chores suited to their age, but Jaekani was an exception. He had to shoulder the burden of his father’s tasks as well, since his father often shirked his duties due to his addiction.

Jaekani’s father was well-known in the village.

He wasn’t known for his contributions, though—more like as a reminder of how far dead weight could coast in a collective society.

Of course, if he had been completely useless, he would have been the first to be exiled from the village. But since he managed to scrape by—whether by overworking his son or relying on favors—he avoided complete irrelevance. He wasn’t utterly without value, at least in terms of labor.

However, Jaekani knew all too well how the village council dealt with people who were deemed unproductive. To avoid that fate, he often sought out and completed his father’s tasks for him. It had become such a routine that the village slaughterhouse would call for Jaekani directly, skipping over his father entirely.

That day was no different. After finishing his morning classes, Jaekani headed straight to the slaughterhouse.

He already guessed his father was off somewhere, intoxicated again. What exactly his father was addicted to, Jaekani didn’t know.

A few months ago, a stash of jet fuel had been discovered at an abandoned airfield, and people began using it to brew liquor. The concoction was risky enough to potentially cause blindness, but the villagers drank it without hesitation. Among those stumbling around in drunken stupors, inevitably causing trouble, was Jaekani’s father.

Because Jaekani continued to take on his father’s workload, his father could afford to keep drinking himself into oblivion. Even if his father were exiled, Jaekani wouldn’t face the same punishment. But as long as a few scoldings could keep his father around, Jaekani was content to endure it. Just like today.

“Jaekani, look at this! The drainage is clogged again. Are you sure you fixed it properly?”

“I checked it earlier.”

For the third time this week.

Jaekani was certain he had fixed the drainage pipes.

The issues with the slaughterhouse’s facilities always varied—old infrastructure, septic tank failures, landslides, or power outages. But never before had the same problem cropped up repeatedly for a whole week.

“Don’t just patch it up—fix it properly.”

The disgruntled worker barked.

Jaekani nodded silently.

He guessed this wasn’t a problem a novice like himself could solve with a few adjustments, but he didn’t argue.

Taking a scolding and sitting idle wasn’t an option. Wearing stained white rubber gloves, Jaekani awkwardly rose to his feet.

In a slaughterhouse that demanded physical strength, only young adult men worked there. With his small frame, Jaekani wasn’t much help in the heavy labor. Instead, he was given the tedious, unpleasant tasks no one else wanted to do, including anything involving waste management.

The slaughterhouse depended on water usage, so proper drainage and wastewater systems were essential. Determined to fix the issue this time, Jaekani wandered around the area until he located a shabby building where the drainage systems were housed.

Still wearing his dirty gloves and boots coated in filth, Jaekani made his way toward the building.

Calling it a facility was generous—it was little more than an abandoned structure, with only the slaughterhouse’s systems connected to it.

Most buildings in the village were relics of a time before the apocalypse and the advent of creatures like the ones now roaming the land. Jaekani didn’t understand why the infrastructure was set up like this. Other abandoned structures in the village were linked to plumbing or electrical systems, but this one connected solely to the slaughterhouse.

From a distance, the building hadn’t seemed this decrepit.

Unlike the sun that pierced like a blade, the eerie chill around the area made Jaekani glance around nervously. The noise of the bustling slaughterhouse—workers’ muffled breaths, rubber boots squeaking against the tiled floor—had faded.

The slaughterhouse was a place of paradoxical vitality and death, always noisy, always alive with activity.

But as Jaekani ventured deeper into the facility, an unsettling silence enveloped him. It felt as if someone had cut the world’s sound off entirely.

The sky stretched cloudless like an undersea trench, while leaves scraped against each other in an ominous cacophony that resembled the wings of locusts. The tension crawling toward him from afar felt like a harbinger of misfortune.

Jaekani, his brow furrowed, scanned his surroundings warily. Not a single human presence could be felt.

Though he wasn’t easily frightened, a primal sense of dread began pressing at him, like nails digging into his skin. The feeling was unnerving and intangible, like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

That’s when the old rumor, lodged in the back of the children’s minds for so long, resurfaced:

‘There’s a zombie in the underground prison.’

Absurd. Ridiculous.

But as Jaekani’s gaze trailed the crumbling edges of the building, his eyes caught on a set of rusted rebar protruding from the ground beneath the structure. It suddenly made sense why such a rumor might exist.

The rebar poking out from the collapsed concrete walls resembled prison bars.

If anyone found something unusual here—like a strange creature—it wasn’t hard to imagine how the rumors might have started.

As if hypnotized, Jaekani took a step forward.

Had the sunlight been less harsh, he might not have dared to approach.

A cold wind swept in, carrying dust that trailed along the ground like a reaper’s black cloak.

Far away, the sound of gunfire echoed. Perhaps a creature. Or maybe an intruder. Normally, Jaekani would’ve tensed, but the immediate fear in front of him overshadowed everything else. The sound of gunfire faded into irrelevance.

Jaekani used his boot to kick away the loose bricks piled around the rebar. His mud-streaked rubber boots screeched against the rough surface, pushing aside the debris.

A wave of dust and powdered concrete rose like a tide.

Clearing the rubble revealed the edge of what appeared to be a semi-basement space. Jaekani bent forward, peering cautiously into the opening.

The gap was too small to see much, but it was clear the space below was dark and cold.

At some point, someone must have used this area, though imagining what it might’ve been for was almost impossible now.

‘Zombie. Right. Like that’s possible.’

Jaekani had barely taken a step back when he heard it.

“Hello.”

Ah.

His eyes widened in shock.

The blood in his veins seemed to evaporate, leaving his limbs numb. His heart clenched as if it had been stomped on, his breath caught in his throat. Without a scream, he stumbled back in pure terror.

A chunk of concrete under his boot shifted, sending him tumbling awkwardly to the ground. He landed hard on his back, staring upward as if he’d just seen a predator’s gleaming eyes.

“You scare easily,” the voice said.

Jaekani’s heartbeat pounded in his ears like a drum.

Out of the shadows, it emerged like moonlight cutting through darkness.

Gazing into the gloom, Jaekani saw pale fingers wrapped around the rusted rebar. They were unnaturally white and slender, as if crafted from porcelain.

“… The zombie in the underground prison.”