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It was shaping up to be the worst day of her life. No—scratch that. Absolutely, unequivocally the worst.
(And if she didn't make it through the next few hours, her story would just be lost forever in the carnage.)
Of all the terrible, soul-crushing times to go into labor, sitting alone on the cold tile of a closed chicken shop during a full-blown crisis was undeniably the worst possible timing in human history. And then came the monsters. Out of every bizarre catastrophe the universe could have thrown at her, it just had to be flesh-eating zombies.
A sudden, terrifying outbreak. No working phone. No sign of police or ambulances. trapped behind a flimsy glass storefront. Every single piece of evidence was shouting the exact same truth: today was a total, unmitigated nightmare.
Stepping outside was completely out of the question. The streets were an absolute war zone, choked with snarling, infected ghouls sprinting after anything that moved. What if her frantic movements drew one to the shop window? What if a stray bloodcurdling scream shattered the thin pane of glass keeping her hidden?
No way. Not happening.
"Shh... it's okay, little one," she cooed softly, her voice trembling as she cradled the tiny, warm bundle tightly against her chest, rocking back and forth on the floor behind the service counter. "Mommy's right here. I'm not gonna let anything touch you, okay? I promise."
It was insane to think about how fast everything had spiraled out of control. Just yesterday, her biggest worry had been avoiding the judgmental stares in the school hallway. That single, foolish night—a stupid high school party, way too much cheap alcohol, and a complete lapse in judgment—had resulted in an unplanned pregnancy that turned her world upside down. She had felt so utterly alone, abandoned by everyone, carrying a secret that made her an outcast.
Without a working phone to check the local news or social media, everyone in the neighborhood had been completely blind to the nightmare brewing just a few blocks away. If she hadn't ducked into this restaurant to catch her breath when the early contractions hit, she would have walked right out the front gates at the end of the school day, stepping blindly straight into the jaws of the horde waiting outside.
That thought made her blood run ice-cold.
She looked down at the tiny face resting against her jacket. The world outside had completely collapsed into blood and madness, but inside this dark, quiet corner behind the deep fryers, she had something entirely new to fight for. She was terrified out of her mind, but as she gently stroked her baby's soft head, one thing became crystal clear: no matter how dark it got out there, she wasn't alone anymore.
A soft, musical laugh spilled past her lips. And then another, bubbling up from deep in her chest before she could stop it.
That strategy hadn't worked at all at first—trying to stay quiet had only made the sudden urge to laugh ten times harder to suppress.
"I'm so sorry," she said quickly, ducking her head behind her sweater sleeve as her cheeks burned red. "Coming here tonight was probably a terrible idea."
"Hey, no worries at all. What's so funny?" the guy asked, and the calm, easygoing tone in his voice made Hee-su instinctively relax. She looked up through her eyelashes and saw that he didn't look angry or annoyed at all—just genuinely amused by her sudden outburst.
She offered him a small, sheepish smile, and for some reason, that simple expression pulled a hilariously goofy, wide grin right out of him. That was the point of no return; for the next few minutes, they couldn't even manage to get their silly giggles back under control. Every time one of them tried to clear their throat and look serious, they'd make eye contact and instantly set each other off all over again.
"So, do I get to know the joke, or am I just entertaining company?" the guy asked, leaning his elbow on the high counter with a playful smirk.
It was really cute, actually—the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he teased her.
"I think you're just entertaining company," she agreed, her smile finally settling into something warm and comfortable.
Having another drink sounded really good right about now. In fact, having more drinks sounded exceptionally good if it meant keeping this light, effortless feeling going a little longer.
Despite how nervous she had been walking in through the front doors an hour ago, this was starting to feel like it could become a very, very good night.
Looking back on it now, the sheer regret was almost comical. The entire encounter hadn't even been worth the stress—the chemistry was clunky, the whole thing felt rushed, and to be completely honest, the sex hadn’t even been that good. It was just a frantic, awkward mistake fueled by cheap alcohol and a desperate desire to feel less invisible for a single night.
Now, sitting in the dim, drafty backroom of the restaurant with a newborn cradled against her ribs, the absurdity of how much she had panicked over it earlier made her want to shake her past self. She had spent weeks agonizing over what people at school would say, terrified that photos or stupid rumors from that night would spread through group chats like wildfire.
(Maybe in the middle of a literal apocalypse, people would finally have bigger things to worry about than high school gossip. Maybe those stupid texts would even get deleted and forgotten forever in the carnage.)
None of those trivial fears mattered anymore. The rumors, the judgment, the ruined reputation—it all felt like a lifetime ago, completely erased by the reality of the blood-stained windows outside. The only thing that mattered now was keeping her baby warm, staying silent, and surviving until the sun came up.
The subtle changes in her body over the past few months hadn’t gone unnoticed, but she had spent weeks desperately pretending it was all in her head—just stress, or a delayed cycle, or anything else that didn't shatter her life into a million pieces.
Which was obviously what she kept telling herself every single morning in front of the mirror.
...Except this time, the cold, terrifying reality had finally caught up with her.
Going to a clinic to get a proper medical checkup or a formal test had been completely out of the question. No way. The idea of sitting in a waiting room in her school uniform, facing a doctor who would ask for her parents' contact information, made her stomach twist into nauseating knots. So she had stayed silent, carrying the growing weight all on her own, while the boy from that blurry, regretful party went on with his life completely oblivious to the fact that they had made a child together. He’d probably forgotten her name by the next morning, never suspecting for a single second that a single mistake had linked them forever.
(Abortion was out of the question anyway, not with how far along she had let things slip while hiding in denial. But keeping the secret locked away seemed like the only way forward. It was for the best—for her future, for his, and for any chance of keeping her life from falling apart entirely.)
When the contractions first started hitting in sharp, terrifying waves, panic completely took over. She scrambled through a nearby pharmacy and a bargain department store, frantically spending every last bill in her wallet on basic medical supplies, sterile wipes, and a pack of soft baby clothes, hiding the plastic bags deep inside her oversized backpack. Driven by sheer instinct, she ducked into a quiet public restroom at the edge of the commercial district, locking herself inside a stall as the agonizing labor took over.
Hours later, dazed, bleeding, and trembling from exhaustion, she stared down at the tiny, crying infant in her lap. The weight of reality hit her like a physical blow. She couldn't do this. She was a kid herself, homeless, broke, and terrified.
With tears streaming down her bruised cheeks, she carefully wrapped the newborn in a soft fleece blanket, laid the small bundle gently on the covered toilet lid, and backed out of the stall. She told herself someone else would find the baby. Someone with a real home, a stable job, and a life that wasn't a complete disaster. Someone who could actually give this child a future.
She turned her back, unlocked the main restroom door, and began the hollow, numb walk toward the bus stop to head home.
She didn't even make it across the street.
A sudden, deafening screech of tires shattered the afternoon air as a patrol car blew through the intersection, spinning wildly out of control. The heavy vehicle flipped onto its side, sliding at lethal speed straight toward the sidewalk where she stood. Driven by pure survival instinct, Hee-su dropped to the pavement and threw herself flat under the high undercarriage of a parked delivery van just as the patrol car slammed violently into the curb directly above her.
Dust and shattered glass rained down around her. Before she could even process the near-miss, a couple of frantic bystanders rushed over, reaching under the van frame to grab her arms and pull her out from the wreckage.
"Hey! Are you hit?! Can you stand?!" a man shouted, pulling her to her feet.
Before she could answer, the rear door of the overturned police cruiser was kicked violently off its hinges. Two blood-soaked officers and a hand-cuffed prisoner—whose jaw was practically unhinged and dripping with thick, dark fluid—crawled out from the metal wreckage. They didn't look injured; they looked ravenous.
Without a sound of human pain, the zombified prisoner lunged sideways, tackling the man who had just saved Hee-su. The horror unfolded in a split second as the creature tore into the man's stomach, disembowelment happening right before her eyes as screams of horror erupted all across the street. The two undead officers swarmed the remaining crowd, biting viciously into arms and necks as total, bloody chaos engulfed the block.
Hee-su froze, her heart hammering against her ribs so hard it felt like it would burst. The world was ending. The city was collapsing into a nightmare of blood and teeth.
And she had left her baby alone in a bathroom stall.
"No," she gasped, the numbness instantly vanishing, replaced by a surge of fierce, terrifying adrenaline.
She didn't hesitate. Turning away from the carnage spilling across the boulevard, Hee-su sprinted straight back toward the public park restroom, bursting through the doors and scooping the crying infant up into her arms, holding the bundle tight against her chest.
Holding her child close, she burst back out into the light and ran blindly into the heart of the city, dodging running crowds, crashing cars, and snapping jaws—determined to survive the apocalypse that had just claimed the world outside.
The heavy glass door clicked shut behind her, the solid lock turning into place with a definitive, comforting thunk.
Safe. At least for now, completely safe from those flesh-eating monsters roaming the blood-stained boulevard.
Hee-su slumped against the wooden interior frame, her knees giving out as she slid down onto the polished floorboards. Her breath came in ragged, burning gasps, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs. Slowly, her eyes adjusted to the warm, dim lighting of the dining room. She took in the chalkboard menu on the wall, the stacked plastic chairs, and the giant, colorful mascot cartoon painted near the counter.
Cheong-san Chicken.
Was this really it? Was this the place her classmate's family always talked about in the school hallway? She had walked past the neon sign a hundred times on her way home, but she had never actually stepped inside. It was just a small, family-run restaurant, tucked away on a quiet corner—a completely ordinary place that had suddenly become her sanctuary in the middle of a literal warzone.
She unzipped her oversized jacket just a fraction, creating a warm, protected pocket where the tiny bundle rested securely against her chest.
"Hey there," she cooed softly, her voice barely a thread in the quiet restaurant. She looked down to see that her newborn daughter was awake, her tiny dark eyes fixed intently on Hee-su's face, watching her as if she were the most fascinating, unbelievable thing in the entire world.
A fragile, quiet smile broke through the dried blood and grime on Hee-su's cheeks.
"We made it, sweet girl," she whispered gently, reaching down with a trembling finger to let the baby's miniature hand wrap tightly around her pinky. "I know it's scary outside, and I know Mommy has no idea what she's doing... but I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to protect you. No matter what."
The little girl let out a tiny, soft coo, her tiny chest rising and falling in a steady, peaceful rhythm.
Outside the heavy glass, the distant, terrible sounds of sirens and shrieks continued to echo down the avenue. But inside the quiet sanctuary of the chicken shop, wrapped in her mother's arms, the baby fell back into a calm sleep—completely safe, warm, and happy.
The overwhelming silence inside the darkened restaurant was almost heavier than the chaos outside. Sitting on the cold floor behind the counter, staring out at the empty tables and the blood-smeared street beyond, a sudden wave of isolation hit Hee-su like a physical blow. It was terrifying—a suffocating feeling that the two of them were the only human beings left alive in the entire city, and that it was only a matter of agonizing time before the creatures outside found them and they died, too.
No. She drew a sharp, deliberate breath, her fingers tightening protective instincts around the bundle in her lap. Which was absolutely not going to happen. She hadn't survived a crash, dodged a street full of snapping jaws, and run three miles through hell just to give up in a chicken shop.
Looking down into the tiny, peaceful face resting against her sweater, Hee-su felt her racing pulse begin to slow. The world had ended, but her daughter’s life was just beginning, and that meant she needed to do things properly. She needed to pick the perfect name. Something strong. Something bright enough to cut through all this darkness.
"How about Eun-ji?" she whispered softly, tracing the baby's tiny eyebrow with the tip of her finger. "Or maybe... Su-bin? You look like a Su-bin."
The newborn let out a tiny, soft sigh in her sleep, her nose twitching slightly.
A small, genuine chuckle escaped Hee-su's lips—the first real smile she had felt in months. Hey, maybe there was actually a silver lining to the zombies appearing out of nowhere. No nosy neighbors asking who the father was. No guidance counselors giving her disappointed looks in the hallway. No paperwork, no judgment, and no unwanted opinions from people who never cared about her anyway. The old world with all its cruel expectations had burned away, leaving just the two of them to build something new.
"See?" Hee-su cooed softly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to the baby's forehead. "At least nobody's going to tell me I'm too young to raise you now. It's just you and me against the monsters, little girl. And I'd say we're doing pretty good so far."