The once "lively" atmosphere in the carriage fell into a strange silence the moment Ian opened the door.
"Jin-hee!" Yong-guk immediately spotted Kim Jin-hee, who was being held in the corner with tear stains in the corners of her eyes. He rushed toward her, but several anxious passengers stopped him.
"Don't come any closer! You… you might already be infected!" a middle-aged man with glasses shouted, his voice trembling despite his bluster.
"Oppa!" Kim Jin-hee broke free from the hand covering her mouth and ran toward Yong-guk.
Ian lifted his hand lightly, and an invisible force flung away the people restraining her. A gust of wind followed, carrying her safely into Yong-guk's arms.
"Yong-guk… sob… sob…" Kim Jin-hee threw herself into Yong-guk's arms, hugging him tightly as if afraid he would disappear if she let go.
"It's all right… it's all right…" he whispered, voice shaking, eyes red with emotion.
For a brief moment, the joy of reunion made them forget the chaos around them.
But the rest of the passengers in Car 15 couldn't take their eyes off Ian.
That dark crimson armor, the menacing claw on his left hand, and the terrifying strength that had just ripped open a train door—he was both terrifying and awe-inspiring.
"W-what is that? Some kind of government secret weapon?"
"Could it be the army's come to rescue us?"
"Looks like… we're saved!"
The whispers spread, and soon the fear in their eyes turned into hope—and even dependence.
After all, in times of despair, even the faintest glimmer of hope becomes blinding.
However, Ian remained rooted in place, not saying a word, just watching them silently.
As the seconds passed, the mood shifted again—from reverence and anticipation to confusion, unease, and eventually… anger.
"Hey, soldier boy? Why aren't you saying anything?" a middle-aged woman snapped impatiently.
Her voice was quiet, but in the hushed carriage, it sounded loud enough for all to hear.
When Ian didn't respond, she grew bolder. "What's wrong with you? We're taxpayers! The army's supposed to protect us!"
"Yeah! We pay so much in taxes every year—this is what they're for, isn't it?" another man chimed in, his tone self-righteous.
Soon, the murmurs became a chorus of complaints.
"Are you deaf? We're talking to you!"
"Young people these days—no manners at all!"
"Exactly! No respect for their elders! How did someone like you even become a soldier?"
Even the trembling Executive Kim, who had earlier collapsed in fear, now straightened his tie and cleared his throat, regaining his arrogance.
"Young man," he said loftily, "I understand your job is difficult, but this is your duty! Our safety as taxpayers depends on you!"
He paused, then pointed toward Yoon Sang-hwa and the others.
"And them—they've passed through several cars already! They could be infected! For everyone's safety, they should be locked in Car 16!"
His words were quickly met with agreement.
"That's right! Mr. Kim's right—lock them up!"
"For everyone's safety, it has to be done!"
"Do it now!"
In an instant, the crowd became agitated, as if Yoon Sang-hwa and the others had already turned into zombies, and they were the embodiment of justice.
Ian's lips curved into a faint, mocking smile.
He stepped forward slowly, each step echoing like a heartbeat through the crowd.
"Hey! What do you think you're doing? Didn't you hear us?"
"Are you deaf? Stop right there!"
"Kids these days are too arrogant!"
A few men stepped forward, shouting and trying to block his path.
But before they could touch him, a sudden blast of invisible wind sent them flying, slamming into the metal walls with a heavy thud.
"Ahhh!"
Screams filled the carriage once more.
Executive Kim's face instantly turned pale when he saw this. He instinctively backed away but Ian grabbed him by the collar.
"W-what are you doing? I'm telling you, I'm an executive of the High-Speed Bus Company! If you touch me, I'll—"
His threat trailed off under Ian's cold, piercing gaze.
"I… I was just… thinking of everyone's safety…"
When Ian said nothing, Kim suddenly dropped to his knees, tears streaming down his face.
"I-I did it for everyone! I swear! I only wanted more people to survive!"
Ian didn't speak. His expression remained unreadable—only the faintest trace of ridicule flickered in his eyes.
He lifted Kim effortlessly, then turned to Yoon Sang-hwa and the others.
"Let's go. To Car 16."
He pointed toward a few passengers. "You, and you, and you… come with us too."
The people he called out were those who hadn't joined in the blockage—those who had tried to stop Kim, or even help open the doors earlier.
"As for the rest of you…" Ian said, raising his left hand toward them. A bright flash filled the car—but no one was harmed.
The crowd exchanged confused glances, wondering what Ian was up to.
"Let's go." Ian didn't explain, and was the first to step into Car 16.
Yoon Sang-hwa's group followed, along with the few others he'd chosen.
As the doors closed behind them, those thrown against the walls slowly slid down to the floor.
"Pah! What a joke! Thinks he's Superman or something?"
"Exactly! He's just a bit stronger and can blow some wind? What's the big deal!"
"When we get to a safe place, I'm definitely going to file a complaint against him!"
"Exactly! We'll show him who's boss!"
The complaints grew louder and bolder—but not a single one of them dared to approach the door to Car 16.
Inside Car 16, Chloe finally spoke. "Mister… they... they keep cursing you. Are you just going to ignore them?"
"Of course not," Ian replied calmly. "Let them bark a little longer."
He had, in fact, destroyed the connecting doors of the earlier cars with a laser blast. The zombies in those cars were already drawn by the shouting from Car 15.
Moments later, low growls began to echo faintly through the air.
Then came the screams.
"Monsters! Monsters!"
"Help! Somebody help us!"
"Open the door! Please open the door!"
The carriage erupted into chaos—screaming, pounding, desperate pleas.
Car 15 was a storm of terror.
Inside Car 16, everyone froze as the realization dawned on them—this was what Ian's earlier gesture had done.
"Please! Open the door! I'm begging you!"
"My hand—ahh, my hand's been bitten!"
"Help me… please…"
The door suddenly burst open. A few survivors managed to stumble inside Car 16, slamming the door shut behind them, blocking it with clothes and whatever they could find.
The screams outside grew fainter. The zombies, satisfied, began to quiet down.
The survivors in Car 16 sighed in relief—only to turn and see a solid obsidian wall sealing off the space before them.
"Wh-what's this?" someone whispered, trembling as they touched the cold, dark surface.
CLANG—CLANG— (Ian took out the Golden Bell and started ringing it)
The ominous toll reverberated like a death knell, making every hair on their bodies stand on end.
"Damn it, who the hell's ringing a bell now?" a burly man cursed, pounding on the wall. It didn't budge.
"Look! Over there!" someone cried, pointing toward the glass connection between cars.
Cracks were forming—thin at first, then spreading like a spider's web—as hordes of zombies rammed against it.
Crack… crack…
The web of fractures deepened.
"No! Please, no!"
"Help! Help us!"
"We were wrong! We shouldn't have shut the door! Please let us out!"
They screamed, begged, pounded on the walls. One man dropped to his knees, bowing his head over and over against the obsidian.
CRASH!
The glass gave way.
"ROAR!"
"Grrhhh…"
The wave of undead surged in, devouring them instantly.
Screams, tearing, the crunch of bones—
"I don't want to die! I don't want to die!"
"Why? Why are you doing this to us?"
Their final cries faded into silence. Only the blood-soaked wreckage remained—and the stench of death.