"If you had to choose between wrong and very wrong, what would you choose?"
When two young scientists decide to decode the secret behind a very millennial-looking zombie roaming the streets of their city on a moonless twilight, they are faced with...
I left home when I was eighteen. Seoul was a dream city, back then. I reckon it still is. Not everyone could live in it and expect to live well. I heard stories from grandfather about men and women who left everything behind and travelled to the capital to fulfill their big, big dreams, only find themselves spending their nights on the sidewalks. Despite the perils, despite knowing I would lose everything I had earned in the eighteen years of my tedious life, I risked it all. I risked it all and went to Seoul, yearning to find a place in the world which gave me the power to choose what I had never been allowed to. The power to decide the fate of ordinary people like us, who were forgotten by the elite classes and pushed to the margins of society. A power that only politics could give me.
While the rest of you were living the best moments of your life — relishing the essence of youth, drinking, sleeping around, partying like there was no tomorrow — I was far, far away, struggling to bring a change for people who had no control over their own lives just because they couldn't afford to. I held campaigns. I established orphanages and old age homes. I provided food and financial aid to the poor. I gave them education. Health facilities. Jobs. I gave them hope when they had none.
But when the time came for the people to elect who they would choose as their leader, who they would vest all their love, support and trust in, they chose you. You, who had joined the field of politics a decade after I had, who had done nothing in the name of public welfare, who had spent his nights digging the gold coffers of our father. Under the limelight of his guidance and publicity, you became the President. And what happened to me?
I was forgotten. Crushed under the blind eye of the very people I served. Years of my dedication and service had amounted to nothing. I perished in the forgotten memory of the world, while fools like you ruled the country. You don't deserve it one bit, you know that, Hwanwook?
I didn't deserve it either. I deserved to be declared the ruler of the world. Yes, I say I deserved it because I know what I deserve. I don't need some God-Almighty to bless me for what I am worth. The world isn't fair, I realized, and neither is God. What matters is how fair we make it for ourselves. So that's what I'm doing. I have something that you don't, Hwanwook: I have the power to turn your countrymen into those ugly creatures your intelligent scientists call Aenigmi. Renounce power, and I will stop these attacks. Resign from the President's post and let me become its rightful holder. Don't even try to act smart; only I have the power to generate copious amounts of Aenigmium that no nuclear weapon can destroy. I have a legion of Aenigmi that your puny army would never be able to overthrow. If writing you this letter doesn't make things clear enough, I will continue to kidnap Korean civilians until not a single man remains uninfected in this country. If I cannot rule them, neither can you.
Your bother, Gwonhan
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Jungkook eyed the symbol imprinted in the subscription of the letter like a signature. The alphabet was a prominent constituent of the kanji script used in the Japanese writing system. It represented power, much like the meaning of the name of the letter's writer, Gwonhan. A clever move, he thought. Except now, the sacred letter had become a symbol of the country's most feared terrorist cult, of the man who was behind the disappearance and death of incalculable men, women and children.
