Chapter 28
“Report, are you going to report it?”
Min Ahyeon tensed up at Shin Hae-jun’s ambiguous response. As she anxiously chewed on her lip, staring up at him, the corner of Shin Hae-jun’s mouth twisted with a deflating sound.
“I will not. Min Ahyeon is more timid than I thought.”
At Shin Hae-jun’s answer, Min Ahyeon narrowed the space between her straight eyebrows. It was a relief, but he was still a man she could not trust at all. She asked again, seeking confirmation.
“Why?”
It was unusual for Min Ahyeon to have so many questions today, but Shin Hae-jun shrugged his angular shoulders and spoke casually.
“Because I don’t want to see you end up with another bastard.”
Has this guy gone mad?
Ahyeon shook her head slightly, pretending not to hear the smooth words flowing from Shin Hae-jun’s lips.
“I…. I don’t understand what you mean.”
“No, Min Ahyeon, you understood me perfectly well.”
If you can’t remember, I can remind you.
Shin Hae-jun added teasingly, causing Ahyeon’s face to turn bright red.
“That’s enough.”
“What a pity.”
Though he said so, Shin Hae-jun showed no sign of regret, his gaze fixed on the congested road ahead, not on her. But why did it feel like Shin Hae-jun’s gaze kept lingering… Does this guy have eyes in the back of his head or something?
Feeling increasingly embarrassed and uncomfortable with each conversation with him, Min Ahyeon suddenly realized the presence of the car radio.
“Oh, this car has a radio.”
Normally, cars would naturally have radios, but Min Ahyeon pointed out the existence of the radio as if it were a new discovery. She felt like she had found a savior. She quickly raised her hand to change the subject.
“Let me turn it on.”
Min Ahyeon turned the radio dial without waiting for Shin Hae-jun’s permission. Despite her careful touch in adjusting the frequency, all she heard was static-filled noise. While Shin Shin Hae-jun, without any particular thoughts on whether the radio worked or not, resumed watching the road ahead, Min Ahyeon was different.
‘Come on, work. Work, please, when I’m asking nicely!’
Despite Min Ahyeon’s desperate gaze, the radio stubbornly refused to cooperate. Just as she was about to pull the dial with force, Shin Hae-jun’s puzzled glance finally landed on her as he raised an eyebrow.
“Do you really want to listen to the radio that badly?”
It wasn’t that she wanted to listen to the radio, but rather that she didn’t want to drive in silence with Shin Hae-jun. Nevertheless, Min Ahyeon nodded hesitantly. Finally, resorting to the classic method of repair, just as Min Ahyeon was about to raise her fist…
[Bzz- click. Today’s episode, bzz- . The, letter, today is…]
Ah, it worked.
[Today’s letter was sent from Gangneung. It’s a letter for my beloved late wife.]
After persistent attempts, Min Ahyeon’s familiar voice began to flow into her ears.
“I found it.”
Min Ahyeon turned up the volume of the radio in excitement. Shin Hae-jun, only now showing interest, raised his eyebrows.
“What’s this?”
In response to Shin Hae-jun’s question, a gentle voice began to emanate from the radio.
[Honey, are you well?
I’m in Gangneung. It’s where you used to sing to the sea of the East Sea. If I had known, I would have come to see the sunrise with you at least once. Next year, and the year after that, we kept putting it off… If only we had seen the sunrise together at least once, my heart wouldn’t be aching like this now.]
Contrary to the sorrowful content of the letter, the voice reading it was incredibly gentle. Kind and gentle. Min Ahyeon, momentarily immersed in sadness as she listened, then looked directly at Shin Hae-jun, who seemed utterly clueless.
Come to think of it, Shin Hae-jun had never experienced life outside of the military. He didn’t seem to have any intention to. Since Shin Hae-jun had refrained from going out even before the outbreak, Ahyeon accepted that he was ignorant about the world.
“The frequency that’s only caught by civilian communication, not military signals. Someone is broadcasting on this frequency.”
Shin Hae-jun, who had been vigorously pushing the cars blocking the road, burst into a sudden laugh at Ahyeon’s words.
“Do I look like such an ignorant idiot to you?”
Well, even if Shin Hae-jun was ignorant about the outside world, he couldn’t possibly be unaware of such basic knowledge. Ahyeon quickly understood and nodded.
“So, what are you asking then?”
“Why broadcast on civilian communication? It’s not for advertising, and it’s not making any money.”
Shin Hae-jun muttered, utterly failing to comprehend.
“If there’s no real benefit, it’s just wasting time. Is there even a need to be broadcasting?”
In this ruined world, he couldn’t understand why they would insist on broadcasting. What’s in it for them? Scratching his head, pondering the rationale behind this useless activity, Shin Hae-jun suddenly exclaimed.
“Are they using broadcasting to share information?”
His eyes widened as he reached this conclusion. He began laying out his reasoning.
“I see. Yes, that makes sense. Through the broadcasts, it would be easy to share the locations of makeshift shelters and evacuation sites. And the movement of the infected.”
Shin Hae-jun fell deep in thought, calculating how far-reaching these radio broadcasts must be, and how much power a network of such people could wield.
[…And you told me, no matter what, to protect the children. That’s what I did. No matter what, I kept our children safe. They’re all alright.]
He failed to fully hear the letter conveying a message straight from the heart, beyond just the information.
[That’s why I miss you even more.
The only thing that’s changed is that you’re no longer by my side.]
Ahyeon silently watched Shin Hae-jun, who was now talking about the “usefulness” of civilian communications as a means of survival, and seemed ready to discuss ways to expand it further. Then, she suddenly spoke up.
“Broadcasting is not just for that purpose.”
Shin Hae-jun raised an eyebrow in puzzlement at Ahyeon’s words.
“It’s for the survivors.”
Shin Hae-jun paused his rambling and glanced at Ahyeon. Realizing that he truly did not understand her perspective, Ahyeon slowly continued.
“Life before the apocalypse and after are different. That’s why many people have given up hope and their will to live. To prevent that, to hope that people don’t crumble—that’s why they’re broadcasting on the radio. If there’s even just one thing the same as before the end times…”
Ahyeon smiled bitterly, squeezing her clenched fist tightly.
“Then people can have hope.”
With that heartfelt statement, along with the tender voice conveying the sincerity of the letter.
[I’ll keep the children safe until I can come see you. Thank you.]
Within the sincerity lies sorrow, and within the sorrow, affection. Ahyeon reached into her own heart, feeling the overflowing affection, and thought of Woo-ju, the object of that love.
[I love you. I miss you.]
At those words, Ahyeon’s hand trembled. Was it because she imagined herself embracing Woo-ju and whispering those words of love? In any case, Ahyeon smiled bitterly, deeply feeling the bittersweet emotions of sorrow and love within.
“I just don’t understand.”
Watching Ahyeon intently, Shin Hae-jun furrowed his brow slightly, not comprehending.
“Just this little thing is meant to spread hope?”
Contrasting Shin Hae-jun’s sarcastic tone, the warmth of the voice continued to flow through the speaker.
[The final song we’ll play is ‘Hope This Song Is for You’ by Christopher. For the sake of the precious children who are worth dying for, please don’t let go of the thread of hope. I pray with all my heart.]
“I don’t understand how the children are so precious that they’re worth dying for either.”
If we consider the aspect of being a future workforce, then I can understand, but to say that oneself, who is immediately available as labor, is as precious as children who might die….
Shin Hae-jun’s words mixed with the music flowing out like noise. Whether Ahyeon didn’t hear his words or simply ignored them, she continued to gaze at Shin Hae-jun with the same blank expression and spoke.
“General, by any chance…”
🕂
Thank you for reading! ♡
