Ever since the start of this harsh weather, Zelta had seen it as a very strange abnormality in nature. Firstly, it started at a very odd season of mid summer, when the sun was meant to be out, and secondly, it looked like it was strangely most effective in a place which was closed most of the time.
Right now, Zelta didn't need a fortune-teller to know that the weather was far from normal, and there was something behind it, or someone.
It was a new day. The prisoners at the Busan woods were blissed by the cold frosty morning. Day after day, the cold seemed to be getting more and more worst. This was summing up their torture, and also helping to reduce their raging population, thereby causing a slight but satisfying increment in the contents of the bowls of the rest who were still yet to die of the cold.