Sirens fade; whispers carry. The trailer sprints from barricaded rooftops to a cordoned port city where curfews blink like warnings and the word “hambie” is a prayer and a slur. Park Ji‑hu’s On‑jo leads with soft‑spined courage, Lomon’s Su‑hyeok cuts corridors clear, and Cho Yi‑hyun’s Nam‑ra haunts the edges—part compass, part storm.

Drones buzz low over quarantine grids; a flooded subway becomes a glass coffin; a school gym turns field hospital, chalk lines mapping who gets saved next. Variants adapt—climbers stack, listeners hunt by heartbeats, and the hybrid few decide which side of dawn to stand on.

Edits punch on breath and baton crack; radio chatter knots into friendship vows; flashbacks stitch grief to grit without slowing the charge. A bridge standoff under flare‑red rain teases the season’s thesis: survival is teamwork, not luck—and mercy costs. Final sting: a classroom door opens to a mirror of the first outbreak, only this time the kids are ready.