1000 Days Until the Apocalypse, Training My Sister First
Alert to Player.
In 1000 days, zombies will overrun the world.
Until then, train many Slaves to prepare.
I opened my eyes, and some weird window-like thing was floating there.
It wouldn't go away?
The moment I thought that, the window vanished right away.
Hallucination, maybe?
But no matter how I thought about it, something felt off.
I tried thinking I want to check it again, and the window popped up normally once more.
Disappear, and it did.
Appear, and it showed.
Still lying in bed, I repeated the trick a few more times.
On, off, on, off.
'What the hell's this about slaves?'
No sooner had the thought crossed my mind than inorganic text scrolled down below in a long update.
You can capture women, train them, and raise them as Slaves. Customize and enhance their bodies, looks, abilities, etc., to your exact tastes.
It felt like it was just spitting back what I input, but the response was spot-on.
Were the zombies for real?
In 1000 days.
"...What the fuck."
I stared blankly at the text for a bit.
Then I scratched my head roughly and got up.
Time to head to work, anyway.
*
"...13,400 won. Need a bag?"
"Nah."
Beep.
"Have a good one."
Convenience store night shifts were simple grunt work—no real brainpower needed except during peak hours.
I sent the customer off and tapped at my phone.
But my mind was fixated on one thing.
D-Day 1000.
"......"
I toggled it on and off repeatedly.
No sign of it vanishing.
Wondering if anyone else could see it, I pulled it up every time a customer came in.
Not a single one noticed.
No one even flinched.
Guess it was visible only to me.
'A dream? ...Nah, doesn't feel like it.'
Pinching my skin hurt, and staring at the time that dragged on forever convinced me this was definitely reality.
Mental illness?
Hallucination?
That was my first thought.
The most logical suspicion anyone with common sense would reach.
Of course, that didn't mean I was rushing to a doctor.
What the hell would I even tell them?
That I was seeing a weird window?
That I had to turn women into slaves?
That zombies were coming soon?
Hmm.
No way.
That'd just get me labeled a psycho pervert.
"...What the fuck is this, anyway."
No clue. Not a damn one.
*
D-Day 998.
"......"
Two days had passed.
As expected, sort of.
Well, not really expected, but it sure as hell hadn't gone away.
If anything, the changing numbers just ramped up this inexplicable anxiety.
I hadn't been sitting idle, though. I'd done some digging in my own way.
No results, of course.
Searched online, posted some questions.
Got called schizophrenic or crazy.
Most surprising? Some guy who was "interested" and wanted to meet up.
Creeped me out, so I stopped posting after that.
At this point, the doubts naturally converged on one conclusion.
"Gimme a pack of ooo cigarettes. And this too."
"...Sorry, but can I see some ID?"
"...Huh? Oh, sure."
The woman pulled out her wallet.
Casual clothes, light makeup.
She was on the pretty side—closer to beauty than average.
She didn't look annoyed at the hassle; if anything, she seemed quietly pleased, her lips curving up just a bit as I checked her ID.
Conditions to train this woman not met.
Intravaginal ejaculation required.
'Name's... Lee Yujin, yeah. Age... matches too.'
The photo on her plastic ID was airbrushed a bit differently from real life, but not enough to fool recognition.
Didn't expect words on an ID, but nothing weird about it.
I cross-checked the text on her ID against the floating status window, then handed it back without a hint of reaction.
"5,500 won."
Rang her up.
"Have a good one."
I watched impassively as she grabbed her smokes and pushed through the convenience store's glass door.
I'd confirmed on day one that I could view others' status windows.
Wondered if it was just me, so I tried thinking about someone else, and it appeared.
Didn't work on guys—only women.
Says to make women into slaves, and damn if this system isn't blunt and honest about it.
Thought it might be bullshit, but no doubting the status window's real now.
First time meeting her. No idea on name or age.
But the ID proved it true.
Just like all the others I'd checked since.
Not just this once—multiple people, so yeah, had to accept it.
Still, couldn't shake the lingering doubt that maybe this was all delusion and I was nuts.
But overthinking that way led nowhere.
For now, I'd assume it was real.
"......"
Problem just got bigger.
This shit's fucked.