Chapter 285
Chapter 285
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 285
Chapter Title: 115. Happiness (4)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The village was ringed by a crude barricade pieced together from timber, slate plywood, and doors pried off abandoned vehicles.
Beyond the barricade, I could make out about fifty ramshackle huts, though it didn't seem like there were that many people actually living there.
True to its forsaken state, there wasn't even a single guard at the entrance.
The same went for the watchtower that had once presumably been manned by someone keeping lookout.
A wind chime hanging beneath the tower swayed in a sudden gust, ringing out clear and bright as if announcing our approach.
"Any ambushes?"
There probably weren't any, but to be sure, I asked Cheon Young-jae.
He rolled his eyes this way and that before shaking his head.
We proceeded to the entrance together and pushed open the makeshift gate to enter the village.
Finally, one loitering figure spotted us.
"Who the hell are you?"
I could tell the man's condition was poor even before we exchanged words.
His emaciated frame, dazed expression, sallow skin, and the ceaseless, twitchy movements that never let up for a second.
A drug addict.
"We're from Shelter 73."
There's one common prejudice about drug addicts.
That they're people whose minds are completely broken, incapable of any normal thought.
That's not true, from what I've seen.
They have distinctive traits, sure, but most addicts can think straight.
Before they got hooked, they were ordinary folks just like us.
Those with jobs keep at them, those with families spend happy times with them and play their roles at home.
In fact, they all believe they're perfectly normal.
This guy was no different.
The moment he realized we were outsiders, his eyes darted around as he mulled it over, then he grinned.
"How'd you get here?"
"Through the zombie zone."
"Whoa! The zombie zone? You made it through there? What about monsters?!"
"We went around."
"Incredible! You got a car? Where's the car?"
His bloodshot eyes bulged eagerly.
"We came on foot. No car."
"No car...? Without a car, you can't get out."
"You can walk. That's how we did it."
"No, that's not the point. Without a car, you can't take anything with you! Can't take shit!"
Suddenly, the man shuddered violently, repeating himself like someone with diminished intellect.
Soon, his hands trembled visibly as he pulled something from his pocket.
A vile substance not fit to even name.
"Heh heh!"
In a way, drug addicts are people who died long ago.
They think they're normal, but that normalcy is just a fleeting illusion bridging the gap between highs.
The man buried his nose in the paper wrap.
I averted my gaze and scanned the surroundings.
"..."
The entire hillside was planted with drug crops.
I couldn't tell if the shelter had set it up or if this ragtag community had turned to it for trade, but it was extensive.
Maybe this was Shelter 73's main source of income.
With Korea's vaunted medical system collapsed, drugs were the easiest painkillers to come by.
"We're looking for a woman named Song Mun-hee."
The man rolled his eyes again.
"Song Mun-hee?"
"You know her?"
"Yeah, 'course I do. The one living up on that hill over there?"
Cheon Young-jae, who'd been listening, cut in.
"She got kids? Any kids?!"
"Yeah, she did. But they died. Last winter."
"..."
I glanced sidelong at Cheon Young-jae's face, his emotions swinging wildly, then asked the man,
"How old were they?"
"Babies. Born last year."
"No older ones? No bigger kids?"
"Nah. None."
I turned to Cheon Young-jae.
"That's what he says."
Cheon Young-jae stared back at me with a hardened expression and nodded slowly.
"Hey, you guys. You said you're from outside, right?"
The man approached us, drool spilling from his mouth.
"You come in a car?"
"No, on foot."
"Where's the car?! No car?"
"I told you, we walked."
"No car won't cut it. Makes everything pointless."
The man muttered to himself, hands shaking fiercely.
I ignored him and stared at the house he'd pointed to.
"What now?"
I asked Cheon Young-jae.
"Gonna check it out?"
It was a casual question, but its weight was anything but light.
It carried the gravity of a lifetime.
"..."
Cheon Young-jae couldn't decide easily.
"Let's go."
I took the lead.
"Where to?"
"We've come this far. Might as well confirm."
The clock read 4 p.m.
Summer meant late sunsets, but once darkness fell, zombie threats doubled.
No harm in hurrying.
Or maybe it was just my urge to escape this village of the living dead and its nauseating air sooner.
People began emerging one by one from the decaying buildings.
All showed clear signs of malnutrition and the typical addict pallor, but at least they seemed aware of what was happening.
Amid it all, Cheon Young-jae rolled his eyes frantically, his anxiety plain as day.
We reached the house in question.
Like the others, it was slapped together from slate, wood, and scrap metal.
Insulation like industrial plastic sheeting hung grotesquely from the gaps, like spilled guts.
The door was shut tight.
I knocked.
A small panel at the top slid open like a peephole, revealing a middle-aged man's bloodshot eyes.
"Who is it?"
His tone grated immediately.
Not something he'd picked up overnight.
I saw Cheon Young-jae's face twist.
"We're looking for Song Mun-hee."
"Who the fuck are you? Huh? Who?!"
That should've been the end of it.
"You worthless shits think this is some playground? Get the fuck out!"
This wasn't the naive pre-war world anymore.
Cheon Young-jae shoving past me was only natural.
Bang!
He flung the door open violently.
The man yelled threats, but Cheon Young-jae's merciless hand slapped him across the face and dragged him out.
Thwack!
Brutal kicks hammered the man's head and gut.
I raised my gun, scanning for threats.
A few heads poked out from nearby houses, but no one intervened.
"Aaaagh!"
Leaving the man, Cheon Young-jae went inside, came out.
He shook his head at me.
Empty.
"Where's Mun-hee?"
Cheon Young-jae squatted in front of the man and demanded.
When he only groaned, Cheon Young-jae grabbed his hair and dragged him across the dirt toward the door.
He positioned the man's face where the door would slam shut, then asked again.
"Answer quick."
He slammed the door hard.
Bang!
The doorframe smashed into the man's skull.
"Answer me!"
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Each slam sprayed blood; the man's body jerked.
"Cheon Young-jae."
I called his name at that point.
He glared at me, excitement still burning in his eyes.
"No need to kill him."
"Just teaching manners."
Cheon Young-jae raised his gun, eyeing beyond the building.
Someone was approaching.
"Huh?"
Killing intent flared in Cheon Young-jae's eyes.
From around the corner emerged a sturdy man in his early thirties.
A stylish tattoo stood out on his neck, likely inked before the war.
The moment Cheon Young-jae saw him, he leveled his gun and grinned whitely.
"You bastard."
I knew who this was.
Yoon Sung-jae.
The one who'd beaten Cheon Young-jae and stolen Song Mun-hee from him.
He was unarmed.
Two men with him carried only clubs, which they hid or dropped upon seeing our guns.
Before Cheon Young-jae smashed his face with the rifle butt, I got a good look.
Clean-cut.
Unlike the others here, no signs of drug abuse.
Thwack!
Cheon Young-jae floored him with one blow and aimed his gun.
"Come to die?"
"..."
The man said nothing.
His face, avoiding Cheon Young-jae's blazing glare, showed fatalistic resignation.
Cheon Young-jae lowered his gun and drew another weapon from his belt.
Shing--
A kukri, the curved blade without a guard.
Not standard issue, but it had trended among hunters once.
Easy to maintain, great cutting power.
"Where's Mun-hee?"
Cheon Young-jae pressed the cold blade close and asked.
The man showed no intent to answer.
Cheon Young-jae sighed and stepped closer.
"Cheon Young-jae."
"What?"
"This him? Yoon Sung-jae?"
"Yeah. This fucker drove me out. Tried to sever my Achilles."
"Good."
I told Cheon Young-jae to back off.
He showed clear displeasure at my order, but I ignored him, stood before Yoon Sung-jae, and looked down.
His resigned eyes met mine briefly before dropping to the ground.
"Looks like you haven't touched the drugs. Right?"
He glanced up, nodded silently.
"Why show yourself?"
I glanced at Cheon Young-jae.
"You had to know coming out meant death?"
This wasn't just for him.
It was for Cheon Young-jae too, lost to emotional excess.
Cheon Young-jae's breathing shifted.
The tension in his kukri grip eased gradually.
Sensing a sliver of hope, I pressed on.
"For Song Mun-hee?"
"..."
"Doesn't matter if you trust us or not. We're not here for revenge. You came out because you want to know about her, right?"
The man, who'd avoided my eyes, licked his bloodied lips and finally met my gaze.
"Song Mun-hee. She's alive?"
"..."
"Answer. So he can relax."
I said it short and firm.
Only then did he exhale deeply and nod.
"She's alive."
I turned to Cheon Young-jae.
"That's what he says."
Cheon Young-jae said nothing.
Dazed upon hearing his ex was alive, he soon smirked oddly, kicked a pebble into the wall of the neighboring hut.
"Can we see her?"
I asked Yoon Sung-jae.
He shook his head without a word.
"Why?"
"..."
"I'm not the one holding your life in my hands. He is."
"...Mun-hee doesn't want to see him."
The man finally spoke.
His voice was deep and resonant, pleasant to hear.
Looking closer, his face had a refined quality, and his slight movements carried a hint of dignity.
I nodded and stepped back from him.
"Cheon Young-jae."
Now it was his call.
I watched him steadily.
Regardless of skills or combat prowess, he was sharp.
Quick thinker, fast at reading situations.
I'd thought he had no weaknesses.
But he was overly vulnerable to personal matters, prone to losing his cool.
Everyone has flaws.
His wasn't a good one.
It involved "choices."
"..."
This was my final test.
I hoped he'd judge wisely.
No matter how capable, I won't team up with someone who can't control personal emotions.
Losing him would sting, but it was a golden opportunity.
Such intimate flaws don't show easily in daily life.
"What's the reason?"
Cheon Young-jae growled.
Yoon Sung-jae sighed softly and murmured back.
"...You know."
Cheon Young-jae's eyes flickered faintly.
He stood there, head bowed, motionless.
Shadows hid his face, but I sensed thoughts racing beneath.
The silence didn't last.
"Fuck."
Cheon Young-jae spat the curse and turned.
He looked at me.
"Let's go."
His eyes glistened faintly with tears.
I sensed a faint smile tugging at his lips but held back.
"Let's grab a drink. Got something good."
"Do what you want."
We were about to leave this village of living corpses together when,
"Are you a hunter too?"
Yoon Sung-jae rose at last and asked.
Tall guy.
Easily over 190 cm.
I nodded.
"Terribly sorry."
Suddenly, he dropped to his knees.
"I know it's shameless, but hunters are monsters' natural predators, or so I've heard."
"..."
"Forgive me, but could you take out the monster ahead? All we can offer is drugs, but it's life or death for us. That thing blocks the road; we can't get our goods to the shelter..."
"No."
I refused flat out.
"Too many zombies. Just the two of us. And no reason to risk our necks for you."
Personally, polite refusals work best.
My old colleague Lee Sang-hun had mastered it to nauseating perfection.
I signaled Cheon Young-jae and stepped forward again.
"If you don't help, we'll all starve, me included. Mun-hee too."
Not my problem.
But.
"...Hyung Park."
My junior looked to me.
This wasn't him testing me.
He was leaning on me.
Shing-
I drew my axe after ages.
Its mirror-sharp edge still dazzled my eyes.
"Let's go."