Chapter 330
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 330
Chapter Title: 133. Fair Trade (4)
Korea and China.
Trade between two utterly alien groups brimming with mutual distrust, both sides armed to the teeth.
No matter how nicely you put it, even the friendliest deal could erupt into a hail of bullets and chaos at any moment.
The Chinese had come up with a solution based on something they loved and excelled at: drone-based trading.
Even for direct trades, they'd only get close enough to visually confirm each other's presence.
The actual exchange would be handled by their diligent drone buddy.
"Requesting transaction number."
Of course, ID verification was mandatory before any drones flew.
In this era, drones themselves were precious assets.
Someone could easily snatch one and bolt, so the Chinese had set up a pretty thorough authentication process.
I'd received the transaction number in advance.
"AXX-0300."
I relayed the number stored on my phone to the Chinese. They confirmed it and asked back,
"Trader's name?"
"SKELTON."
"Items for trade?"
"Gaming console and software. And a laptop."
"Nothing else needed?"
"Planning to trade just these for now. If I need more, I'll contact you via the internet or whatever."
"Understood."
Unlike the awkward online chatter, the woman's Korean over the radio was so natural, you could swear she was Korean herself.
Through my binoculars, I spotted her standing half-hidden behind an armored vehicle, radio in hand.
"She's a Hunter."
I said to Jeon Sang-hee, who was standing guard beside me.
"A Hunter?"
"Yeah."
"How can you tell? They all look the same in those uniforms to us."
I handed him the binoculars and adjusted my sunglasses.
"See that armband on her left arm?"
"Armband? Oh, that cloth-wrapped thing?"
"Right. She's probably covering it up to hide the band."
Before the war, China operated the world's largest Hunter force.
At its peak, they had over a hundred thousand Hunters.
Of course, if you asked if they were all proper Hunters, the answer would be no—but even so, China stuck with old-school Hunters to the bitter end and sank with them.
Having served in China for so long, I knew their Hunter traits and uniforms well enough.
What that woman was wearing was the so-called Hunter uniform.
Its hallmark was the flashy armband visible from afar.
Covering it with cloth wasn't regulation, but it was a practical habit encouraged by Chinese commanders and favored by their Hunters.
The armbands were just too ostentatious.
Even accounting for them being death-row garb for those heading into hell, the Chinese government had gifted their Hunters overly extravagant markers.
In the safety of cities, those badges drew respect and attention—but on battlefields swarming with rebels, they were death sentences.
Fanatics especially targeted Hunters first.
To the point where, even with a three-star general overseeing an entire front right beside them, they'd prioritize killing the Hunter next to him.
As Hunter hunting rampaged, Chinese Hunters ditched their uniforms for Korean-style private combat gear or covered their armbands with cloth to stay low-profile.
I explained all this to Jeon Sang-hee.
"Makes sense. First time hearing that."
It wasn't surprising he didn't know.
What China sent us were soldiers, not Hunters.
"Anyway, that woman... she's a real beauty, just like the rumors. Could pass for an actress."
Her looks were indeed striking.
Not just pretty or cute, but elegantly beautiful.
But what caught my eye wasn't her face—it was the bizarre weapon strapped to her wrist.
I didn't know the exact mechanism, but it had ejection ports for at least three small projectiles.
Chukonu, was it?
The Hunter weapon used to take down the Gold Pack.
The Chinese Hunter I'd fought had confidence in close quarters but didn't seem to favor Hunter weapons much.
Maybe she was the one who wiped out the Gold Pack single-handedly.
But...
"......"
Was it my imagination?
Her eyes seemed to faintly glow.
No, probably not.
China never tolerated Awakeners to the end.
Even if the old regime had crumbled without a trace, I doubted they'd reverse that policy.
"Hey, which one's SKELTON?"
The woman on the radio again.
I raised my hand.
"You SKELTON?"
"That's me."
"Why the sunglasses and mask?"
"Why do you ask?"
"Curious."
"I have lots of enemies."
"Enemies?"
"Yeah. Enemies everywhere. Can't just show my face."
"Ah, fair enough. Sending Xiao Xiao over~."
Setting aside the chat, her Korean was impeccable.
So why the weird online talk?
As suspicions mounted, a drone buzzed toward us.
King's men weren't idle.
Clack!
Clack!
Anti-air sensors and a makeshift AA gun bundling four 7.62mm machine guns locked on with noisy whirs.
False alarm.
The drone looked ridiculous—like a big plastic box with propellers slapped on.
A literal trade drone.
Notable was the transparent acrylic side letting you see the contents clearly.
I'd seen similar ones in pre-war concepts for global drone delivery networks, like the melon mask guy's idea.
I loaded 600g of silver and radioed,
"First trade, so just items worth 600g silver."
"Sure?"
"Next one's after this succeeds."
"Got it."
The silver-loaded drone floated up, headed to the Chinese lines, returned with goods.
I checked: the gaming console and software IMGzer wanted, plus my laptop.
Tested the laptop first, naturally.
Keyboard responsive, battery good.
Signs of regular use, not abuse—steady daily wear.
Better than some neglected dust-collector.
"How's the stuff?"
The Chinese asked.
"Good. Rest I'll verify elsewhere."
"Any issues, contact anytime. SKELTON."
"Will do."
Drone and Chinese gone, we pulled out.
Clean deal.
Unbelievably smooth and no loose ends, for post-war Chinese trade.
"Not hype for nothing."
Jeon Sang-hee seemed impressed too.
Though their current goodwill wasn't 100% pure.
Chinese loved showing a good face then revealing true colors at key moments—plenty of idioms for that.
They had their reasons for the hassle.
"They'll backstab someday."
Jeon Sang-hee's take matched mine.
I asked,
"So, no more trades with Chinese ever?"
He straightened up.
"Of course we will."
I stared; he continued,
"Remember theme stocks? Obvious scams, money grabs. Why'd people buy in?"
"Dunno."
He grinned.
"Belief that others lose, but not you."
I smiled too.
Fair point.
Everyone has that greed.
Planning a couple more trades sans King.
If ID blows, won't end with a few bullets—but this shopping spree's a rare chance.
Stock up before winter; contact again soon.
Depends on IMGzer's mood, though.
"That guy you're meeting, Park Hunter..."
Jeon Sang-hee scratched his head.
"Alone in that city over a year?"
"Probably."
"Sigh. Kinda worried."
Worry creased his face.
First time seeing him fret, even facing Chinese.
Zombie phobia?
Staring, he blurted,
"Think he's still okay?"
*
Headed straight to IMGzer's city post-trade.
The zombie graveyard city loomed grayish from afar—not monster corrosion, but shadows of the dead.
Wooooh...
Wooooh...
Closer, the eerie zombie chorus crushed the living's spirits.
"Wait here."
No further for Jeon Sang-hee's escort vehicles.
Partly his suspicion, but I knew IMGzer.
He's reclusive.
Doesn't open up easy; ignores closed-off folks no matter what.
Was like that pre-power; now with massive might.
Could whip thousands of zombies or smash obstacles on whim.
So, team stays distant.
Instead, Baek Seung-hyeon's motorcycle.
"Yo, SKELTON. Chinese deal go smooth?"
Radioed King before going.
"Obviously."
"Good. Haven't used those gold bars yet?"
"Hand over what IMGzer wants first, see what else he needs."
Blind-buying gifts? Dumb.
Talk first.
What he wants, plans.
"......"
Jeon Sang-hee's words lingered.
Is IMGzer still sane?
Annoying question.
But spot-on.
People break easy.
Moment will snaps, they change.
Doubt IMGzer's unbreakable—not just my thought.
His dad, whom I killed second time, probably thought same.
"IMGzer. It's me. SKELTON. SKELTON."
Radioed amid thoughts.
Static, then,
"SKELTON...?"
Connected.
"Yeah, me. Got all your stuff. Where to?"
"Wait. Wait! Sending someone!"
Voice changed.
Once boyish, now thick manly timbre.
Plus newfound strength in tone.
Grown up?
In this death city.
Doubt zombies taught him.
Just puppets to his command.
Maybe sinister influence, as Jeon feared.
Thud... thud...
A female zombie with dried flowers in hair approached.
Odd: face veiled in bridal cloth.
Not pre-death wear, judging by suit below.
I eyed the axe-wielding zombie.
She halted, twisted oddly, walked ahead.
"......This the zombie? Veiled one."
Into radio.
Reply:
"Greeting! For SKELTON! Jane. Jane! Jane guides."
"......"
Bad vibes.
Sane zombie in veil; IMGzer's excited weird tone.
Moto-bike, followed Jane.
No zombies on street, but chorus filled air, maddening.
Jane entered building.
Worn but glamorous company HQ, ~49 floors.
No zombies in towering shadow.
Moto my lifeline; wheeled it inside.
Inside, shadowy figures swarmed vision.
People—no, zombies.
All women.
Pre-war hot bods, attractive.
Varied outfits.
One in white wedding dress, another in tight leggings, cheerleader uniform even.
Sloppily dressed post-death, like Jane's veil.
IMGzer's doing, bet.
"SKELTON! SKELTON!"
IMGzer radioed.
"SKELTON! Almost here? Hear footsteps!"
Up stairs, open hall packed with bizarrely dressed female zombies.
Center: gaunt man I knew—but no longer.
"SKELTON!"
IMGzer.
Wearing a mask.
Human skin, seemingly.
Familiar...
Pre-war photo flashed: church, pastor.
"......"
His father's?