Chapter 4
**Chapter Title: Human Non-Protected Zone (3)**
The first settlement to appear in the tutorial was called **Mini Bell**.
* * * * *
It really lived up to its name: a tiny village. No supermarket to speak of, not even a general store. Only ten wooden houses.
Across the road without a center line, the three houses—those still burning right now—held nothing worth taking. Besides, you couldn’t enter them anyway.
The one small silver lining: no zombies remained in this village. Even in the cruelest game, the tutorial never made you die from the start. It was designed to hand you hope and then yank it away with one cruel twist.
Just like it had done for me.
* * * * *
I sat staring at the burning house for about thirty minutes.
I needed to see where the flames were spreading, make sure no zombies were bursting out, and check if any of the seven intact houses still held survivors.
The smell of blood was gone, replaced by the sharp scent of burning wood and charred hair. From my own perspective as someone who’d set the zombies ablaze, it turned my stomach. But a starving dog or a zombie would have gone mad with hunger for that meaty aroma.
Still, not a sound came from the seven houses. No matter how twisted the situation had become, the tutorial’s zombie count hadn’t changed.
Of course. Most of the tutorial’s logic was artificially crafted—hard to break. But the first stage was already over.
Now we were in the real wild. The guaranteed things were done. All that remained was improvisation.
On the bright side, no zombies left here. But staying was out of the question. This was an isolated village with almost no supplies.
I might have loaded a big truck later and come back to clean up. That was talk for after every crisis was beaten.
“Okay.”
Now I could slowly check the seven intact houses. There’d probably be nothing much, but I wasn’t expecting miracles. One bottle of water and a can opener would be plenty.
I started at the house on the far left of the road. The door was wide open and the curtains pulled aside, so the inside was clearly visible. Nothing inside.
“Excuse me, thief here.”
I knocked on the door and stepped in, then stopped short. A warning note was taped to the doorframe. It looked hastily slapped on and was so crooked the angle made me wince.
**Entry Forbidden**
I recognized the Korean characters even without correction. At least some minimal fix.
**This area has been designated a Human Non-Protected Zone. All humans inside are to immediately evacuate to the safe zone.**
**Remaining personnel in the Non-Protected Zone may be disposed of without warning per quarantine protocols. The government assumes no responsibility for any human or material loss during execution and will pursue severe legal penalties and damages against those who disobey.**
**Contagion can be stopped. Chaos can be contained. Trust and follow the government. Kimara Special Quarantine Management Division**
“Human Non-Protected Zone?”
Completely new concept.
I ignored the sign and walked in anyway. The house was in total chaos, as if the “immediate evacuation” order had been issued in panic.
Drawers lay on the floor, large garbage bags untouched. The bags had stickers reading “Carrier (Large).”
It meant the evacuation order had come and people had grabbed whatever they could. The scattered clothes on the floor and in the hallway told me how frantic they’d been.
‘So what about the zombies I burned?’
I thought of the ones I’d torched. Their faces had been grim, but they were full of wrinkles. Mostly old people.
I went into the innermost room. The bed looked new but was filthy, bones of a small animal scattered across the floor, trash piles, and cans with lids pried off.
The trash was dried, so the smell was milder, but I still wrinkled my nose and covered my mouth and nose with my arm.
Inside the cabinet, nothing useful. One family photo and a neatly folded newspaper. A kind-looking grandmother, a young couple, and a chubby baby. The grandmother’s face felt strangely familiar. She was smaller than the others, the exact build of the zombie I’d pushed away.
“Hah.”
I sighed and set the photo down. I only took the newspaper and left.
The same was true for the other houses.
Stickers were on every door. I ignored them and entered. All the big items like carpets were left behind. Even the junk was taken.
Yet people had left behind their family photos. Everyone in the pictures was smiling—awkwardly, brightly, happily. But now they were gone.
*Click.*
Cans were rolling on the floor here too. Plastic spoons were visible. I didn’t really want to bother, but since every house had them, I wiped them clean with a rag and picked them up.
**Kybele Foods proudly presents its delicious meat stew! No cooking required!**
The other cans were similar: tuna, mackerel, fruit. The companies varied, but every single can was from Kybele.
“Hah.”
There was also a funny item. A ready-to-eat combat ration with a heat pack—perfect for one-handed heating. Pound cake and meatloaf inside, all spotlessly empty.
**Kybele Foods proudly presents its simple one-step meal! No cooking required!**
I had no idea what Kybele did, but it felt like a military supplier.
“New.” “Exclamation mark.” The design and template looked ten years behind, yet the copy ended with that trademark “~yo.” phrase as if it held some secret formula.
And every can smelled the same: seafood bibimbap sauce. They really had boiled the sauce in one batch and portioned it.
“I know, right? People say the seafood bibimbap sauce tastes bad, but that’s just because it’s reheated. The fishy smell shoots right up. There’s a trick to eating it properly.”
“Really?”
“Surprisingly, it tastes great if you toss cold sauce on cold buckwheat noodles soaked in hot water. Like jajangmyeon. Add a little soy sauce and you’ll see.”
I added soy sauce and tried it during my night shift. It was honestly delicious.
The sunlight had been blinding that day as my squad rode in an ambulance to the medical tent. I still remembered the squad members lined up by the drill field, eyes full of regret, watching us go.
It felt like I had never wasted my military life. I gave a silent thank you.
“Hold on… keep fighting…”
I smiled until the ambulance door slammed shut.
* * * * *
In the final house’s living room sat a wide table. I laid out everything I’d found. After checking all seven houses, the haul was slim.
Two 500 ml bottles of water, one sausage still in its wrapper, one spoon and one fork. No can opener. A flashlight, a small medicine bag, and a roll of toilet paper.
Weapon: one hunting knife and one firefighter’s axe.
The clothes were decent. I’d thrown away everything ragged or bloody and kept only the good stuff.
Brown windbreaker, a pair of comfortable walking shoes, one clean shirt, one pair of jeans, and a wide-brimmed hat.
There were about two cars, but both looked old and long broken down.
The bicycle had a big front basket and three gears—clearly a suburban leisure ride, not something you could pedal at forty or fifty kilometers an hour without snapping the frame.
I was still skeptical, but it was far better than expected.
I unfolded the newspaper. It was clean but old, the paper yellowed. Underlined sections stood out clearly.
**The government has issued an official statement today stating that “the Chro Virus is not contagious, cannot be stopped, and is controllable, so there is no need to worry.” It has also strongly emphasized that citizens must strictly follow personal hygiene guidelines, such as frequent handwashing and thoroughly heating food. However…**
“Chro.” That was the zombie virus that had spread through this world. Transmission method… well, it probably varied by difficulty level, so I’d need to learn more.
Even with supplies already scarce, why had I burned the houses with zombies inside? Because if the virus spread through air in an enclosed space, it was over.
The rest of the news was all boring. Terrorist executed, the western Minsk Democratic Republic denied any connection, the eastern Roemer Republic expressed condolences for the unfortunate “accident.” Such stories.
I shook my head, opened my backpack, and finally pulled out my phone. The entire village had lost power and water, but that didn’t mean it was gone everywhere.
It was the same model I’d used before. Battery full, buttons working perfectly. And the good news was that was all of it.
“**Input password**”
“**Communication available area exit**”
Even the emergency dial wouldn’t turn on. I had to set it aside.
“What now.”
By this point the sense of doom felt almost deliberate. It was like someone had arranged the gears so they always clashed.
I set the phone down too and checked the items again. Then *thud*—a bullet rolled across the floor.
I caught it just in time before it disappeared under the bed. It wouldn’t fit a 22-caliber pistol, but it might still be useful…
“Eh?”
I examined it closer. A sharp V-shaped mark had been deliberately carved into the rim of the casing.
A brand-new pistol. A casing with a fresh V mark. A document bag with no password. I opened the bag. Black metal, smooth, no special features except a lock that turned.
No, wait—there was more. A semi-transparent panel was set into the lock. It looked like a fingerprint scanner.
I tried holding my finger to it. A red light lit up inside the panel. But nothing else happened.
“Nice.”
Gun and bullet working together. Password-locked phone. Scarce supplies. A locked bag that wouldn’t open.
“Status window…?”
Nothing appeared. In situations like this, I should have seen a semi-transparent window only I could see saying “Hidden Stat Activated” or “Apocalypse Convenience Store: 99,999 won special today only!”
“Status window!”
I shouted louder, but nothing came up.
“Status wiiiiiin—”
*Ring-ring-ring!*
A hiccup escaped me. Phone. *Rrring, rrring!* I started jumping around as if it was trying to ignore me. The vibration was insane. But why hadn’t “Communication available area exit” shown up?
I took a sip of water and answered.
“I clearly told you not to touch the bag, Hoot?”
A raspy male voice. Silence.
“Where exactly were you stuck that you even turned the phone off? How much lower are you willing to drop, Hoot? I have no idea what’s happening right now…”
Unfortunately, the man cut himself off there.
“Hey, who’s there.”
The voice dropped even lower. I took a breath and answered.