Unprecedented
Do Wangu lounged across the largest circular sofa on the first floor, sinking into thought for a moment.
Well, things have gone smoothly enough so far.
Was what he was doing really the right call?
His friends and everyone else seemed to treat him like some bloodless, tearless figure straight out of a painting. Honestly, as a human being himself, he didn’t particularly enjoy those looks.
But given his reason and temperament, he figured this wasn’t the time to care about such things, so he simply brushed it off.
Maybe it was the threatening tone he used when speaking to people, but honestly, this had been the best he could manage.
Better to take direct control himself than sit around with no rules and watch some random variable explode, putting the group he belonged to in danger while he stared blankly.
Yet those so-called friends of his were just sitting there cracking movie-villain jokes.
In Do Wangu’s opinion, the ones lacking any sense of reality weren’t him—it was them.
In a situation like this, does it even make sense to worry about every little person’s feelings one by one?
Sudden irritation welled up. He abruptly sat upright and glared at his friends snickering on the sofa beside him.
They flinched under that vicious gaze and started reading the room, until finally Do Wangu shook his head slightly and looked away.
When they tried to stop him out of some half-baked altruism was one thing, but now that he’d done all the work, watching them savor their petty taste of power just made him sigh.
How is it that not a single one of them is useful?
He’d risked his life alone taking out nearly half the corpses without a word of complaint, and when he gave them a bit of side-eye because it pissed him off, that idiot started arguing to his face over just that—fine, whatever.
But that other bastard? He had no idea what his deal was.
He’d let the guy badmouth him behind people’s backs, even actively accepted the complaints and assigned him food-distribution duty so he could try managing things himself. Yet the guy kept glancing over with a face like he’d chewed shit, looking thoroughly displeased. Honestly, he wanted to kick him for real.
But since becoming an adult he’d resolved to keep his temper in check, so there was nothing else he could do. Just grind his teeth and endure.
Don’t tell me he’s acting like that because I told people not to help him?
If that was really it, he had nothing to say.
If the person entrusted with the critical job of food distribution started getting help from others, what would happen, common sense-wise?
While he was watching with eyes wide open they wouldn’t show it, but behind the scenes they’d either get cocky with all kinds of flattery and smooth talk, or buckle under the pressure and fail to do the job properly.
That was why he’d made him do it alone. So no one else could put any kind of debt on him.
But that bastard didn’t even get that and acted this way. How was Do Wangu supposed to feel?
Look at that. Already can’t take it and ignoring my words, dragging other people in.
Do Wangu’s tiny scrap of conscience poked at his reason, suggesting maybe the guy was acting that way because of his rough way of speaking, but he didn’t give a fuck.
More precisely, in this shitty situation where who knew when the military might come to save them, having decided to take responsibility for the lives of the people in this group, he was in no position to care about some trivial person’s feelings.
…?
But that aside.
The guy standing over there… seemed like a face he’d never seen before. Just his imagination?
I was seriously debating whether to ask Yejin to grill the pork belly first or the beef when I got home, when I belatedly noticed the Dunkin’ Donuts in the part-timer’s hands.
Bread for lunch. And donuts at that? Not bad.
But if I filled up on that, all those countless meats dying together in the dead refrigerator would probably wander the underworld in resentment.
Chaos, pure chaos. What snapped my brain out of floundering in the sea of appetite was the part-timer’s flustered words.
“Uh, the meat section is on the third floor, but it’s pretty dangerous…”
“So if I go up, I’ll see it right away?”
“Ah, no. If you take the emergency exit, go up, turn left, and keep going…”
For a moment his old part-time habits kicked in and he smoothly gave directions, then he came to his senses and hurriedly waved his hands.
“No, no. Knowing the location doesn’t matter. I said it’s dangerous! We don’t know where or how many of those monsters there are. But how did you really get here alone?”
Even the upper floors inside were that dangerous. Coming here alone after punching through the monsters outside? It was an achievement hard to believe even after hearing it.
But I had no intention of clearing up the part-timer’s full load of questions.
Just not stealing one of those donut boxes piled up next to him was already doing my part.
I thought about giving him something for the directions, but after glancing at the overflowing food section on the first floor, I dropped the idea.
“Yeah. Well, right. Thanks for telling me. Then.”
“Hey, wait!”
As I naturally dodged the part-timer’s hand trying to stop me from walking up the stopped escalator—insisting it was really dangerous—and started moving—
“Hey. Stop right there.”
A heavy voice called me to a halt.
I turned my head to see some gorilla striding this way.
Meeting eyes with a man in his thirties, at least 190 cm tall and armed with muscles that turned a thick winter T-shirt into a tight fit, I thought:
Yeah. Getting to eat free meat to my heart’s content wasn’t going to be that easy.
“Thought I might’ve been mistaken, but that’s a face I’ve never seen before. How’d you get in?”
“Front gate was blocked so I came in through the backyard.”
“Don’t feed me bullshit that won’t even stick. The parking lot over there is crawling with corpses—we already tried to block it like the front gate and gave up yesterday.”
Had the zombies all retreated overnight or something?
I looked into those eyes full of distrust and pondered.
If I just say I smashed all their skulls and came in, he won’t believe it.
Obvious. I’d be lucky if he didn’t go off saying I was mocking him.
“…Well, however I got in, this department store isn’t even mine, so I can let that slide roughly. But what’s in that hand of yours—I can’t let that slide even if I want to.”
At those words I glanced down at the newly acquired metal safety bar and reluctantly agreed.
The part-timer finally noticed the blood and unknown fluids dripping from it and freaked out.
I’d picked it up by chance in the parking lot and tested its power a bit—the hand feel was so good I’d gotten a little carried away. That was the cause.
“What the hell did you do with that? Don’t tell me you got it that covered fighting corpses.”
“Seems more persuasive than saying I killed people, doesn’t it?”
“Cut the crap. All that blood is from dead people? Looks like you bashed at least ten skulls’ worth.”
The stainless steel that should have been reflecting silver light was completely mangled and discolored—truly gruesome.
I’d only picked it up less than an hour ago. As the man said earlier, there were just that many gathered in the parking lot.
And around this point, I started getting annoyed too.
I couldn’t care less if he misunderstood that I’d killed people, but holding someone up over that was a different story.
Even now the meats left at room temperature were spoiling in real time. I needed to eat them while I still could, even for a moment.
I let out a small sigh and said,
“Just let it go roughly. I’ll be out of here in less than an hour anyway.”
“How am I supposed to believe that.”
The man furrowed his brow even more at my snarky attitude and glared at me with narrowed eyes.
“Your crew. Waiting outside right now, aren’t they? No way you came here alone, of course. Sneak in, lower our guard, check our numbers, then make your move.”
“But if you really wanted to do that, you should’ve left that disgusting weapon behind.”
“.....”
His flights of fancy were almost at genre-novel level.
But the man, as if even more convinced by such speculation, looked down at me with a dirty gaze and spat dryly.
“You maggot bastard. In a situation like this, you wanna live by killing others? You’re all dead.”
Having reached his own conclusion, he suddenly grabbed me by the collar and lifted me up—
I also gave up on continuing the conversation.
No, more precisely, I no longer felt the need.
This guy and the three approaching from behind—best to subdue them all right now and go shopping.
The moment that thought crossed my mind, the man’s thick palm slapped my cheek.
Crack—
Of course there was no pain, but the feeling of being completely caught at that point snapped the limiter on my behavior that had been trying to understand the man’s position.
Grab—
I seized the man’s pinky finger with my right hand and bent it mercilessly.
As the man twitched his eyebrows in pain and let go of my collar, I raised the safety bar in my left hand, aimed it at him, and swung it with a muttered line.
“You’re the one who started it. Remember that.”
Whoosh—
Thud—!
And the man blocked it lightly with one arm and spat out,
“Bullshit. Brat.”
BAM—!
A front kick with weight ranking in the top few percent of humans slammed into my chest, sending my body flying several meters with ease.
Crash—
After tumbling a few times and hitting the wall, I saw the safety bar I’d unconsciously dropped rolling beside me from the impact.
The man kicked it away irritably, then looked down at me growling.
“Seeing you swing a blunt weapon at someone’s head over one slap to the face, it’s obvious. That habit of yours. I’ll kindly fix it for you.”
“.....”
The bulk and muscles weren’t just for show.
But so what.
I slowly got into stance and stood up, then lightly rolled my neck that was briefly sore from hitting the wall.
As the man charged like a wild boar and threw a punch at me, I stared straight at it and thought.
Can he wield that brute strength forever?
Before the fist fully struck my face, I quickly twisted to let the impact flow, then with unbroken posture dove into the man’s embrace.
Since I’d gotten this tension-killing body, I might as well enjoy it differently.
I tried implementing that move I’d once seen in a novel, right here in reality.
I stabbed under his armpit with a hand that had only the thumb extended, and the man’s body contracted from the unexpected pain in shock.
Then I rose on tiptoes and struck his Adam’s apple.
He stumbled back with a kuaah as his breath burst out, coughing and clutching his throat as he looked this way in disbelief.
He seemed curious how someone who’d taken his front kick dead-on and flown off could stand up and counterattack.
“Cough, cough. You crazy bastard. Don’t your ribs hurt?”
“Hmm.”
At those words I lightly patted my chest and felt the misaligned ribs wriggle on their own back into place.
“Not really. Your kicks are pretty weak.”
Watching his dumbfounded expression, I added,
“Mister. You’d better step it up. This is just the beginning.”