Slave No. 1
“Eat it now so you don't regret it later when there's nothing left.”
Jeong Da-jeong stared at Cheongun, who sat across from her shoveling down his bowl of gukbap, and felt a cold certainty settle in. This guy's insane.
A quick glance around. Blood everywhere in the gukbap joint. And that wasn't all—zombie corpses from the ones he'd just killed littered the place, with a head-smashed zombie at the next table staring right at them.
It was enough to kill any appetite and bring up bile, but...
“Ah, too bad I won't get to eat this for a while. Sad times.”
He kept scooping it up like it was the best thing ever. Her stomach growled before her mind could catch up. Grrrrowl.
“Eat it while I'm asking nicely.”
“...”
Reluctantly, she picked up her spoon. But the blood associations kept her from touching the bright red side dishes.
“Aww, there we go. Looks so much better when you're eating.”
“.....”
If it stopped there... she might've chalked it up to him being a guy with higher tolerance for gore. But no—the real problem was what he'd done before they got here, raiding those supermarkets and convenience stores.
“Hey, over there.”
He'd parked the yogurt cart right in front of a zombie, not avoiding it but steering straight into it on command.
“This is what they call drive-thru, you pedestrian fucks!”
Takang. Takang. Takang.
“Hahahat! Proficiency shooting up nice.”
Firing the nail gun while laughing like that—he didn't look sane at all.
And that wasn't even the worst. Ding, ding, ding, ding.
“Checkout here!”
He'd rung the hell out of the bell in the supermarket, drawing all the zombies inside, then toppled the shelves to crush them. Climbed on top and hammered the ones poking out.
Thwack, thwack, thwack.
“Why play whack-a-mole? Zombie whack's way more fun—!”
The peak was leaving the last supermarket. Some ajusshi who'd been hiding burst out from a corner.
Bang!
“Aigoo, aigoo! Kids! Please, take me too...”
“Kyaak—!”
Takang.
“Urk.”
“Gave me a scare. Thought you were a zombie.”
He'd killed a human, not a zombie, but brushed it off like stepping on an ant. She stared in shock... and swallowed hard.
—Ah. Right. He kills anything that twitches?
Remembering his earlier threat to kill her if she didn't obey. She could only tremble and follow orders.
Just hold on a little longer. She still clung to her sanity. Cops or soldiers would show up soon, fix this madness, save her from this psycho. She believed it.
Whether Jeong Da-jeong believed or not, Cheongun had other worries.
Free Stats: 1 | EXP: 130/400
Status: Mild Fatigue
What to invest in this time.
Three level-ups so far, three free stats gained. The first two went into Strength to fix that pathetic 4.
Agility's already high. Intellect... not right now.
He still didn't get what the variable 3-7 Intellect meant. No wasting precious early stats there. Same for Fear or Mental.
Vitality made sense for sustainability... but the weapon skills from fights so far changed things.
[Passive Skill]
Short blade attacks are slightly sharper.
Short blade attacks are slightly faster.
Short blade edge wear is slightly reduced.
Main Stat: Agility | Sub: Strength
[Passive Skill]
Blunt attacks are slightly stronger.
Blunt attacks slightly ignore enemy defense.
Stamina cost for blunt weapons slightly reduced.
Attack power rises proportional to Strength.
Main Stat: Strength | Sub: Vitality
[Passive Skill]
Pistol accuracy slightly increased.
Pistol recoil slightly reduced.
Pistol reload speed very slightly reduced.
Main Stat: Intellect | Sub: Mental
Go for the gut—Strength—or play safe?
Strength would boost current combat meaningfully, letting him hunt in zombie-dense downtown. Vitality wouldn't shine immediately but let him carry more, reduce fatigue burden, speed up long-term farming.
Or specialize in guns...
Nah, guns become dead weight later.
Without certainty of a shooting job, wrong class meant trash build.
He agonized over it until Jeong Da-jeong urgently called out.
“Um, over there... those things...”
Thud. Thud.
“Grraaah...”
“Grrk... hung...”
Finally looking where her finger pointed: two zombies pressed against the locked glass door.
Irritation spiked.
“Just two zombies? Handle it yourself...”
Ah?
Wait, yeah. Why agonize over Strength or Vitality?
If I can't invest in both, make her handle one.
Shing.
“Here, catch.”
“Pardon?”
He tossed the axe into her hands and strode over, flinging the door open.
“Grraaah...”
“Urrrgh. Aaah.”
Zombies charged through. He raised his machete, slicing their arms off one by one.
Squelch, squelch.
“Urghh.”
“Grrk. Grraaah—!”
Armless but relentless, he grabbed their throats.
Snap. Crack.
“Ugh, the smell—brush your teeth before living, seriously.”
Holding the snapping zombies, he turned to her cowering in the corner.
“Hey.”
“Y-yes?!”
“Ready?”
“Huh?”
“Told you upfront: won't die unless you smash the head.”
She didn't get it, but no matter. Seeing was believing—he shoved one zombie her way.
“Grrrk...?”
The zombie glanced between them, then turned to the closer her.
“Kyaak—!”
Stomp, stomp.
“Grraaah—.”
“Save me!”
She ran to him like always, but he countered by shoving his zombie at her.
Snap, snap.
“Kyaak!”
Flesh-ripping teeth inches away, she bolted in terror.
Stomp, stomp.
“Grrk. Grraaah—.”
Crash, tumble.
“Stay back! Don't come!”
She fled in panic, zombie chased; she glanced back and fled again... circling the store like tag.
He sighed watching.
“Can't kill it in 30 seconds? Send another.”
Her disbelieving look met his deadpan face—no trace of a joke.
Then it hit her: this psycho would do it, and wouldn't blink if she became zombie chow.
She froze.
“Ah... ugh...”
Trembling hands steadied desperately; she slowly raised the axe.
I can do it, Da-jeong. Please, I have to.
Gross, scary. Zombie munching people still fresh in mind... but she didn't want to die like this.
She swung down.
Squish. Crack.
“Grrk—.”
“Eek...!”
Axe stopped in flesh, not cracking skull. Eyes squeezed shut, she swung again.
“Aaaah—!”
Squish, squish, squish...
Twice, thrice, four times...
Splinter-crack.
“Urrgh...”
Thud.
Axe buried deep; zombie flopped like a marionette with cut strings.
“Hah, hah, hah...”
He asked softly at her panting.
“No way it happened, but... no awakening message or anything?”
“Huh?”
Figures, she's not even an extra who shows up.
Even novel protag took time for first awakening and level-up. His was unusually fast; no expectations.
Not disappointed, though. Zombies everywhere. No zombie survives ten misses.
“Got the feel? From now on, no arm-chopping—bring 'em whole.”
This time, no question from her.
“Ah...”
Deep sigh as she eyed the approaching zombie. One after another... he kept bringing them, until she finally hit LV.1.
Stacking the Vitality he'd needed.
...A bit later, sun dipping low.
Streets quiet now—killable zombies all dead, no more noise.
Yogurt cart full, her duffel bag stuffed with loot. Cheongun eyed her dully pushing the cart.
“Fun day, huh?”
“.....”
“Answer.”
“...Yes.”
Only then did he nod satisfied, facing forward.
Housing district emerging ahead.
Call it here for today. Tomorrow, snag a bike.
Roads jammed—no cars. Yogurt cart okay for sidewalks interim, but too damn slow.
Bikes aside...
Filtering tomorrow's farm spots, a suitable house caught his eye.
“Park it up front.”
Iron gate, walled yard. Open sides iffy for base, but fine temporary.
He hopped the wall, opened the gate.
“Clear surroundings, then move all the stuff.”
Shing.
Drawing weapon on a trailing zombie.
“Alone...?”
“What?”
His sharp glare made her stammer on.
“Th-there might be things inside...”
“Kill 'em.”
Dismissing her gripe, he walked off. She shut her eyes tight and entered.
Luckily, windows showed dusty emptiness—no zombies.
But how to get in...?
Checked flowerpot by door—no key. No unlocked window.
She paced helplessly till he returned.
“What? Striking? Wanna die?”
“Ah, uh... no key...”
Before she finished, he smashed the window with his axe.
Crash!
Thud, thud.
Cleared shards from frame in seconds, hopped in.
Click.
Front door opened soon after.
“Good now?”
She nodded a beat late; he sighed.
Stupid, or just slow to adapt?
Intellect 5 was average—probably the latter.
Frustrating as hell.
Can't open door? Smash window. Clothes dirty? Ditch 'em. Zombie or human—who cares? No cops coming anyway.
All day this, still stuck in old world thinking. Should've died early, not even make the novel...
“Huh?”
A thought flashed.
Wait, protagonist too... him too... then...
No, no. That char definitely...
...And him too...
“Ha-. Hahahat-.”
Maybe the awakening condition. Or a way to force it toward a specific job.
He felt like he knew.