Im Jui (1)
The pork belly sizzled on the grill, and beside it, the garlic fried in the rendered fat. The three of us stared at the simply seasoned meat—salt and pepper only—with mouths watering, our silence reverent.
No gochujang, no ssamjang, not even kimchi on the table, but no one complained or sulked. We were just overwhelmed by the miracle of fresh pork belly, something we'd never thought we'd taste again before we died.
"Looks done. Let's eat."
The sisters stared at me blankly. They always saw me as the head of the house; they wouldn't touch their chopsticks until I did first, no matter the meal.
I picked up a piece of sizzling pork and popped it into my mouth.
"Whew."
The salty seasoning and fresh fat coated my tongue like velvet. Nothing like the canned meat or the greasy slabs in MREs. As the pure, untainted pork fat slid down my throat, a tingling electric thrill shot from my toes upward.
"It's delicious. Dig in."
At my words, Han Seol and Han Byeol swiftly grabbed pieces and savored them.
"Mmm!"
They closed their eyes, lost in the flavor.
"Even crying, I'd have to admit this is good."
This was a taste you couldn't deny, even through tears. Han Seol and I wrapped ours with raw garlic; Han Byeol preferred roasted. Biting into the lettuce wrap, eyes shut, I wondered if this wasn't heaven itself.
Maybe I'd been too cold to Seo Su-yeon. What if she never came back? Next time, maybe bring eggs or chicken.
"Han Seol."
"Yes? Did you find something?"
"No, but I forgot to mention something from last time."
"What is it?"
"When we were cleaning up bodies, I saw people clearing the road a bit away from the house. Looks like they've cleared a lot now."
"Raiders? Any distinctive marks or insignias?"
"No, but the road they're clearing heads toward our house. Probably just my imagination?"
"Hmm..."
"What's a former intel officer's take?"
"No idea at all. Sir!"
"..."
Today, we decided to scout using the drones. It started last night during experiments—curious about the pincers' strength, I tested them on a small locked box. I figured it'd rip the box or lock off, but no. A welding-tool-like device emerged from its belly and sliced the lock clean, opening the box.
At this point, there was no comparison. It reminded me of games from the old days, so I dubbed the function Plasma Cutter.
Thus, today we went full recon with two drones. I sat on the sofa, eyes closed, focusing on control, while Han Seol and Han Byeol acted as operators—describing what I saw and offering advice.
"Huh?"
Something flew from afar. Closer now, I could make it out.
"Kieeeek!"
Too twisted and grotesque for a bird, too feathered for a pterodactyl—a monstrous bird. A monster.
"Flying monster inbound. Dissolving liquid?"
"Yes. Plenty of altitude to spare—fire without hesitation. Preemptive strikes are key against monsters. Most have beast-level intelligence; they can't even conceive of dodging smaller foes' attacks."
Han Seol said firmly.
The monster, thinking the drone was prey, charged with beak agape.
Tang—
The dissolving liquid sphere shot into its maw.
"Aimed for the mouth—it swallowed."
"It's done."
"Kieeeek!"
Seconds later, it screamed, purple blood and smoke spewing from its mouth as it plummeted. Last sight: a hole punched through its belly.
"Picked high altitude to avoid eyes, but low flight better?"
"No, sir. Keep altitude. Better than awakeners spotting us."
"Yes, but what are you two doing?"
At some point, Han Seol and Han Byeol had each taken one of my hands.
"Your hands felt cold this morning in the basement... Raynaud's?"
"Yes."
"I just copied Seol."
"..."
Warm. My cold hands thawed as hot blood coursed through, heart starting to pound.
I'd assumed every building in Seoul was looted, but Han Seol said plenty remained untouched. High monster spawn or survivor hotspots still held supplies. Monsters slaughtered each other often, thinning weak ones. Strong ones nested in big spots like university hospitals or hypermarkets, rarely stirring unless provoked. That's why the current government clung on—their loyalists purged hospitals, stockpiling drugs and tools.
"High-rise apartments ahead. Checking there."
A complex, maybe 30 stories, came into view. Higher floors less likely looted, so start at 20th and work up.
Two households per floor.
"Starting with 2001."
Door locked, naturally. Plasma cutter sliced the mechanism; door opened. Drones entered slowly.
Clothes strewn, doors and drawers open. No bodies—good.
"Looted, or owners fled in haste?"
"Front door locked, so not looted."
"Kigik."
"Huh? Hear that...?"
"What sound?"
"Kigigik."
Front door locked, but balcony glass shattered. Something climbed up, broke in.
Chills crawled over me. Sound from above.
Looking up—eight black, pupil-less eyes on a man-sized spider with three pairs of legs lunged at the drone.
"Kigigigik!"
"Argh! Shit!"
"Do-hyun? What happened?"
Not me, but the drone—still, full-body 4D horror. Firing dissolving liquid would wreck the place; drones tough, but against their own ammo? Unknown.
Bzzt—
"Kiiiik!"
Pinned drone deployed plasma cutter, bisecting the spider's belly. It shrieked, struggling, but pincers held it; second drone grabbed the head, cutter into brain.
"Kigik... kik."
Spider down.
"Phew... Man-sized spider ambushed. Sliced its belly with plasma cutter, dead. Drone messy but undamaged."
"Eight eyes, three leg pairs?"
"Yes. Know it?"
"Stalker. Nests in empty houses, ambushes from ceilings."
"Creepy..."
"Sir! Stalkers are edible."
"Eat that?"
"Rare unless desperate, but confirmed edible."
"..."
What kind of lives did outsiders live?
The ambushed drone carried the bag—now spider-gutted.
"Ah, eco-bag there. Sturdy—perfect."
Owners took what they could; little left. Top kitchen drawer: unopened cans and such.
"Six tuna cans, three peach cans, four 1.5L waters, small box."
Box: unopened ointments, bandages, medical dressings.
"Do-hyun, lucky find."
"Kinda fun, this."
First taste of looting thrill. Han Byeol chimed in.
"Drones make it fun, right?"
True. Imagining myself facing that spider? Nightmare fuel.
Still, I grinned at her. "Han Byeol, you haven't been sleeping well. Not sleepy now? Intel officer with zero info skills..."
"Hmph."
She squeezed my hand harder.
"Ow! Sorry, Han Byeol."
"Byeol! Do-hyun's focusing..."
Han Byeol bruised satisfyingly; lately, teasing her was a hobby.
"Next door. Clothes intact—take?"
"Bag space after full scout."
"Got it."
Turning drones to exit—man with bag and axe in hand, tense at the door.
"Han Seol, Han Byeol—human contact. At front door."
"Pistol or rifle?"
"No, just axe."
Han Byeol nudged my arm. "Sir, definitely an awakener."
"Basis?"
"Strong awakeners ditch guns as useless, go melee. Especially bare-handed in danger zones—run on sight."
"He doesn't look hostile. Try talking?"
"Yes. Two drones with eco-bags scavenging? He's probably stunned."
I activated voice. "I have the power to kill you. No need for pointless fights. I'll let you go—leave."
The man, hearing the bag-drone speak, sweated, face pale. Silence stretched; he eyed the dead spider bleeding in the living room.
"Can you promise not to kill me? I just came to check for leftovers."
"I promise. Leave as-is, no pursuit."
"I'll trust you."
He lowered his hands, backing away slowly.
Then—
"Daddy!"
A girl, about ten, ran and hugged him from behind.
"H-Hyun-jeong? Daddy said wait downstairs... Where's Mommy?"
Footsteps on stairs, woman's shout.
"Hyun-jeong! Don't run off! Honey, sorry, she just—huh?"
The woman grabbed her daughter's hand, then froze at the drones.
"Mommy, what's that? Toys?"
"Honey, take Hyun-jeong down..."
Parents looked gaunt, but the child healthy—they prioritized her food.
"Ha... damn. This is cheating."
"Do-hyun, what happened?"
"Sir! Any hostility, strike first!"
"Not that. Driving me crazy..."
