Canned Loot and Rina's Urgent Cravings
Sergeant: Baek Jaesung 23
Our 3rd Company's operational policy was set: completely clear out the residential district. If we tidied up this neighborhood—the one with the highest monster density in our sector—it would accelerate the full dungeon conquest.
I wanted out of this damn dungeon ASAP. Camping in discomfort sucked, and no matter how many monsters we killed, not a single byproduct dropped. That was the worst part.
The military bans monster byproduct collection in all but a few special cases. The weight weakens combat effectiveness, and distribution issues can spark internal conflicts.
It's a surprisingly strict rule. If you're caught smuggling byproducts, the punishment is no joke. Worst case, extended service. Just thinking about it is horrifying.
Even with penalties that brutal, human greed knows no bounds. Every year, some dungeon hunters get busted for sneaking out byproducts.
Talk about balls of steel. Makes me wonder if I'm the only one secretly fucking in dungeons.
Night fell on the third day. We'd claimed a large supermarket building with a white exterior as our camp. Its parking lot could hold over a hundred cars. Fortunately, no monster presence inside.
We swept the interior. Thorough searches were essential in case something was hiding.
The place was a total wreck. Shelves spilled over with goods, drink fridges hastily looted, cash registers crudely pried open with tools. Looked like opportunists had ransacked it during the chaos.
For them, the dungeonization was a golden looting opportunity. With most of Ben Aivies turned dungeon, those robbers probably lost their homes too.
Poetic justice. No sympathy here.
"Hey, there's stuff left in this storeroom! We hit the jackpot!"
Jang Gun-gi pointed at a half-open warehouse door, traces of forced entry everywhere—robber handiwork. But they hadn't cleared it out; some goods remained.
"Oh! Canned bread here!"
Jang Gun-gi grinned, checking the cans.
"Ice cream's all melted."
Hwang Cheolmin peered into the freezer, grimacing as he lifted a soggy ice bar from the open door.
Power's been out about a month, so even "indefinite shelf life" ice cream was inedible. Melted like that, it was basically juice.
Port Elizabeth had a warm, temperate climate. Inland, it got hotter and drier—Ben Aivies felt like early Korean summer. Hot, but dry enough to bear.
The supermarket's edible picks were bagged snacks and cans—stuff the looters missed. We gathered them, and the company formed a circle.
Food resupply is critical in dungeons. Worst case, you're choking down calorie bars: fist-sized, meal-equivalent calorie bombs that sacrifice taste entirely.
"Can we just eat this stuff?"
Rina eyed a sweet corn can, asking the company commander. He nodded without hesitation.
"Using scavenged food or clothes during rescue ops is fully legal."
Makes sense. Unlike casual hunts where you can pop in and out for resupply, full conquests for rescues leave little downtime. Lingering risks delays, which snowball into massive losses. So they cut slack for on-site scavenging.
Not generosity—basic necessity.
"Everyone, check your rations. Just calorie bars left?"
We rummaged our packs. Spot on—only those flavorless bricks remained.
Hwang Cheolmin wrinkled his nose, shoving his back in.
"These are fucking gross. Like ground cockroach."
Has this guy actually eaten ground cockroach?
Somehow, it fit him.
"Ever eaten cockroach?"
Jang Gun-gi voiced my exact thought. Hwang Cheolmin shook his head in disbelief.
"Just a figure of speech."
"Oh... felt like you might've."
This guy's mind synced with mine surprisingly well.
"Wh-what's that supposed to mean?"
"Kid in my village ate ants on the playground."
Our apartment complex had one too. Traumatized me—couldn't go near playgrounds after seeing him pop wriggling ants.
"Ants are normal. Not cockroach!"
Hwang Cheolmin's logic was worlds from common sense.
Whatever—he's always been like that.
"Dinner time. Check expiration dates. Food poisoning would be a nightmare."
The commander spurred us on.
"Haha, don't worry. We're not kids."
Hwang Cheolmin laughed boldly. We cracked open cans: Rina sweet corn, him ham, Jang Gun-gi bread.
The commander munched calorie bars. Those things were fucking nasty.
"Sir, you good?"
Hwang Cheolmin eyed him chewing the "cockroach" bars.
"Better than cockroach. Soldiers eat this."
"Ugh! Eaten cockroach?"
"Similar monster. Tasted just like it looked."
What the hell does cockroach taste like?
Lost my appetite. Rina quietly set down her spoon.
"I'll check the back."
Han Seungjin slipped away. Hadn't even opened a can or bar.
Fasting today?
He'd been active—must be hungry.
"Just a small storeroom and break room back there."
Hwang Cheolmin chomped ham. Looked salty as fuck.
Foreign hams are saltier than Korean ones. Tried U.S. once—insanely salty. South African version unknown.
"Check the break room. Might be useful stuff."
"Yeah. Don't go far."
The commander sent him off casually. Interior cleared; even if monsters hid, Han Seungjin's power handled it. Sharp, commander-level judgment.
Rina stood, appetite killed, glaring at Hwang Cheolmin—the cockroach story starter.
He was oblivious, scarfing ham.
"Whoa, that bread looks salty."
"Says the guy spooning canned ham..."
Hwang Cheolmin eyed Jang Gun-gi's food; they bantered. Mostly him talking, the other listening.
Hard to get a word in with him—three sentences per one's turn.
"Oppa."
Rina called softly. Digital camo uniform, white bob swept back, looking up like a manga heroine.
Rare sight in rom-coms: heroine in fatigues.
Witnessing it for real? I'm one lucky bastard.
"Come here a sec."
She grabbed my wrist—urgent grip.
What did this mean? I knew the answer.
"Heh. Roasted Yeonji yesterday, but you're desperate too, huh? Yeah, holding back from fucking this oppa ain't easy."
"Hmph! What delusion?"
She crossed arms, rolling eyes. Wrong time for pride.
Peel off those pants, and thin pussy juice would drip from her slit.
"You're backed up."
"N-no I'm not!"
Weapon maintenance is soldier basics. Leftover oil rusts; if pussy juice lingered on her holy relic, my premium tool would clean it. Extra-large size—easy job.
"Heh. No need to play coy with oppa."
"Not coy. This way."
She led to a blind spot from the group. Shelves and fridges created plenty.
"Hiding from eyes for what?"
"No sex. Pants down."
Words and actions clashed. Deft hands unbuckled my belt.
As she tugged with both hands, I stopped her—like reining in a snack-hungry pup—pressing her forehead.
"Hold up."
"Eek! Wh-what?"
"Want 'em down? Use your mouth."
Commanding tone—not loud enough for others.
Glanced over: Hwang Cheolmin on bread now, Jang Gun-gi spooning ham.
Switched foods when?
"Ptoo! Fucking salty. Cheolmin, your tongue broken?"
"This bread's tasteless."
"'Cause you ate that ham first!"
They were in skit mode.
Commander still on calorie bars. No interruptions.
"Ugh...!"
Rina shot daggers. Not hating mouth-only service—I'd had it from her before.
Her glare? The thrill of company meters away, risk of getting caught. My nonchalance irked her.
Old saying: Haste makes waste. Outdoor play needs leisure. Her loss.
"Oppa, you're in for it later."
"Heh. Grown a lot, huh? Still tiny mouse turds."
"Ever seen mouse turds this big!?"
She yelped, then 'hmph!'—clamping her mouth, glancing back.
"Agh! Cheolmin! Expired!"
"What? Till 3230."
"That's the product code! Common sense—thousand-year shelf life?"
"It's canned."
Good—their comedy drowned her out.
Perfect for illicit fun.