Clear Priorities

Kwak Han-muk's jaw dropped.

"...Whoa."

He dashed over in a single bound and slung his arm heavily over my shoulders with a dull thud.

"I've been called a crazy bastard plenty of times, but I've never called anyone else that."

Baring his sharp canines, Kwak Han-muk grinned and offered his praise.

"Goyo, you... you're a real crazy bastard."

"Thank you."

When I thanked him, he burst into a hearty laugh.

I picked up a baseball bat from the ground and handed it to him as a gift.

Gaining confidence from his enthusiastic cooperation, I laid out my plan.

"There's a group that has taken over a convenience store."

The bastards who occupied the large convenience store had committed every crime imaginable in a zombie apocalypse: murder, arson, looting. There were about five or six of them, and if left alone, they would plague players until the very end of Dead Zone Delivery. They were so vile that they made the zombies look pleasant.

In an apocalyptic world where public authority had collapsed, private justice was a necessity.

Clearing them out early on was the fastest way to beat the game.

"Let's go."

Having heard the brief explanation, Kwak Han-muk didn't ask any more questions. He tucked the baseball bat under his arm.

I led the casually strolling Kwak Han-muk to our destination. The name of the large convenience store was incredibly literal.

Through the clean glass storefront, the interior was fully visible.

The zombies in Dead Zone Delivery had degenerated sight and smell, reacting only to sound, which was why the occupiers hadn't bothered to cover the windows.

As soon as I recognized the convenience store, a system window popped up.

The system window spoke the truth. If I were playing alone, I would never have attempted this.

But now, I had a reliable trump card.

"That's the place."

The moment I pointed at the convenience store, Kwak Han-muk shot forward like an arrow.

Crash!

With a clean, powerful swing of his baseball bat, he shattered the front glass window and leaped inside amidst a shower of shards.

The bastards who had been lounging against the shelves and snickering scrambled to grab their weapons. One of them even had a gun, though where he'd found it was anyone's guess.

But against Kwak ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Han-muk, it was useless.

Bang!

The gunshot echoed through the space.

The bullet struck nothing but an innocent bag of chips.

As the poor potato chips exploded into unrecognizable dust, the baseball bat came down hard on the gunman's head.

With a sickening crack, the man collapsed face-first.

Kwak Han-muk deftly caught the gun as it slipped from the man's hand.

Slipping the firearm into his waistband, Kwak Han-muk swung his bat at the hesitating thugs.

A direct hit sent one man flying like a baseball, crashing into a shelf and knocking it over. A shower of hot chicken-flavored cup ramen rained down upon him.

Kwak Han-muk leaped off the collapsed shelf. A clean, mid-air kick struck a guy clumsily clutching a knife.

There was a vast difference between a professionally trained soldier and a bunch of punks in their early twenties who hadn't even served their mandatory military service yet.

It was an embarrassing gap, hardly worth mentioning.

I stood comfortably in the back, watching the show. My only job was to swing my bat and lay back down anyone squirming on the floor trying to get up.

The first man Kwak Han-muk had beaten groaned in agony.

"Fuck... Who the hell are you bastards..."

Ah!

I quickly rushed over to him.

And rescued a cup of hot chicken ramen just before it could be soaked in the blood he was spilling.

That was a close one. A precious food supply was almost ruined.

After turning the cup ramen over to make sure it was undamaged, I asked back, "Why do you care?"

The man glared up at me with bloodshot eyes. I tilted my head and said, "Knowing who I am isn't going to extend your lifespan anyway."

"What? ...Ugh!"

As the man tried to shout something in disbelief, I gave him a light tap with the baseball bat.

Unable to utter any more useless words, the man quietly closed his eyes and passed out.

Kwak Han-muk was still running wild.

I waited while gathering the scattered food, and before long, the only sound left in the convenience store was the groans of unconscious men.

It was a victory that couldn't possibly be ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠any cleaner.

Kwak Han-muk checked the victory notification on his system window and smacked his lips.

"That's it?"

He swung his bat through the empty air, looking disappointed.

"You're the best, Captain Kwak."

I gave him a double thumbs-up.

I look forward to using your services often in the future, Captain.

Kwak Han-muk grinned at my sincere flattery, aimed at securing our future cooperation. Resting the baseball bat on his shoulder, he said, "This is fucking fun. Goyo, let's do something like this again, yeah?"

Indeed, there would be plenty of opportunities for him to shine in Dead Zone Delivery.

Smashing zombies hard, breaking zombies into pieces, hitting zombies like home runs, and so on.

Just as I was feeling pleased with myself for giving him a job suited to his aptitude, the system window popped up.

Since I refused to register Mo Hae-in, the system was now compromising on its own.

Accustomed to ignoring the system windows, I picked up a backpack lying on the floor.

Since Dead Zone Delivery didn't have a default inventory, farming a backpack was a must.

It was a setting designed to enhance realism, but having to pack everything manually was incredibly tedious.

I began stuffing food into the backpack. As I reached for a hot chicken cup ramen, my eyes caught the writing on the packaging.

It looked just like a regular Korean cup ramen, but the description on the packaging was bizarre.

When I checked item descriptions in the game, it usually just gave a simple explanation of what flavor it was.

Since this was my first time seeing the actual packaging, I examined the other foods around me.

The triangular rice balls were equally disastrous. If this weren't a zombie apocalypse, I wouldn't have wanted to touch them with a ten-foot pole based on those descriptions.

"Goyo, what's up?"

Kwak Han-muk, who had picked up some chocolate candies, tore open the bag and poured a handful into his mouth as he asked.

"The descriptions are just... very peculiar."

"Trials are always like that."

True, item descriptions in trials were often bizarre.

While I packed the food, Kwak Han-muk tossed a couple of snacks into my backpack and neatly bound the convenience store occupiers, piling them in a corner.

Finishing up, he cracked his knuckles with a sharp pop.

"So, should we kill these bastards?"

"There's no need for you to trouble yourself, Captain. They have their uses."

This amount of food seemed enough to feed the three of us. Slinging the backpack over my shoulder, I looked out the window.

"Groooan..."

Zombies, drawn by the gunshot, were dragging their feet toward the convenience store. At a glance, there were dozens of them surrounding the place.

"Let's feed the zombies before we go."

I returned the favor, doing to the occupiers exactly what they had done to the survivors they kidnapped in the Green Zone.

I used them as bait.

Kwak Han-muk and I safely slipped past the swarming horde. Kwak Han-muk whistled softly as he watched the zombies feast.

"Now, it would be best to head to the Green Zone and regroup with Captain Mo."

"Sure."

Answering readily, he followed behind me, then suddenly asked, "Goyo, you're twenty-four?"

"Yes."

"That's a seven-year difference between us."

Click.

The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sound of a gun being cocked echoed in the quiet air.

I stopped in my tracks. Hoping it wasn't what I thought, I slowly turned around.

"Even if we know this trial is just an illusionary space that repeats infinitely... when you're actually facing it..."

But his barrel was pointed straight at me.

"Even Adaptors who have been trained ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to hell and back by the Sidae Agency find it hard to act so ruthlessly without hesitation."

Kwak Han-muk made a mock shooting sound with his mouth. "Bang, bang."

"But you, Goyo... you just fed people to the zombies without batting an eye."

It was a reasonable suspicion. But that was only because it was a trial; otherwise, I would...

Well.

Recalling Park Seong-gyeon, who had turned into a golden firework, I corrected my thoughts.

"I suppose I'm a bit cold-hearted."

"A bit?"

"Well, I have to survive first."

Kwak Han-muk literally cackled out loud.

My answer didn't seem to displease him, but since my opponent was Captain Kwak, I couldn't be sure if it was a passing grade. He was the type of man who could laugh like that and still pull the trigger.

"I just... have very clear priorities."

Speaking slowly, I walked toward Kwak Han-muk.

I stopped right in front of his gun barrel.

"And my priorities include you, Captain Kwak."

Kwak Han-muk stared at me intently. Answering the unasked question in his eyes, I said, "We're a team, aren't we?"

We're on the same side, so stop doubting me. I don't stab my teammates in the back.

I couldn't say it so bluntly, but there was no way Kwak Han-muk would miss my meaning.

He burst into a hearty laugh and slipped the gun back inside his baseball jacket.

"I really can't beat you, Hyeong-nim."

I didn't know why he was calling me 'Hyeong-nim' when he was seven years older, but I quickly replied, "Thank you for trusting me."

If he had kept the gun pointed at me, things would have gotten complicated in many ways. I was glad; I really didn't want to blow Kwak Han-muk's head off.

I took Kwak Han-muk to a gunsmith shop.

Normally in the game, you could only find the hidden location and entry method of the gunsmith after completing all sorts of tedious miscellaneous quests.

However, I guided him there as if it were my own home, and Kwak Han-muk looted the items as if it were his.

Seeing Kwak Han-muk follow me without a single complaint gave me a slightly strange feeling.

I hadn't given the Sidae Agency a proper explanation.

Only Samra knew that I had experienced the trials and the characters involved through a game.

Yet, the Sidae Agency hadn't questioned me at all since the formation of the special task force.

Kwak Han-muk was the same. He didn't say much to me, even though I was laying out strategies and the locations of rare items.

They probably don't care what I am, as long as I can close the trial.

It was an attitude that clearly showed they intended to use me as a tool.

I knew the Sidae Agency was highly pragmatic, but it certainly didn't feel like a typical government agency.

By the time we finished looting the gunsmith, the sun was already setting.

Carrying an additional duffel bag, I headed toward the Green Zone with the crimson sunset at my back.

Zombies were sluggish during the day, but their speed increased dramatically at night.

If we didn't want to get into a high-speed chase with running zombies, it was best to reach the Green Zone before dark.

Dead Zone Delivery was divided into four zones.

The Green Zone was the safe zone where survivors gathered.

Here, only a very small number of zombies appeared rarely, weak enough for survivors to handle.

The Yellow Zone was where players actually started the game, and where zombies began to appear in earnest. The number of zombies was low during the day, but doubled at night.

The Red Zone was crawling with zombies day and night.

And finally, the Dead Zone.

In the Dead Zone, the entire area was treated as night even if the sun was up, and entities called 'Dead Zombies' appeared.

These were zombies with physical strength and speed far superior to ordinary ones.

The research laboratory, our delivery destination, was located in the Dead Zone.

If played by the book, a player would have to sufficiently build up their stats before they could even attempt the delivery.

Of course, that conventional method didn't apply to me.

Before entering the Green Zone, I asked Kwak Han-muk to do one thing—something he would be exceptionally good at.

Kwak Han-muk found it highly amusing and readily agreed to my request.

As we entered the Green Zone, the number of wandering zombies visibly plummeted.

The place where the survivors gathered was an elementary school.

The people standing guard at the iron gates wrapped in barbed wire cast wary glances at us.

Having a couple of guys point guns at me was nothing to write home about anymore, so I simply opened my backpack to show them.

Their eyes widened at the sight of a backpack stuffed with food.

"I'll give you information on food supplies, so please call a woman named Mo Hae-in. She should have arrived here today."

Suspicion or not, everything took a backseat in the face of food. One of them scrambled inside.

Before long, a man who looked to be in his fifties appeared, flanked by several subordinates.

"Where did you get the food?"

Mo Hae-in was nowhere to be seen.

Kwak Han-muk and I looked at each other.

There was no way Mo Hae-in would be held back from coming out just because a few flimsy men stood in her way.

She would have noticed the commotion outside, yet her silence meant only one thing.

She hadn't made it to the Green Zone.

Why?

There was absolutely no reason for her to fail, which made it even more baffling.

Kwak Han-muk furrowed his brow, letting out a low hum. Then, lowering his voice, he whispered to me:

"Captain Mo... I think she might have been bitten."