The Pastor's Legacy
I flicked the light switch on in a hurry. The room brightened instantly. I ran my hands over my body, checking frantically. Had I been shot? The pain hadn't hit yet, but adrenaline could mask a bullet wound completely. Ah. Thank god. No gunshot wounds. No blood, no holes punched through me. The Pastor hadn't swapped in lethal rounds after all.
On the other hand, if that first shot had been live ammunition… A chill crawled down my spine. I didn't even want to imagine it. Instant death was bad enough. Even just getting injured was unacceptable. Hospitals were already suicide missions these days.
I quickly reviewed the lessons from this incident. If something feels even slightly off, pull out immediately. Never fight directly. Secure medical personnel.
Around that time, Jeon Dohyeong approached.
“Pastor…!”
His voice rang out, echoing. I glanced back. Jeon Dohyeong stood there trembling violently as he stared at the Pastor's corpse, blood still gurgling from the wound. He must have run over in a panic—his face was deathly pale without even a mask on. After nearly getting shot himself, the fear made sense.
I smiled and gave him a nod.
“Jeondo. You did well. Thanks to you, I was able to kill the Pastor. I appreciate it.”
“M-me…?”
Was this modesty? I decided to play along. I praised him with specific details about what he'd done right.
“You drew his attention, so I could shoot safely. If things had gone even a little wrong, I would've been the one who died.”
“Ah… yeah.”
Jeon Dohyeong's legs gave out and he collapsed to the floor. His hands came together as if in prayer, then lost their purpose and flailed in the air.
I slowly furrowed my brow. This wasn't the reaction I'd expected. …Had he already been brainwashed by the religion? Well, even I had been tempted. Anyway, there was no need to worry about it further. Despite appearances, he'd closed the door on people before, killing them, and he'd witnessed both zombies and humans die right in front of him. He'd pull himself together on his own.
More important was manipulating the scene.
First, the bullets.
I picked up the Pastor's pistol with my gloved hand. Two lethal rounds remained. I loaded one into the gun I'd return to the Thief Elder. The last bullet went into my hoodie pocket. This way, no one would know which gun the Pastor had actually died from.
After that, I returned to the room. Was something being recorded on the phone like a dying message?
A low voice came from behind me.
“What are you going to do now? Why did you kill the Pastor?”
“I need to take control of the church.”
I answered lightly. But it seemed like that wasn't enough explanation, so I added a few more words.
“The Pastor already had zombie blood in his mouth anyway. This was basically a vaccination. It's better to experience it early, when it's less dangerous, and prepare properly. If the Pastor turns into a zombie in three weeks…”
“Ah…”
I continued explaining while looking around the room. Since I hadn't mentioned this plan before, I needed to show this excellent marauder member a bright future. For example, new allies.
“Where do you think I got this gun in the first place?”
“By killing one of the elders?”
The answer came without hesitation. I turned around, dumbfounded.
“No. I don't kill people without reason. Well, acquiring firearms is reason enough, but I don't just go around murdering everyone. I'm not a maniac.”
“…”
“The elder cooperated too. This is more beneficial. We'll reduce the religious elements, proceed with fortification, recruit talent, and head in a more hopeful direction overall.”
Jeon Dohyeong, who had been staring at me with gloomy eyes, hung his head. Then he clenched his fists tightly, and a weak voice leaked out.
“You won't touch the other church people, right?”
“Why would I touch them when they're all labor?”
They'd farm, defend the fortress, gather resources. People were power itself. I gradually lost interest and focused on what I needed to do.
The Pastor's phone on the desk. When I pressed the power button, the screen lit up, displaying the title of the video he'd been watching.
How to Be Self-Sufficient in the City / Professor Kim
It was a video from the professor I'd introduced as my mentor. Next to the phone was the notebook where the Pastor had been studying diligently. I looked at the most recent sentence.
What can be grown in soil where the paving blocks have been torn up?
A comment I'd once made in passing. The answer to it.
Potatoes? Turnips? They say they grow well even in barren soil.
An odd emotion washed over me as I slowly flipped through the notebook. The pages were densely packed like a Bible. There were only problems, research, and answers. Just like the Pastor's unknowable personality, there wasn't a single personal thought written down.
Suddenly my head turned, and I looked at the Pastor's corpse with the hole in the back of his head.
I really don't know.
Curiosity bloomed late. What kind of person was he? What thoughts had he lived with? Did he really have antibodies? Did he truly believe he was chosen for a divine mission? There were so many questions I wanted answered, but they were already buried in the past. There was no way to know anymore.
I looked at the notebook again. Potatoes and turnips. My eyes closed.
Pastor. The hope you left behind—we will carry it forward.
Hope is not a material thing. Just as gold and firearms cannot be hope, antibodies as physical substances aren't hope either. True hope is something mental.
In my mind, I pictured the Pastor's face after the Chairman and the Professor. A leader who proposed the ultimate form of marauding and handled betrayal with practiced skill. Their teachings had passed to me, and those teachings would become the beacon of hope that illuminates the world. Just like the name of this Hope Church.
“Pastor. I will develop the community you left behind and make it prosper.”
“What a fucking lunatic…”
And so the morning arrived, with the sun rising to shine with hope.
I deliberately didn't sleep. I was incredibly tired, but it was for the sake of authentic acting—to create bloodshot eyes.
Facing the elders gathered around the Pastor's corpse, I spoke slowly in a hoarse voice.
“There was a gunshot early yesterday morning, and by the time we arrived… The first-floor window was open. It seems the intruder came through there…”
“This… this…”
The elders all looked down at the Pastor with shocked expressions. It was as if their faith was collapsing, as if they doubted reality, as if they were in despair. The intense shock seemed to have paralyzed everyone's brains. But as always, after a terrifying shock came irrational emotion.
“Traitor…”
“Judas! There's a Judas among us! A worthless human who sold the Pastor to Satan!”
A witch hunt. A mafia game that wouldn't end until someone was hanged. And I was confident. Confident that I could make them turn on someone else instead of me.
Seven people. Me and the Thief Elder make two. If roughly two disappear and I recruit just one more, the church will fall into my hands.
While I was thinking that, an attack suddenly came my way. The elder in charge of security and quarantine pointed at me.
“You! What were you doing all night! You live in the church—you should've been protecting the Pastor!”
“I… I woke up the moment I heard the gunshot and went to look, but…”
I squeezed my eyes shut. Seeing weakness, the Security Elder raised his voice even higher.
“If you'd just done your job with security properly from the beginning—”
“Security Elder. Isn't this your fault? Why didn't you secure the windows? If the windows had been locked…”
Right on cue, the Thief Elder provided an assist. I subtly opened my eyes to see the Security Elder jumping up and down with a red face.
“You thieving bastard! You—you did it! The only person who could sneak in at night is you!”
The Thief Elder didn't stay quiet either. Perhaps because he'd accumulated a lot of resentment, he shouted with a voice full of rage.
“Thief, thief! Am I a thief who steals human lives? Except for my time in the military, I've never even fired a gun!”
That was true. He'd only lent me the gun.
Around that time, the Evangelist Elder cleared his throat loudly. He spoke while looking at the back of the Pastor's head.
“He died from a gunshot wound. Everyone has firearms, right? Let's take them out. We'll check if any bullets are missing.”
“Here, look!”
The Thief Elder pulled out his gun first, and the other elders busily drew theirs as well. Soon their gazes turned to the person without a firearm. The grandmother and I, who originally didn't have guns, were passed over. The gaze landed on the Administrative Elder, whose face had gone pale.
The Administrative Elder waved his hands frantically.
“No! I just gave it to my daughter! The world's dangerous these days! It was for self-defense—”
“You? You did it?”
“It's really not me! Why would I!”
I stayed quiet for a moment, then raised my hand. The elders, full of distrust, looked at me with bloodshot eyes. They looked no different from zombies.
“Deacon Kwon. What is it?”
“If the Pastor dies, who would benefit the most?”
At those words, confused expressions flashed across their faces for a moment. As if such a thing could never happen. But the elders, already steeped in suspicion, found their own reasons and created a culprit. The white-haired old man—the Service Elder. The elder who managed believers who helped with farming or labor.
“Service Elder.”
“Why are you looking at me like that? What would I gain?”
The Service Elder spoke calmly, but it didn't work. One by one, they threw out words.
“Weren't you an elder originally? Without the Pastor, the Service Elder would become the leader.”
“Don't tell me you coveted the church…?”
The Service Elder sighed.
“At my age, would I wish for such a thing? If you suspect me that much, I'll leave. Looking at how things are going, that seems best. With the Pastor gone, there's no reason to stay.”
With those final words, the Service Elder turned around. His slumped shoulders and heavy footsteps moved away.
The Security Elder kicked the wall with a thud, then frowned deeply as if his toes hurt.
“Ugh. Seeing us already shooting at each other, there's no future. …Let's just divide the food stockpiled in the church and go our separate ways.”
“Aha! So the real thief was here! That was your goal? The stockpiled food?”
The moment the Thief Elder sneered, the Security Elder lost it. Click—he aimed his pistol. The Thief Elder didn't back down either, finger on the trigger.
As expected, the Thief Elder showed his talent as a marauder. The boldness of someone with nothing to lose. The corners of his eyes twisted viciously.
“Why? You want me to shoot you like I shot the Pastor?”
I couldn't help but admire it. How could he mix lies into his words as naturally as breathing?
That was when a trembling sob was heard.
“Stop it, just stop…. I'm scared. Why, why…”
It was the grandmother. Tears streamed down her face like a child, and her body shook violently. I quickly supported her.
“It's okay. It's nothing serious. Everything will be fine.”
I patted her while subtly shifting my gaze. The Thief Elder and Security Elder looked like they might shoot each other at any moment. I showed signs of tension, as if I was afraid of them.
The two men fell silent for a moment. Then they sighed and holstered their guns at the same time. Thick fatigue and faint fear shadowed their faces.
“What the hell is all this?”
“…Still, the Pastor must have gone to heaven. He was such a good person, so God must have taken him first.”
When the atmosphere began to shift, the Evangelist Elder shook his head.
“We can't report this to the police—we can't trust them. There's also the firearm issue. First, let's give the Pastor a proper send-off. We can't just leave him like this.”
“Yeah, that's right.”
The situation was roughly settled. I naturally handed the grandmother over to the Thief Elder and watched for an opportunity to approach the Security Elder.
“Security Elder.”
“…What.”
“Are you leaving the church?”
The Security Elder frowned deeply.
“Why do you ask?”
“It doesn't seem like the church can continue without the Pastor. If it's alright with you, would you come with me to the supply warehouse?”
When I spoke to him secretly, the Security Elder looked around. The others were busy taking care of the Pastor's body. He gave a small nod.
“Let's go.”
We naturally headed to the supply warehouse. The door burst open, revealing the resources piled high inside. Nearby were disinfectants, masks, and ramen. Further in were rice, seaweed, hardtack, and canned goods. There were also sacks of salt and sugar.
“When did all this…”
The Security Elder widened his eyes and stepped inside. He'd turned his back to me. I silently picked up a hammer.
Did he sense something? The Security Elder turned around, but it was far too late.
“Deacon Kwon, what are you—”
The hammer enlarged in his widely opened pupils. I brought it down without mercy. A dull impact. With a short groan of “Ugh,” the Security Elder staggered. His hand instinctively went for his pistol. I swung the hammer again. That was the end.
He collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.
I let out a belated gasp of horror.
“Oh my god! Security Elder! Stealing? And threatening me with a gun! Wait, isn't there a lethal round in his pocket too?”
My hands moved quickly. I slipped the lethal round I'd taken from the Pastor's gun into the Security Elder's pants pocket. I struggled to hold back the laughter that threatened to escape.
The Service Elder left of his own accord. The Security Elder died framed. The Thief Elder is on my side. The Administrative Elder, Evangelist Elder, and grandmother? If I recruit just one of the three, I have the majority. Or I can prevent the three from uniting.
The scale would shrink, but the community would still be useful.