The Key to Their Prison
The keys to the villa, collected after killing its residents, rested in my hand. I examined the stickers on each one before unlocking the units. People swarmed onto the narrow staircase, and my low voice explaining the layout echoed quietly through the space.
“The first floor and basement are obviously unusable. This unit has a broken window, so it's out too.”
“We can only use five units? That's pretty tight... What about the rooftop? Looks like four people could camp up there.”
The hiking club president, dressed in black outdoor gear, thudded his heavy pack onto the stairs and craned his neck upward. With so many hikers in the group, space was clearly an issue. They might be preparing escape routes—rooftop to rooftop jumps were possible. Or maybe they just wanted direct control over the water tank.
A headache bloomed behind my eyes. I planned to lock them in and starve them, but there are too many damn exits. They could use the rooftop, or slip down the gas pipes like Park Yanggun had once done. Simply barricading the front door wouldn't be enough.
I nodded indifferently. “Do whatever you want. The rooftop door is unlocked.”
“Good, good. I need to check how much water's left in the tank.”
I watched calmly as the club president smiled in relief. Scenarios raced through my mind. Arson? Fire could spread too easily. Zombie wave? These people can't even open the front door. Nothing solid came to mind. When that happened, the first idea was usually best: lock them in and starve them. Smash the water tank and give them three waterless days.
When I stepped outside, Park Yanggun was talking with his family. They leaned against the car or perched on the hood, but an awkward gap separated them—like old acquaintances rather than blood. Park Yanggun looked at his daughter and forced a gentle tone.
“You've grown so much. Last time I saw you, you were about this tall.”
“I must take after Mom.”
“Better than taking after me.”
The conversation died. Neither his daughter nor his ex-wife spoke. Too many things to say, or nothing left to say—one of the two. In the end, Park Yanggun scanned them and kept up the meaningless small talk.
“Good thing you didn't turn into zombies. And you're not dead.”
“Being alive is enough... So how have you survived? I heard you left the church. Did they catch you running another scam and kick you out?”
His ex-wife spoke flatly. Park Yanggun drummed his fingers on the car, nearly exploding, then let out a long sigh.
“Communal living just didn't suit me.”
He was right. This was the man who'd helped me kill the Pastor. The same man who'd poisoned the Hope Community's atmosphere with suspicion and distrust. A marauder crew fit him far better than any commune.
I observed the tense family for a moment, then cleared my throat and approached.
“Mister Park Yanggun. Got a minute?”
It was code for helping me seal their escape routes and finish the job. Their arrival wasn't his fault, but he had caused it. He needed to step up and clean up his own mess.
Park Yanggun glanced at his family, then slowly turned. “Rest up. I've got something to handle.”
We returned to my house in the farm villa. I dropped into a chair and cut straight to the point.
“I'm locking those people in to starve them. Can you make sure they can't escape? Especially down the gas pipes.”
“...Not sure. Cutting the pipes would be loud as hell.”
Park Yanggun had looked troubled at first, but now he muttered with clear interest. From a thief's perspective, blocking escape routes seemed to amuse him. It was like a hacker pointing out security flaws.
“Grease or candle wax on the gas pipes should do it. Wax might even work—gas pipes have some heat resistance.”
As expected, Park Yanggun didn't disappoint. This would work. I shook the bundle of keys, letting them jingle. The one for the rooftop door was in my possession. Only one task remained: in the dead of night, seal the doors, slick the gas pipes, quietly eliminate anyone on the rooftop, and wait.
I glanced at him. “Get your family out tonight. Tell them you're sleeping together as a family—that should let your wife and daughter slip away naturally. Once everyone's asleep, coat the gas pipes with wax.”
“Sleeping together as a family is the hard part, but fine. I got it.”
Park Yanggun muttered and headed back to his family. I took several deep breaths, fingers tracing the hammer's handle.
Deep night. I stood on the villa rooftop where the hikers had settled, staring at the blood soaking my gloves. Torn tents and four corpses lay scattered around me—the night watch. They'd pitched tents to sleep and taken turns monitoring the area. I smashed one man's skull while pretending to greet him warmly. The other three had their throats slit in their sleep. Water from the deliberately shattered tank mixed with the spreading blood.
Park Yanggun suddenly hauled himself over the railing, arms shaking as he struggled across. He pointed at the gas burner in front of me—a signal that no more wax-melting was needed. He whispered.
“Coated all the window-side pipes. They were exhausted, so everyone was out cold.”
“They must have trusted the night watch completely.”
Lucky break. We rarely caught this kind of fortune.
The rooftop door opened. Sa Gihyeok and Jeon Dohyeong staggered in, bodies heavy from exertion. Their arms hung limp, steps unsteady.
“Moving everything quietly took more strength than I expected.”
“I really can't handle physical labor.”
They'd clearly struggled hauling chairs, boxes, and folding desks. I clapped their shoulders, then pulled out the rooftop key.
“Let's go.”
We locked the door and descended. The marauders followed me in silence, breathing carefully. In the darkness, the barricaded entrance area came into view—furniture and junk packed tight so the door couldn't open. This place was no longer a home. It was a prison. The only escape now was jumping from the windows.
At the prison villa's entrance, I spoke casually. It was meant for Park Yanggun.
“Make sure no one opens this.”
“Of course.”
“And take turns on watch, just in case. We need surveillance... I still have stamina, so I'll handle it for now.”
I had killed the four men easily. After that, I'd been the one melting and delivering the wax. It made sense for the person with energy left to stand guard. The others, worn out, waved vaguely and headed home, footsteps quick as if they couldn't wait to sleep. Their figures faded into the darkness.
I climbed to the fourth floor and sat on the stairs.
“I hope it ends here.”
My quiet murmur echoed through the empty space. I wasn't without worries. I'd left them their phones. They could contact outsiders. Mercenaries tied to the fire station might come. The Delivery Vigilantes could show up. From the second floor, they might risk jumping despite injury.
Tap, tap, tap. I drummed the stairs, lost in thought.
How much time passed? The moon set. The sun rose. Pale dawn light filtered through the narrow stairwell window. Sounds of movement began beyond the sealed entrance door. Living in the mountains must have given them the habit of rising with the sun.
I stood slowly and moved to the rattling door. Confused voices drifted through.
“Is the door broken? It won't open.”
“Hey, there's no water either!”
They hadn't grasped the situation yet. They didn't suspect someone had trapped them—they just thought something was wrong.
I stayed silent, listening to their voices. How long until they realized? What would they try?
While the rooftop watch died, I'd unlocked one of their phones and spied on the group chat. They'd woken around the same time—the chat was lively.
I tapped the phone idly. Maybe I hadn't copied their tone well enough. I moved closer to the entrance where the club president's voice came from and raised my own.
“This is the night watch.”
“...”
“Can't hear me? This is the night watch. Everyone, you're locked in. We smashed the water tank too. If you want to live, throw all your weapons and supplies out the windows.”
Rough footsteps approached. From the cold side of the door, a voice thick with suppressed rage answered.
“What's the reason for this? We were talking just fine.”
“Then why did you uneasily settle into someone else's territory? Hand over the weapons and resources and I'll open it. Think carefully. Three days without water? That's plenty of time.”
Bang. A fist slammed against the door. I smirked. Time was on my side. Let them waste it discussing and worrying over the fake threat. Even if they didn't fall for it, simply stalling would leave them dried out and dead.
“Don't bother trying to escape with ropes or strings. Someone's on the rooftop ready to drop a desk on you.”
“Do I look stupid? Just wait. I'm calling people.”
As expected—requesting rescue. But it was pointless. I'd stayed up all night preparing to persuade anyone who showed up.
I climbed back to the rooftop.