Chapter 4
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 4
Chapter Title: Huh?
-----------------------------------------------------------------
After that, I closed the curtains over the window and lay down on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.
Honestly, I was freaked out.
Or was I, really?
The reason I phrased it as a question was that at some point, the fear and tension that had gripped my body had vanished unnaturally. I couldn't properly judge if I'd truly been scared.
I had a pretty good idea of the reason.
The 'Spirit' stat, abnormally high compared to all the others.
My guess was that it governed mental endurance—my mentality, basically. Thanks to that sky-high number, I'd avoided puking from terror or falling into a panic.
Even so, the reason I was still lying here like this was because I was scared.
Yeah, emotionally, I wasn't afraid.
But my body? My head? My reason?
The moment I imagined facing that zombie monster despite my calm, the oncoming disgust and revulsion dragged me down like this.
It was an escapist mindset: don't approach it in the first place because I hated it.
'If I could have my way, I'd just go back to sleep right now...'
But no, that wouldn't work.
Fortunately—or unfortunately—with my Spirit stat, I wouldn't freak out or panic like a normal person even if I saw corpses or zombies again. So I had to be grateful for that and get moving.
Especially for survival.
"Haa..."
Letting out a deep sigh, I got out of bed and started unpacking and organizing the supplies I'd sweat bullets hauling in earlier.
Since I'd tossed them in haphazardly in my rush, now was the time to sort them.
"Hang the weapons on the display rack to avoid any accidents..."
Food went in a cool, dark spot without sunlight.
The fridge was still running, so I stashed instant rice, sausages, ham, and such in there.
I cooked occasionally, so there were some veggies and eggs left, and most importantly, the kimchi fridge was packed full.
'Thank goodness I made kimchi two months ago.'
Not many single-person households did kimchi-making these days, but what could you do?
I just liked eating it.
'Even considering nutritional balance, this should hold me for about a month easily, right?'
After sorting the food by expiration dates and nutritional value, I looked at the stacked provisions and grinned to myself.
That was the minimum; if I rationed carefully, I could stretch it two months or more.
I usually bought a year's worth of rice, and with power holding out for at least a month, I might last even longer if I managed well.
It felt incredibly secure, somehow.
Once the organizing was mostly done, the time had finally come where I could zone out for real.
But instead of flopping around like dead weight, I sat quietly with a piece of paper and pen, tapping the desk with the pen tip.
'The most important thing is getting to Mastco...'
Sure, there were the massive stockpiles in the warehouse tempting me, but the real priority was preparing for the future.
As a warehouse-style megamart, it had a huge, open space perfect for all sorts of uses. And above all, the terrain around Mastco kept sticking in my mind.
Zombie apocalypse.
In other words, a situation where I'd have to deal with zombie monsters and the apocalyptic disaster at the same time.
Right now, in these early stages, raiding nearby houses would solve immediate food issues.
But food spoils eventually.
Sooner or later, edible supplies would run out, and I'd hit a limit.
That's why my eyes turned to the vast plains and farmlands near Mastco.
If I could farm, food would be no problem.
I had countless specialized books on farming saved on my tablet, which only made Mastco that much more appealing.
I jotted down "Farming" on the paper and marked it with a star.
'No matter how I think about it, the conditions are too perfect.'
Broad flatlands, already-cleared fields, a warehouse megamart perfect for holding out defensively.
I had to claim this place.
"The problem is how to claim it..."
Just barge in and declare myself boss?
No way.
I'd never held a high position, much less kept one, and I had no desire to.
If there was someone to manage it for me, maybe, but keeping a group together with my brain? Impossible.
It was about 3 p.m. now. Doomsday had kicked off at 11:50 a.m., so roughly three hours since the zombies appeared.
Three hours was a long time—plenty for humans to band together, form groups, and pick leaders.
'With lives on the line, even a crazy boss would get followed for now.'
No internal threats to cause collapse yet.
If a survivor group formed at Mastco, they'd last quite a while.
In that process, they'd end up with a solid leader.
To worm my way in and become the real power behind the throne, I'd need to leave a strong impression.
From what I'd seen out front, the cops and military weren't handling this—no way it'd end soon.
So a strong impression would go to whoever could protect them from zombies.
The conclusion?
"Get strong... and dominate."
That was my decision.
I stared for a moment at the paper scrawled with 'Farming ➡️ Occupy ➡️ Grow ➡️ Dominate', then stood up.
'Alright, then for the next few days, I'll hunt zombies around here.'
It was time to let the survivors thin themselves out, build up their desperation... and buy time for my own growth.
I summoned the system again, pulling up my stats.
This stat system worked on a simple game-like structure.
Invest unallocated points into stats to boost abilities.
Super straightforward.
And the points you absolutely needed to raise those stats? You got them by killing zombies.
That was what the tutorial had told me—but honestly, any guy who's played games would've figured it out instantly. Trusting my instincts, I dumped the points into my stats right away.
No point in hoarding them anyway.
I put 5 into Strength, 3 into Agility, and 2 into Stamina.
Pumping just one stat like in a game would be suicide in reality.
Since killing zombies and surviving was the goal, I invested in Stamina too.
The changes hit immediately.
Vitality surged through my sluggish body, the world felt more vivid and sensitive, and my limbs lightened up.
A sense of omnipotence... nah, bullshit.
With the vitality came smoother thinking.
'Alright, time to head outside?'
Staying cooped up like this would get me nowhere. Time to move.
Machete in my right hand, all gear unpacked into an empty backpack on my back, I stood at the front door.
In zombie apocalypse stories, folks wrap tape around limbs for makeshift armor, but that looks tacky as hell.
Besides, I had a skill that made it unnecessary.
Implements non-existence.
Enter stealth state for a limited time.
This Nameless skill.
'Nameless' lived up to its name, but weirdly, it granted stealth effects.
Whatever—the link between skill name and effect wasn't important right now.
With this stealth skill, I planned to cheese zombie hunts without taking hits.
Luckily, when I'd peeked out the window earlier, there was exactly one zombie standing blankly at our building's entrance.
Perfect conditions to test the skill and see what I could do.
"Alright... let's go!"
Muttering it like a vow, I steeled myself and opened the door.
Kiiiek—
True to the old building, the front door let out a rusty groan.
I worried the noise might draw the zombie, but hey, I had stealth.
Gathering my courage, I stepped out further.
This building was small— one household per floor, doors right at the stairs.
Four stories total, topped with a triangular roof, no rooftop access.
Plan: check upstairs first, work my way down floor by floor, clear them out, then deal with the zombie outside.
Can't push forward without securing the rear, right?
Had to tidy up my base— this building— starting from inside.
The dim hallway and stairs greeted me coldly.
No zombie break-ins yet? The corridor was spotless, matching my memory perfectly.
In stark contrast to the bloodstains everywhere outside.
"Hoo..."
'Up we go.'
I ascended to the fourth floor slowly.
Machete gripped tight for an instant swing if needed, I advanced carefully, step by step.
Finally, the fourth floor.
Clean and quiet as always.
'The person who lived on the fourth floor...'
I'd long given up on making friends, so no name came to mind. But I remembered she was a female office worker at some internet ad company.
That was vague too, so not entirely accurate...
'Her chest, though? Crystal clear.'
Brown bob haircut, rare light-brown eyes that looked golden in the light.
A beauty with those unique eyes.
But what stuck most? Her breasts, hands down.
'Easily clears three sizes, no doubt.'
I'm a guy, after all—her stunning yet lewd figure was burned into my memory.
Even her tight black business suit couldn't hide them, and every time she passed, that signature bust jiggle snagged my gaze.
I wasn't the only one; countless guys must've fallen to the demonic allure of those tits.
Her hips were nicely proportioned and plump too.
Height around mid-150s cm, petite and the epitome of a bagel girl— I'd secretly thought that.
A woman whose massive chest radiated this weird maternal vibe, making you want to bury yourself in that plushness at least once.
My thoughts reached that point, and I shook my head, snapping back to reality.
What good were fantasies now?
Focus on what I had to do.
It was a weekday afternoon anyway— high chance she'd left for work, house empty. Fantasies or hopes? Pointless.
As I moved to check—
The fourth-floor door flew open with a bang, and a thin arm thrust a wooden stick straight at me.
"Haaaah!!! Die!!!"
"?!?!"
Three hours and twenty minutes into the apocalypse world.
And I got attacked by a human before any zombie.
Though if it was that busty beauty... might not be so bad.