Chapter 67
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 67
Chapter Title: From Now On, We Occupy This Place
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Humans are truly cruel.
Normally, they speak of mercy and peace with their mouths, wishing for goodness.
But what happens when their own lives are truly in danger?
Or if they merely suffer a loss from some tiny fragment of themselves?
The human who once yearned for goodness turns ruthless and merciless, becoming endlessly cruel.
They turn a blind eye to the weak's anguish.
They accept the strong's conveniences.
They think only of their own safety.
The human who sought mercy and peace now demands sacrifice from others and tramples their rights.
'How amusing.'
What of those who greet others' screams with a smile?
No one remained to condemn them.
Only sympathizers were left.
'Society's collapsed, so instead of forcing it on plants and animals, they're doing it to fellow humans now. Of course.'
They could no longer claim proudly that they'd survived without anyone's sacrifice.
A world had arrived where survival meant blood on your hands and trampling corpses.
Murder became commonplace. Plunder, justified.
And I would reign above them all.
Three corpses. Six people drenched in blood.
Sensing the thick stench of blood, I approached them—all but one sweating profusely, their breaths ragged with excitement.
Clean
At the same time—like praising their feats—I purified all the impurities built up over fifteen days of blood and grime.
Their filthy forms turned clean and presentable in an instant.
"Ah?! I-It's really clean...!"
"Th-Thank you, Representative..."
"Urgh... Th-Thank... you..."
"...Thank you."
"I killed a person..."
Four people offering thanks while gauging my mood.
One staring down at their blood-free hands, guilt-ridden.
"Heehee... Hahaha."
...And one woman who wasn't sweating at all, flushed with delight.
Among them, the gloomy girl's transformation was the most striking.
Timid to her core at first sight, yet her eyes lit up the moment she stabbed.
As if human blood were her life's purpose—she'd plunged that kitchen knife in the most times, most aggressively.
Even I, who'd killed plenty, didn't enjoy it.
Clap clap
"They're definitely all dead. Well done. Especially you. What's your name?"
I pointed a finger, and the gloomy girl flinched, snapping out of her trance, shrinking back into timidity.
She replied in a voice tinier than an ant's.
"L-Lee Jiyeong..."
Lee Jiyeong, huh.
Suits her.
I just nodded, saying nothing more.
Her name was all I'd wanted.
A question mark practically floated over Jiyeong's head at my demeanor, but she soon shriveled up again, as if it didn't matter.
After that, I had Junsang clear the bodies and Clean up the mess, then patrolled the entire safe zone, spamming Clean everywhere.
Any space my hand touched turned spotless.
The rotten stench from the people and safe zone finally vanished.
Those who'd witnessed my miracle up close stopped seeing me solely as a terror.
"Representative..."
A woman murmuring softly.
The one who'd escaped death by a single person yesterday.
I smirked at her mutter after Cleaning her body.
Her face drained pale, like she'd been stabbed.
"Ah!! Th-That...!"
"Why? Sounds nice. Call me that from now on."
"Y-Yes!!"
And from there, more and more began calling me Representative.
While wandering, I also learned the system Junsang had built for this group.
The safe zone's people fell into three groups total.
First.
Obviously, Junsang's group—the leaders.
Junsang, Minjun, Seokhwan, Gangseok, and other sturdy men: four in all, with four subordinates under them.
Handled overall management and conflict resolution.
Absorbed opinions, minimized complaints.
Second.
The remaining men and their wives: the general group.
About half the total.
Controlled by Junsang's group, oppressed by me, they followed orders.
Third.
The women I'd saved.
All at least young as a baseline—the general group's men eyed them, but Junsang's group protected them.
When I'd given Junsang a woman as reward, he'd grasped that females were basically my property.
"Didn't say a word, but you read my intent."
"Haha. You put me in charge, Representative. Had to do it right."
"You do good work."
I praised with a satisfied smile; Junsang beamed, unable to hide it.
Bowing endlessly, like a corporate climber riding the right coattails.
'Well, this kind of thing's necessary too.'
Flattery's ugly from an outsider's view, but as the recipient? Never felt bad.
If anything, I'd miss it if it vanished.
Couldn't view Junsang poorly.
Everything he did pleased me.
Anyway, briefed on the groups and situation, I returned to the center and drew all eyes.
"First, our direction going forward. We'll fully occupy this Mastco. Build the bare minimum infrastructure for living."
"Occupy here...?"
"How, with all those zombies we saw running...?"
Murmurs rippled at my words.
To them, "occupy" sounded absurd.
Mastco was massive; the zombies inside, beyond imagination.
But it had to be done.
"I hear 'how.' Simple: kill them all. Zombies don't vanish if ignored."
I pulled a longsword from my inventory, planting it in the floor, and continued.
"So I'll form an extermination squad. Combat unit to kill zombies, expand our range. I'll pick members, naturally. Refuse if you want—but pay the price."
Corresponding price.
Faces lit briefly at "refuse," then darkened.
"Not asking you to die for nothing, of course. Don't want my slaves dropping pointlessly. Men in the squad? Priority on sex slaves based on feats. Means owning one of my women, like Junsang."
Interest sparked, growing.
Sex slaves—modern men got hard just hearing it.
For males with breeding instincts maxed under constant death threats? All focus there.
Women shot sharp glares, but dropped their eyes when I looked.
"But if a few hog the women, what's left for the rest? So these."
I yanked three from the women's group: oldest, least attractive.
"Eh...? R-Representative...?"
"?"
Woman number 14 was among them, naturally.
Her face twisted in confusion as I dragged her forward.
Betrayal, more like?
Maybe figured since I'd killed her threats, I was her savior.
Or thought she was special.
Wishful thinking.
I shoved the three forward.
"These three: public cumdumps. Numbers-wise, plenty to go around. Married guys? Use freely—no side-eye. Honestly, young girls beat old wives for fun."
"Public... cumdumps...?"
"Why? Hate it? What's your value besides that pussy and youth? Lose it, worth keeping alive?"
"Hng...!!"
"Ahh..."
"B-But...!"
"But my ass. Hate it? Speak up. Kill you now."
My merciless jab turned them tearful instantly.
Didn't want death, so they meekly accepted.
Already broken, they crumbled at my verdict.
Eyes welled, but I ignored.
From behind, I grabbed their breasts showily.
Squeeze—
"Hng?!?"
"Ah...!"
'Hmm... Size, feel—average. Nothing like my girls, who melt from a touch alone.'
Flesh yielding between fingers.
Over fresh clothes, just an average handful—no thrill.
Regretted the wasted grope.
"Married women? Relax. You're housekeepers—lucky. Ingredients come? Cook. Clothes tear? Mend. Keep the whole safe zone clean."
"Phew~."
"R-Right...! We have owners..."
"But honey, why the staring...?"
They focused, the old wives—but every man's gaze locked on the tits in my grip.
Husbands were all middle-aged.
Wives too.
Naturally, husbands eyed young, hot bodies over their saggy, ugly spouses.
That couple dynamic wouldn't last long.
I was certain: old women, discarded ruthlessly.