Chapter 1
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 1
Chapter Title: Slave Wanted
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Whirr-.
The low hum of the air purifier filled the room.
I opened my eyes.
The recessed LED lights on the ceiling cast a soft glow over the room.
Humidity at 45%, temperature at 23 degrees.
The air was so fresh it felt crisp going into my nostrils.
I grabbed my smartphone from the nightstand. Four bars of signal. Solid connection.
The world went to hell two months ago, but somehow the telecoms were still running. Did zombies leave cell towers alone? Or were there engineers out there surviving on instant noodles, guarding server rooms?
Whatever. Not my problem.
"Yawn."
I stretched and got out of bed.
The king-size latex mattress jiggled as it pushed me off.
The floor felt warm under my feet. The boiler was running low.
150 pyeong.
This ridiculously spacious place was my kingdom, all for one guy.
After my parents passed, I'd dumped all their inheritance into shitcoins and planned to off myself.
But who knew those shitcoins would moon past Mars into deep space?
I blew hundreds of billions turning it into this fortress. Good thing I'd listened to those doomsday YouTubers. Back then, everyone called me crazy. Now? I was the prophet.
I headed to the kitchen.
The induction cooktop on the island counter gleamed, not a speck of dust.
I opened the fridge.
A blast of cold air hit me.
Today's menu was decided last night before bed.
I filled a pot with water.
Unscrewed a bottled water cap and poured it in generously. Out there, people were dying from contaminated rainwater, but I had clean water to spare.
While the water boiled, I grabbed a pack of spicy ramen from the pantry.
And the star ingredient.
The king of cans: ham.
I peeled off the plastic lid and hooked my finger under the aluminum tab.
Pulled hard.
Schlup, click.
The can opened smoothly, revealing pink meat glistening inside.
Oil dripping seductively.
I sliced it into thick pieces on the cutting board. The knife sank in with a heavy, soft give.
A dab of oil in the frying pan, then the ham went on.
Sizzle-.
The sound was insane.
A nutty aroma took over the kitchen in seconds.
Three golden-brown slices.
Cracked an egg into the bubbling ramen and topped it with the ham.
Why put ham on ramen? Easier cleanup, less greasy dishes.
Finally, a slice of cheddar.
The cheese melted into the broth, coating the noodles.
Visuals hit like a truck.
This wasn't just ramen. It was salvation, civilization, the taste of capitalism.
Side of perfectly fermented cabbage kimchi. Set and ready.
Of course, ritual time first.
Click. Click.
Snapped shots from every angle. Close-up of melting cheese, full shot with kimchi and ham.
Now, dig in.
Slurp.
"Ahhhh..."
My brows furrowed in bliss.
Salty ham, nutty cheese, spicy broth harmony.
Bursting yolk popping in my mouth.
Ham juices exploded with every chew, wrapping around my tongue.
"This is sex."
Couldn't stop shoveling it in.
After slurping all the noodles, I dumped instant rice into the leftover broth and mixed.
Scraped the pot clean, then patted my belly.
Full and toasty.
This was paradise.
I sank into the sofa and fired up my phone.
Bookmarked survivor community: Apocalypse Gallery.
Post refresh rate had slowed, but survival reports and whines still popped up.
Title: Hey, lunch menu recs lol (photos attached)
Zombies outside being noisy, woke me up lol
Lost my appetite, skimped on breakfast.
Fried some ham on ramen and topped with cheese. Kinda heavy, but kimchi balances it. Decent.
What're you guys eating?
Oh, starving with nothing? Lol fair.
But starving pathetically forever—wouldn't dying be easier? No cap.
(Ramen photos attached)
Holy shit, fucking insane...
Photoshop right? Power's out everywhere, barely charging my phone—where's the electricity for boiling ramen? Gas lines dead too.
Bro please just one bite. Starved 3 days straight. Tell me location, I'll wipe your ass.
Fake af. Pulling old pics for attention, loser.
Look at that ham glaze... Dude, one slice and I'd die happy.
This guy's the steak poster from before right? Where you at? Gov official?
Cooking smoke outside draws zombies by smell. Careful idiot lol (not jealous ㅗㅗ)
"Kekeke."
Laughter bubbled up.
Reactions were gold.
Fake? Photoshop? Hilarious.
This was why I posted.
Deniers, beggars, ragers.
The hell beyond the screen made my comfort shine brighter.
No replies. That's the Biting Lord way.
Leisurely scrolled other posts.
'Leg bit getting water... fuck'
'Gangnam Station now.jpg (gore warning)'
'Wanna suicide, LFG pharmacy raid party'
All depressing.
Makes sense. World ended.
But not my world.
Generator room: silencer-fitted genny churning power quietly. Water system filtering groundwater to potable.
Pantry: enough food and cans for 1,000 years solo.
Plus basement level 2 smart farm growing lettuce, tomatoes, veggies.
Vitamins? Covered.
Weapons?
Recalled the gun safe lineup.
Assault rifle, semi-auto shotgun, auto pistol... holosights, tac lights, suppressors. Fully tricked out. Spent big.
Guns in Korea? Money talks. Though I blew more than planned... now cash can't buy guns anyway.
Entrance: quadruple steel doors. Tank-proof. Needs biometrics, passcode, manual lever from outside.
Zombies? They'd sniff, slip on the bunker ramp, crack skulls.
Perfect.
Everything perfect.
"......"
Sudden silence hit.
Full belly sparked stray thoughts.
Too quiet.
Just the air purifier humming.
Suddenly, my side felt cold.
Warm back, full stomach—what next?
Yeah. Horniness.
My dick had nothing to do lately. Paper play only lasts a day or two.
This huge bunker, just me. Hit hard.
Spare rooms galore.
Eight guest rooms, luxury linens.
And the prison for emergencies. Empty.
Soundproof, unbreakable from outside, barred cell.
Built for unruly guests. Unused.
"Sigh..."
Need a woman.
Warm, soft, someone to talk to.
Or not talk much.
Just pretty, by my side, taking my desires.
Outside? Women everywhere, zombie chow, raider meat, starving.
I could save them.
Food rotting, safety overflowing.
Trade. Fair exchange.
Decision made, hands on keyboard.
No hesitation. Anonymous. World gone mad.
Morality? Luxury now.
Title: Straight up: Looking for a woman to be my slave (conditions apply)
No bullshit.
Saw the photos? I'm in a super safe spot with food overflowing.
Can let you chill and eat forever.
Daily showers. Unlimited power. Meat sides possible.
In return, live as my slave.
Do what I say, wear what I say.
Night service goes without saying.
[Conditions]
• Age 20-26.
• Hot body. C-cup+ preferred.
• Virgin preferred, but non-virgins ok if disease-free. (Virgins get big bonus)
• Decent face. No orcs.
• Obedient. Rebel and you're out. Kicked out = zombie bait in 1 min, you know.
Interested girls, comment proof.
Pic holding paper with nickname, show body. Face half-hidden ok, full body required. Lingerie welcome.
Three sizes, age, virgin status.
No trolls or blocked.
Finger tingled hitting enter.
They'll call me psycho.
But in this mess, it's a lifeline.
Smart girls know full slave beats starvation or rape-death.
Opened another tab, watched saved vids while waiting.
10 min, 20 min.
Red notification pinged.
Refresh.
You fucking human?
Dark concept lol. If real take me. Good at cleaning laundry. Guy 24 army vet.
Drop address, coming to bash your head.
Oppa I'm 28 but babyface. Good cook. Please... Can't pic, shitty phone.
(Photo) This pass? 22yo B-cup. Not virgin. But tight guaranteed.
[Photo: Tight leggings from behind. Ass line art. Face masked, eyes pretty.]
Typical dude scum ㅉㅉ Still chasing pussy in this?
Sexsexpussy
Half curses, half dudes.
Ignored the crap. Scrolled for real ones.
Huh?
Standouts appeared.
(Photo) 21yo / 163cm 48kg / 70C / Virgin yes... I'll do anything you say. Save me...
[Photo: Ripped jeans, baggy tee, but heavy cleavage peeking past paper-held nickname. Thighs toned.]
(Photo) 23yo, C-cup, not virgin but only 1 experience. Ex-nursing aide. Can treat wounds. Please save me.
[Photo: Tight leggings backshot. Ass perfection. Masked face, pretty eyes.]
(Photo) 20yo. Virgin. Can prove. Plump. Feed me and I'll do anything.
[Photo: Bra and panties only. Pale skin. Key areas covered by nickname paper.]
Better haul than expected.
These girls adapted to the madness, survival instincts sharp.
Tough mentally, obey well.
Zoomed each photo, vetted.
Stolen? Proportions?
Rough count: top 3 plus 7 more, 10 potentials.
Not all make it.
Zombie chow en route, raider grabs, lost and starved.
One or two tops? Perfect. Survival game.
Trials make them submit on arrival.
DM'd the passers.
[To: soso, Dildojalneutm, Tokkigyongdu, ...]
[Passed.
Location: XX City XX District XX Road 123, XX Mountain entrance underground bunker. (Coords attached)]
Zombies thick en route, dodge smart.
Intercom at door, say nickname.
First come first served. Late = full, door stays shut.
Max 2. My call. Might take more.
Wanna live? Move now.]
Hit send.
Delivered.
Recipients probably cheering or packing.
Eight guest rooms, why max 2? Creates urgency, they rush.
Who arrives first?
Messy arrival? Fun washing them up.
Till then, dessert.
Grabbed canned peaches from pantry.
Sweet scent ramped up the excitement.
Appetite on point today.