Central Library (3)
The clatter of a disposable spoon scraping at a can of tuna echoed through the third floor of Incheon Central Library.
"Ugh, ugh... I think this kimbap's gone bad. Gaeul-noona, don't we have anything else?"
"Kim Cheolsu, I told you to eat the perishables first. No complaints—eat it and be grateful."
How the hell has that bastard survived until now?
A bus-driver type who dumped all his luck into survival.
As I watched Kim Cheolsu's face scrunch up in misery, I passed the half-finished can of tuna over to Yoon Ayoung.
She'd been dutifully scraping the last of her own can, and now she stared at the one I'd handed her with wide, startled eyes.
It was a wordless question: Is this... for me?
I nodded with a bright smile, and her face flushed crimson as she carefully drew the can toward herself.
"Th-thank you..."
Her whispered thanks finished, she buried her face right back in the tuna.
What is she, starving for a week straight?
Oh. Right. She actually was.
A little past five o'clock, Kang San rose with a clap of his hands and spoke.
"Alright, let's wrap up for today. Great work, everyone. Get some good sleep, and let's give it our best again tomorrow."
Chairs scraped back and the group began to disperse. Librarian Kim Eunbyeol gathered up the tuna cans and other trash, while Seo Taesan hauled a dumbbell out from the corner and started his workout.
Amid the slowly breaking-up crowd, Kang San waved me over.
As I walked toward him, I felt someone lightly catch the hem of my shirt.
Just as she'd done with Kang San before, Yoon Ayoung was now trailing after me, clutching my sleeve.
Is she following me over a single can of food?
She really was nothing but a puppy.
"Ah... good evening, Ayoung-ssi. I asked you two here because I need to go over a few things with the night watch rotation."
"But first, let me say thank you. I was just being honest about what I thought—I hope I didn't upset you?"
"Th-thank you, Kang San-ssi."
At our gratitude, Kang San waved it off with a rueful hand.
"Aw, come on. I should be thanking you for speaking up. Honestly, I believe Ayoung-ssi is at the very least not a zombie."
Look at that wholesome smile.
This group will never survive long-term. Not with a total sucker like that as its leader.
"Right, so. You two will take the first watch tonight. Ayoung-ssi, do you happen to know what 'first watch' means?"
"...D-doesn't it just mean the first one?"
"Exactly. That's all you need to know. Anyway, in a little while it'll be too dark to see anything, so use a flashlight then. They're over there."
Where his finger pointed, a row of flashlights stood neatly arranged on a bookshelf—along with a mountain of portable chargers, all tethered to smartphones.
"Haha, impressive, right? Gaeul set all of that up. Thorough, isn't she? She also stockpiled water on the fourth floor in case the water and power get cut off. You can wash up a bit up there too."
I turned to look at Seong Gaeul, who was watching us from against the wall, arms crossed, and my eyes widened.
So that's why the group held together despite a pushover like him at the helm. They had a competent strategist.
Taken one by one, those precautions were things anyone should have prepared if they thought it through carefully. But it had been barely a week since the outbreak—not only had she calmed the panic scrambling everyone's brains, she was already planning for the future.
You're the designated administrator of my cult.
Seong Gaeul, blissfully unaware that her fate had just been decided, kept scanning us with those cold eyes.
Not that staring would make anything pop out.
Or... could it be she'd actually sensed my dark schemes through sheer intuition?
A genuinely fascinating woman.
Just then, Lee Gyeongmin came hobbling over with a container in his arms, groaning under the weight.
"Hyung, I brought it."
"Ah, thanks. Go get some rest."
"Hehe, yes sir."
Just as Lee Gyeongmin seemed in a hurry to slip away, Seo Taesan called him back.
"Gyeongmin."
"...Y-yes, sir!"
"Where do you think you're going? You're working out with hyung."
"Hahaha, well, the legs I ground into the floor earlier are still a little..."
"You slippery snake—always wriggling out of it at exactly this moment. ...Fine, go."
"Th-thank you for your hard work, sir!"
Watching Lee Gyeongmin vanish like the wind, Kang San pulled a hiking pole out of the container.
"Ah—this is our emergency weapon, for if something truly goes wrong. We used to have far better gear, but..."
Kang San stroked the hiking pole with a bitter look in his eyes.
"Well... we don't have many proper weapons right now."
He wasn't wrong. The raid team that had gone out 'farming' had been armed with bizarre book-armor and baseball bats. That was practically the same as giving up on being armed at all.
From Kang San's tone, it was clear there had once been effective weapons that were now simply gone.
The people who split off from the group—the ones who went to the shelter—took the weapons with them.
I could see it without watching. But that didn't quite add up, unless they'd snuck away in the night.
In this world, who on earth would hand their weapons over to someone else?
"Hoo—hah—hoo—"
In the distance, Seo Taesan's hulking muscles glistened, dripping with sweat.
With a beast like that glued to Kang San's side around the clock, how could anyone have walked off with the weapons?
Fuck. What sin did the person sleeping next to that bastard commit?
I prayed with all my heart that I wouldn't be the one drifting off wrapped in the exercise freak's sweat stench. The smell of another man's sweat—God, I would rather die.
Receiving the hiking pole and a smartphone for emergencies, I followed Kang San's guidance down to the first floor. On the stairwell railing, a half-melted candlestick swayed with its flame.
Down in the lobby stood a table and two chairs, and in the center, a drum barrel burning books.
"Books are overflowing anyway, so you don't have to worry about the dark at night."
Even without electricity, they were making a decent, methodical effort to keep their line of sight clear.
"The clock's over there, so keep a close eye on the time. Hmm... I'll head up now, so hand the shift over to the next person in two hours. If I remember right, that's Taesan, but he works out for a while so he's probably not asleep yet. Alright then—good night."
For once glad to be off duty, Kang San took the stairs two at a time, and I sank into one of the prepared chairs. A little later came the sound of Yoon Ayoung settling into the other.
Tak— tak—
Only the crackle and pop of the burning barrel animated the silent space.
I fiddled idly with the hiking pole and waited for Yoon Ayoung to speak.
"...Th-thank you... for helping me."
"Oh, it's nothing. It's only natural between 'awakened'."
"...Oh."
She seemed flustered by my sudden drop into casual speech, but I didn't bother apologizing. From here on out, this was going to be one-sided enlightenment hour.
I began telling her my story from the moment of my awakening, embellishing it as I saw fit.
Killing zombies to raise my stats. Creating new skills. To an awakened person it was the obvious routine, but to Yoon Ayoung it must have been an entirely alien world.
I couldn't claim to be a masterful storyteller, but the experiences were spectacular enough on their own—I could see her leaning in, hanging on every word.
At some point I couldn't pinpoint, I found myself face to face with her, mid-conversation. My reflection pooled once more in her eyes.
Shwack— shwack—
At the part where I'd run a kitchen knife through a zombie's skull with a thrown spear, the hiking pole swept through the air like a witch's wand, as if I were reenacting the scene itself. She fell into my story like a kid watching a superhero movie.
Little by little, the physical distance between us began to shrink.
While she was absorbed in the tale, I quietly took her hand.
"...Hyik!"
With a strange little yelp, her whole body flinched hard. But I simply carried on with the story, more composed than ever.
For a while she squirmed, trying to wriggle her hand free this way and that, but at last I felt the strength drain slowly out of her grip.
Normally, a skinship scene this contrived would get flamed as laughably unrealistic even in a dating sim. For me, though, it was essential work.
Love and religion, it occurred to me, had a great deal in common. Both demanded fidelity. Both demanded devotion. Both required you to accept someone entering your personal space.
And I needed to brand myself into Yoon Ayoung—as her religion, and as her man—so this kind of contact was an indispensable element.
The story continued, our hands still entwined, until we reached the part where I'd lifted myself off the ground with telekinesis. When I mentioned flying around over Incheon, Yoon Ayoung went so far as to scold me not to lie.
She was finally starting to loosen up around me.
As if to prove it, I stood and slowly raised my body into the air. She watched with her eyes gone perfectly round, then asked if she could float too. I nodded and activated my telekinesis—and the sight of her hovering there, flailing in wonder before dissolving into delighted giggles, was something to see.
After setting her gently back on the ground, I returned to my seat and, quite naturally, took her hand again. This time she didn't resist.
I began spinning her a story—loosely adapted—about the things I'd observed while flying over the city. An army and its citizens being annihilated by the zombies. As I described it, I poured a burning fervor into my voice.
Looking into her eyes, I said it again and again:
Ordinary humans falling to the zombies are hopelessly inferior.
But we possess special abilities that let us stand against them. We are more than human.
And so, in this world of the dead, it is our duty to guide such people.
I repeated it like indoctrination, woven in and out of the story's pauses. She said nothing through any of it. She didn't stop me—but neither did her eyes agree.
The word the System had used when I invoked Sanctuary Declaration came back to me: 'unbeliever'.
Watching her head lower, as though the whole subject made her uneasy, I clicked my tongue softly.
As expected, it wasn't something that could be accomplished in a single sitting.
Releasing her hand, I mentioned that two hours had slipped by somehow and rose from my seat. Yoon Ayoung trailed me obediently toward the stairs, and at the sight of it I smiled faintly.
Once isn't enough, then twice. Three times.
Until the day she believed my words were true.
Brainwashing, after all, lives and dies by repetition.