Chapter 53
Chapter 53
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 53
Chapter Title: University Administrative Office
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Yeah, the sight of my cum trickling down her snow-white thighs was pretty damn erotic.
But funny thing—even though it came from my own body, I didn't really feel like touching it.
Am I the only one like that? Probably not.
I looked around, but there wasn't any tissue in sight.
No choice—I pulled some out of my backpack. You never know when shit might hit the fan, so I always carry a pack. Y'know, for emergencies like taking a dump or whatever.
I wiped all the cum off her thighs and, just to be safe, dampened the tissue with some water and cleaned her up again.
Then I lifted the woman up, cradled her, and set her back in her original spot.
Hmm... she probably won't notice. Not that it matters if she does.
For good measure, I cast Sleep on her one more time. Waking up with a sore, wet pussy would be a dead giveaway, right?
I scanned the area with Detection, but nothing popped up.
No more buildings left on campus... which means no people either.
This school's a total wash. Nothing worth scavenging.
Someone could crawl in and try to hole up here, but it wouldn't be ideal. Food's too hard to come by.
I sat there thinking for a while when the guy who'd passed out drunk finally woke up—his Sleep effect had worn off.
I figured he'd snap awake, but the booze had hit him hard; even after Sleep ended, he was still out cold.
Jesus fucking Christ. This guy's a total misfit for this world.
I wondered how the hell he'd survived this long.
Whack!
I smacked him across the body with the flat of my machete.
Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack!
I laid into him with a jaunty 337-beat rhythm, really putting my back into it.
"Guhk... What the—! Agh! Krrk. Aaaah! Ack! Urk."
Oh, gross. This fucker just puked.
Late thirties? Early forties? Just your average potbellied middle-aged dude.
The stench of vomit was infuriating.
If I kill him now, does the puke disappear with him? God, I hope so. Make it easy to just off the bastard.
"Answer my questions, or I'll beat you again."
"Krrk. Ugh. What the hell! What is this, you fuck?!"
Whack!
"Ow!"
Always takes a good smack to knock some sense into them.
"You fucking shit! Untie me! You goddamn dog! Kim! Park!"
"The guy sleeping in the president's office and the one in the duty room are dead."
He shut up the second I said that.
Finally grasping the situation, huh? You moron?
"Wanna die too?"
"Pl... please spare me. I'll be quiet! Please!"
"Shut up. Answer only what I ask."
Fuck, the puke smell is overwhelming. Anything around here?
I stepped out and checked the neighboring rooms one by one. Jackpot—a curtain. I ripped it right off the rod.
Carried it back, threw it over his vomit, and said,
"Get up there. Keep your puke stink contained."
He squirmed his way onto the curtain. Pathetic sight, really.
"What's your skill?"
"Telekinesis! Telekinesis!"
"Explain."
"Anything I can see—I can move it, lift it, throw it! Please... please spare me."
"Quiet down. If I wanted you dead, you'd be gone already."
"Hah... thank you. Thank you."
"Didn't I say shut up?"
He finally clamped his mouth shut. Peace at last.
Telekinesis, huh... surprisingly versatile.
"How big can you lift?"
"S-size? Size doesn't matter! It's all about weight!"
"Go on."
"Weight... like a six-pack of water bottles bundled together. A bit more—around 15 kilos?"
"Speed when lifting and moving?"
"Just barely enough to carry water along."
He trembled as he desperately pitched his usefulness.
Thinks that's how he stays alive, huh?
"How do you kill people with that?"
"Smash a brick into their head or... "
"How many times have you maxed proficiency at 100%?"
"Huh? 100%? T-twice."
Twice. That's Advanced level, then.
Honestly... kinda useful.
Size and weight limits suck, but hurl a hand axe with it and you could instant-kill.
"Range? Duration?"
"Range is about 10 meters, 15 seconds..."
He's clearly put real thought into his skill.
Answers everything without hesitation.
Plenty of idiots don't even know their own limits.
Of course, they're all dead now.
10 meters. Kinda short. And 15 seconds? Way too brief.
"Where'd you catch these two?"
"Here... in the administrative office."
"Why didn't you gag or blindfold them?"
"No need. Soju Creation and Heal."
Sigh... fuck me. Deep breath.
Soju Creation... insane. And Heal... total defensive bitch move.
"Who's the soju guy?"
"The man."
A dude with soju... Jesus. What kinda thinking is that? Gotta ask.
Time's almost up anyway—they'll wake soon. Fuck.
"Caught a soju maker and threw a booze bash? Handy girl around too, so you fucked her brains out?"
"Y-yes! Exactly! They're useful! Big tits on the girl! Fixed Kim's sprained ankle too!"
Pathetic. Bragging to me about his catches? No clue what fate awaits.
"Ngh."
"Mmgh."
Sleep wore off, and the bound pair stirred awake.
Would've had to wake them otherwise—saved me the trouble.
"Gasp!"
"Eek!"
No gag or blindfold, so they spotted me the second their eyes opened and freaked.
Can't blame 'em—waking to a machete-wielding stranger.
Man eyes me warily; woman cowers behind him in terror.
I approached the pair.
Couldn't see before, but the man's lip is busted open.
Did these assholes beat him?
"Hey. Soju Boy."
"Y-yes...?"
"You're Soju Boy. You're next to him, so you're Heal Girl."
Heal Girl clings to Soju Boy, ignoring me.
"You can see the situation. So no bullshit, no funny moves—just answer straight."
"Y-yes..."
"Why aren't you answering?"
"Y-yes... sob."
"No crying either. Too noisy."
She bit her lip hard, staring at me.
Hmm... cuter than I thought. Tempted for round two.
"Why pick Soju Creation? And why'd your girlfriend go Heal?"
"Huh? She's—"
"They're not a couple! Siblings!"
Telekinesis Guy yelled.
I strode over and soccer-kicked his face hard.
Thwack!
"Guuuk!!"
"Fuck off. Don't open your worthless mouth unless I say."
"Kkh..."
Boot to the face hurts like hell. So keep it shut. Why's that so hard...?
Back to the pair—siblings, was it? Squatted down in front of them.
"Siblings?"
"Yes..."
"Yes."
"Brother or sister first?"
"I'm the brother."
"Hmm... ages?"
"Twenty-three. Sister's twenty-two."
"Blood related?"
"Yes."
"Yes."
Wild.
In this shithole world... after killing became daily life, seeing family was a rare sight.
Post-collapse, family turned into a massive burden or straight poison.
Some groups stuck together fine, but it never lasted.
Parents at good age? Kids too young. Kids grown? Parents old.
Dead weight either way.
Plus, families guzzle resources and struggle to adapt to slaughter.
Killing in front of your kids shreds your morals.
Lose a member, and the group's morale tanks fast.
Ends with one broken shell left.
These two were impressive, then. Skills sucked, sure.
"Answer what I asked earlier."
"Huh?"
"Why those skills?"
"Oh... that... saw a YouTube doc on folks isolated in wars... said booze trades well... and soju disinfects, cleans too..."
Sigh... fuck. Told kids to quit that YouTube crap.
"Then why Heal for your sister? Hey, Heal Girl. You tell me."
"W-well... healers protect people..."
"Haa."
Couldn't help the sigh.
"We regret it too... who knew it'd turn into outright killing? Thought we'd band together and survive..."
Fair point.
Early days had that vibe.
Water, power unlimited; cops, order intact—society held.
But no bodies left after death? That single flaw nuked it all.
No evidence, no punishment for crimes.
Society imploded from within.
Still, these two didn't seem dumb.
Shit skills, but they'd survived—resourceful.
And the sister was hot.
Waste to kill a pretty girl. Not that I'm one to talk.
"Got something to say to you two. Wanna hear?"
They nodded, fear lingering in their eyes.