A Debt That Must Be Repaid

"...Anyway! What kind of land is that for you to just use as you please? I've lived here since '88. It's been over 40 years, 40 years! You think you can just snatch up land I've been farming for four decades?"

"...Don't people have any sense of shame? You want to just use a building worth over 3 billion won? I can't allow that."

"...No, seriously. That machine, I just replaced it last year, you know? Does it make any sense to just use something this expensive?"

"......"

Jun-ho watched them with a detached expression. At first, they had been somewhat cautious, but as they kept talking, they gradually straightened their shoulders, and eventually, they tilted their heads back and finished their sentences in casual, informal speech. There had been people like this before the regression, too. No, there had been quite a lot of them.

How could people who knew exactly what the world had become, and who had been on the brink of death just a few days ago, change like this? They hadn't changed. They were just the kind of people they had always been. Just as the lack of law, order, and police power hadn't been the reason so many people committed shameless acts in the past, the same applied now that those things had vanished.

And now, with law, order, and public authority gone, dealing with people like this was quite simple. Of course, it wasn't through 'direct violence,' the most convenient method. While violence could be a 'standard of order,' there were far more effective ways in this situation.

Jun-ho scanned the three men and the dozen or so others standing behind them. They were survivors who had put these three forward as their representatives, and every single one of them was a landlord, a landowner, or a factory owner.

"...I understand."

At Jun-ho's words, the three men and those behind them brightened. They had been a bit—no, very—scared, but Jun-ho’s unexpected compliance boosted their confidence. The owner of the vacant lot, who had been the loudest and most talkative, grinned.

"Ah, you're quite flexible for a young man. Anyway, we..."

"Let's not use your land, buildings, or factories."

"...Huh?"

"I mean, get out of here right now. From today, you can go live on your own land, in your own buildings and factories. As for water, there's a stream, so go fetch it yourselves. You'll have to find your own food and daily necessities from now on, too. Goodbye."

"......!"

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

As Jun-ho continued, the expressions of the people, which had been shifting, turned to shock. As Jun-ho immediately began to walk away, they hurriedly blocked his path.

"Wait, what do you mean? Leave? You're telling us to leave this school...?"

"Yes. Since you have no intention of joining the community, I'm telling you to leave. You can live amongst yourselves and wait until your precious government and military arrive."

"What is this..."

"Hey, look here. Why is a young man so impatient? We aren't really asking you to pay us money. We're just asking for a little convenience. It's better for everyone if we get along, you know, young man..."

Jun-ho smirked at the man in his late 50s who was blocking his path and clicking his tongue.

"No..."

The middle-aged man, seemingly displeased by that smirk, was about to argue further.

"Stop talking down to me. Just go to your land and farm it yourself, you fucking asshole."

Shing.

Jun-ho, having openly cursed at him, drew his machete.

"Ugh..."

The middle-aged man stumbled backward, his face instantly pale with terror, and the others began to sweat, their faces turning deathly white.

Jun-ho rested the machete on his shoulder and continued, looking at the middle-aged man and the others.

"I'll give you one last chance. Anyone who still thinks like these assholes, get out right now. Even if it's your land, building, or factory, since it's inside the community zone, I'll take responsibility for your safety so that neither zombies nor people can get in."

"Ah..."

"......"

Most of them—no, everyone except for the landowner who had been backing away until his spine hit the wall—avoided Jun-ho's gaze.

"No one? Think carefully while I'm giving you a chance. You have three days. And..."

Jun-ho said to the middle-aged man, whose face had turned ghostly white.

"You three, take your families and get to your land or factory right now. Unless you want to die."

"N-no! Where is the law in this!"

"Let go! Let go of me! Aaaah...!"

The man in his 50s who had claimed ownership of the land and his wife were dragged away by Song Ki-jun and the Search and Destroy Squad from The First Apartments. Since they only lived in the same Gahyeon-ri but were essentially strangers, the squad felt no hesitation. Above all, Song Ki-jun believed that the method Jun-ho had directed was the most rational in the current situation. That was why he had decided to handle this matter himself, following Jun-ho's suggestion.

- I will set the standard clearly and step back a bit. The rest is up to you, Mr. Song Ki-jun, and the other Gahyeon-ri residents.

Above all, Jun-ho intended to keep the promise he had made on the day he first met him.

"Argh! Aaaargh!"

"Hey, you bastards! Aaaah...!"

Song Ki-jun, who had shoved the two people—who were screaming at the top of their lungs—into an old house attached to their own vacant lot, threw in their luggage and a few days' worth of water and food, closed the door, and turned around coldly.

"Start."

Whirrr! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!

Six tractors and forklifts that had been standing by began to move as if they had been waiting. Two of the forklifts had originally been in Gahyeon-ri, and the tractor and the remaining four electric forklifts were ones Jun-ho had brought from the shelter. The tractors and forklifts began to build a wall around the house and the vacant lot where the middle-aged couple had just entered, using abandoned cars and container boxes that had been scattered throughout Gahyeon-ri.

Since they had already installed barbed wire and sharpened pipes on the bodies and walls of the vehicles for defense against zombies and looters, the work finished faster than expected, as the tractors only had to push them and the forklifts had to lift and move them. The scrap cars and container boxes completely surrounded the single-story house and the vacant lot—which was about two-thirds the size of the school playground—leaving only one passage with a door that could only be opened from the outside.

After the work was finished, Song Ki-jun opened the door to the house, and the trapped couple rushed out in a panic.

"Huk!?"

"W-what is this...?"

The two were horrified to see that their house and land were completely isolated from the outside world. Song Ki-jun said with a stern expression.

"We will open that passage once a day. You are free to walk the roads, but entry is prohibited to all buildings belonging to our Gahyeon-ri community. You are free to fetch water from the stream, but no other supplies or food will be provided."

"What did you say!?"

"No, where in the world is there such a law!"

Song Ki-jun responded coldly to the couple who were screaming.

"Yes, there is no such law. But so what? What are you going to do about it?"

"W-what?"

"Do you really not realize that there is no longer any law or public authority to protect you two?"

"......!"

"Whether you two get torn apart by zombies on the street, or get beaten to death by thugs and have everything you own stolen, there is no one left to help you. Lee Jun-ho and we offered to take that place for you. The price was simply to participate in our Gahyeon-ri community. But you two took that for granted and only asserted your rights. So, we are exercising our community's rights as well. The people of the community have all agreed to this. Is there something wrong with that?"

"N-no..."

"Then I hope you live well. Oh, and."

Song Ki-jun, who had turned away, glanced back and warned them.

"If you scream or cause a disturbance on purpose, the number of times we open that passage will be reduced to once every three days. If you do it again, once a week, and if you repeat the same behavior, once every fifteen days, then once a month... I believe you understand what that means."

"A..."

"W-wait! I made a mistake. I was wrong. T-this land! Just use it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠however you want! So please..."

Song Ki-jun, who had firmly pushed away the two people who were now begging, left the isolated vacant lot. The same measures were taken at the buildings and factories of the other two people who had only asserted their own rights.

And...

They, who had been crying and protesting until the very first day, couldn't even last a week before bringing all their families, running to Jun-ho the day he came to Gahyeon Elementary School, and kneeling before him. Food was a problem, but they simply couldn't survive in this freezing winter without fuel and electricity. Moreover, even when they went outside, people acted as if they had made a pact to ignore them entirely. They treated them like invisible people, ignoring them even when spoken to.

In the end, the sanctions were only lifted after they wrote a memorandum—in the presence of a lawyer and a legal scrivener who were survivors from The First Apartments—transferring the rights to their land, buildings, and factories to the Gahyeon-ri community, free of charge and indefinitely. Naturally, after that, no one in the Gahyeon-ri community asserted only their own rights.

In a world where law and order had vanished, the one holding the knife was king. And Jun-ho held not only the knife but also food, energy, and even medicine and medical services. In the end, Jun-ho, who possessed the power to dictate everything, succeeded in incorporating the Gahyeon-ri community into an apocalyptic order and making them comply, all without resorting to the simplest form of direct violence, by putting Song Ki-jun and Kim Seok-hwan at the forefront.

January 3, 2025, 09:40, near the Russky Bridge (Русский мост) in Vladivostok, Russia.

Vroom! Vroom...! Roaaar...!

A dozen motorboats sped under the Russky Bridge, cutting through the midwinter sea breeze. On the boats were people wearing thick clothes, all armed with firearms. However, the group of motorboats that had been racing across the sea at high speed soon had to stop.

"Damn it. The sea is frozen. Everyone disembark."

"Let's get off."

"Everyone disembark!"

The men, all wearing black masks to block the sea breeze that felt like it would slice through their skin, carefully climbed off the boats and onto the ice.

"Hey, Volk brother, you're really not going?"

"If we all go, who's going to guard the boats? You guys go and earn the glory you want so much."

"Trus Baba (Cowardly bitch)."

Though he was insulted as a cowardly bitch, Viktor Volk Choi did not respond at all, his expression unchanging. The large man who had pulled up his mask and spat on the ground, along with the others, walked across the sea ice. Soon, the subordinates who had followed from the Busan branch began to drive stakes and tie the boats securely.

Viktor Volk Choi, who had been staring at them blankly, pulled something from inside his coat. It was an old-fashioned mobile phone, its screen cracked but still functional. Clicking the text icon, Viktor Volk Choi tapped the name 'Брат Джуно' (Brother Jun-ho), and a long message appeared.

"Volk."

Viktor Volk Choi, who had already read the ten messages Jun-ho had sent all at once a few days before the world ended hundreds of times, looked up after reading them again. A subordinate who had finished the work spoke up cautiously.

"Are you really not going? If those guys succeed, the boss will be incredibly angry."

"Angry? He'll be angry. But what can the boss do?"

"Huh?"

The subordinates tilted their heads. Viktor Volk Choi pulled up his mask and put a cigarette in his mouth. One of the subordinates quickly lit it with a Zippo lighter, and after taking a few puffs, Viktor shared the remaining cigarettes with all his subordinates.

"Hehe. Thank you."

"We'll enjoy it."

As several trails of cigarette smoke rose above the sea ice, Viktor exhaled a deep cloud of smoke and said.

"Do you know how many tourists are on Russky Island in August?"

"......?"

"Jolla man ah (There are so many)."

At Viktor's Korean, the subordinates' eyes widened. Since they had all lived in Busan for a long time, they could understand that much.

"Those idiots are just going there to die. For the past two months, I've sent communications to the brothers on Russky Island every day, but there was no answer. Yani, Barinov. Brothers who were loyal and brave enough to be second to none. Those guys won't make it."

"Ah..."

At those words, the subordinates looked with pity at those who were diligently crossing the frozen Ajax Bay toward the coastline where the Far Eastern Federal University (FEFU) was located.

"Volk, then what are you going to do? Even if they die, if we just go back on our own, the boss will definitely have something to say."

"What do you mean, what am I going to do..."

Viktor Volk Choi, who had crushed the finished cigarette with his foot, checked his rifle and smiled coldly.

"Whether the brothers die or not, I'm going to cut the throat of that Sukin syn (son of a bitch) who keeps pushing them into the jaws of death for his own greed. Anyone who wants to drop out, drop out."

"......!"

The subordinates were startled, but soon answered as if they had been waiting.

"You're saying that a bit late, aren't you? Weren't all Koreans and Koryo-saram 'pally pally' (hurry hurry)?"

"Suka! I've been wondering when we'd take care of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that motherless bastard!"

Though they had already known, Viktor Volk Choi, having reconfirmed that everyone felt the same way, said as he climbed onto the motorboat.

"Let's go. We'll take care of that mongrel bastard and take over the port and the combined heat and power plant ourselves. We'll scout Russky Island and the Far Eastern Federal University thoroughly after the weather warms up, and then occupy them step by step. After that."

Viktor smiled, staring at the southern sea beyond Russky Island.

"You see, I want to load up on fuel and firearms and go to Korea. What do you brothers think? No matter how I think about it, I feel like I have to repay the debt to the Brat who saved our lives, Lee Jun-ho."

"Da!" (Yes!)

"Imenno!" (Exactly!)

The Far Eastern Russian mafia, knowing that the decisive reason they had survived safely was because of Viktor Volk Choi's Korean Brat, Lee Jun-ho, agreed in loud voices.