D-Day 995: The Morning After

The clatter of something knocking. Footsteps threading between the sounds. They filtered through the thin blanket. I opened my eyes. My head felt heavy, as if stuffed with wet cotton; my thoughts refused to move smoothly. The first thing in my vision was the ceiling. Yellowish lamplight. Peeling old wallpaper. I stared at it blankly for a while.

“...What the hell.”

My voice came out hoarse. Even though it was my own, it startled me slightly. My body felt strangely heavy too. It wasn’t the aching throb of a cold, but my limbs lacked strength. My back was stiff like I’d been lying down for days, shoulders knotted tight.

The lamp was on, flooding the room with light. I rubbed my eyes a few times and pushed myself up. The blanket slid down below my chest. I glanced around out of habit and spotted my phone nearby. I turned on the screen like always. 1:33. I wondered if it was still morning. But the darkness visible through the gap in the curtains told me otherwise.

“U-um… Y-you’re awake…?”

The voice that reached me then was my sister’s. It was the kind of sound that drained the energy from anyone who heard it. The moment it hit my ears, my foggy mind began to turn, piece by piece.

Finishing work. Coming home. Washing up. Eating. Cutting it. Then.

“......”

Ah. That’s right. The memories didn’t return in one clear rush. They floated up in fragments. My sister’s flustered, lost ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠expression. My own voice. The system window’s notification chime. When my thoughts reached that point, I scratched at my head.

“What time is it…?”

When I asked, her answer came back hesitant. “...Half past one in the morning.”

“Ah…”

I’d slept later than usual. I’d passed out in a daze and woken at dawn. On any other day off, the thought of wasting it would have irritated me. This time, the annoyance didn’t come.

“Make food?”

She was in the kitchen area. Though calling it a kitchen was generous—the room and kitchen were one and the same, just a counter against the wall. She wore a t-shirt with some weird cartoon character on it and short shorts, nothing special. She was checking the pot, taking out bowls, opening side-dish containers.

Maybe she felt my stare. Her shoulders hunched a little. “Y-yes. It-it’ll be ready soon.”

“What are we eating?” My words blurred together with a yawn.

“Leftovers from yesterday… and, um, kimchi stew…”

“Kimchi stew?”

“Yes.”

“Got it.”

I nodded vaguely. Only then did the sour smell of boiling kimchi reach me. It made my mouth water, yet strangely I wasn’t hungry. Instead I only felt the heavy pressure of a full bladder.

“...Ugh.”

I stretched theatrically, started to throw off the blanket, then stopped. I’d just realized I wasn’t wearing anything. No wonder it felt drafty. Not even underwear. My soft cock hung there. The moment I registered it, my groin started to itch. I hadn’t washed after yesterday’s round with her. Dried juices and fluids, probably.

I considered it for a second, then decided to just head to the bathroom like this. Too much hassle otherwise. The only other person in the room was my sister anyway.

“...Ah.”

The room was tiny. A few steps took me from one end to the other. Naturally, I felt her eyes land on my naked body. Her gaze snapped away instantly. She pretended not to look, but the way she creaked like a broken toy gave her away. I scratched the back of my neck and opened the bathroom door.

“How long?”

“Uh, not long.”

“Exactly how long?”

“F-five minutes…?”

I briefly debated whether to shower. My body did feel sticky. Still, it seemed awkward to make her wait when the food was almost ready. Eat first, wash later. Decision made.

Trickle. Trickle-trickle.

“...Phew.”

Because I’d just woken up, the stream kept breaking before finally pouring out. After the waterfall subsided I flicked away the last drops with my hand and shook. I turned on the faucet, washed my hands. The cold water against my skin cleared my head a little. I splashed some on my face. Droplets ran down my chin. I wet my hand again and wiped between my legs. Then I came out rubbing myself vigorously with a towel. She was still preparing the meal.

“......”

It looked like it would be done soon. Two bowls of rice, utensils, side dishes. Listening to the pot bubbling, I sat cross-legged—still naked—and turned on my phone. There was nothing to look at. Still, I stared at the screen. I had nothing better to do.

“...U-uh? Uh-eh?”

My sister, who had been carrying the kimchi stew over, made a weird noise.

“What?”

“N-nothing. It’s nothing.”

When I looked up, she immediately lowered her eyes. Then she carefully sat down across from me.

“...Munch.”

“......”

The video playing on the phone continued in the background.

—The most popular one these days… try it once… here…

—…Ah, what are you… if you look closely…

The first meal of the day, eaten at dawn. No conversation between us. Only the video sounds filled the silence. Noisy, yet quiet.

“......”

But inside, my thoughts were actually quite complicated. Was she really that much of an idiot? What the hell. On the surface she acted like nothing had happened, but I was utterly bewildered. No matter how dense she was, I’d expected some kind of reaction. Crying. Hiding in the corner. Pulling the blanket over her head and staying silent. Sitting with her knees together and her head hung low. Those were the reactions I’d imagined.

If I forced her she’d probably comply, and afterward it would feel more like resignation than resistance. I couldn’t picture her screaming or getting angry. But pretending the whole thing had never happened? That was completely outside my expectations. Preparing a meal. That wasn’t something you casually did for the person who had raped you.

My sister had never been normal. Not with the way she behaved. Still… damn. I was so thrown off that I ended up pretending nothing was wrong too. Should I be happy about this? Uncomfortable? Somehow it felt like I had glimpsed the deep abyss inside her, and the feeling left a bad taste in my mouth.

“......”

Let’s just call it a good thing. It’s already done. If it’s fortunate, it’s fortunate. Not a bad outcome.

Nothing to talk about over the meal. I decided to check the changed status window instead. Pretending to look at my phone screen, I opened it. I’d fallen asleep yesterday without even checking.

‘Is thirty-two a lot…?’

Held points: 32. Was that a lot or a little? One point per vaginal ejaculation. That seemed low. Simple math said that doing it once a day for a thousand days would give me a thousand points. Ten times a day would be ten thousand. Setting aside whether a person could actually manage that. Looking at it that way, it suddenly felt like quite a lot.

My sister’s status window had changed too. The most noticeable thing was the [+] symbol next to several entries. It hadn’t been there the first time I looked. Whether it was my window or hers. I chewed my rice and casually tapped one.

The detailed sub-stats were the same as before. But what used to be view-only could now be adjusted. For example, raising height by 0.1 cm cost 1 point. Raising vision by 0.1 cost 1 point. Reducing weight by 100 g cost 1 point. That sort of thing.

Wait. Looking at it this way, it seemed ridiculously cheap. A hundred points for ten centimeters? If you thought about increasing someone’s height by ten centimeters, it felt insanely inexpensive.

The skill list was similar.

Everything was combat or survival related. Made sense if zombies were really coming in a thousand days. Even further down were things that could only be described as superpowers.

The status window itself was already absurd. Zombies appearing was ridiculous enough. Modifying a person with points was ridiculous. Complaining about superpowers at this point was laughable. If anything, it was welcome. Just having flight would drastically reduce the chance of getting bitten. Of course, if flying zombies existed, that was a different story. I’d worry about that when the time came.

I checked my own status window again. Maybe I could buy something too.

What the hell? Was this a hidden camera prank? Why were all my skills like this? I wasn’t exactly eager to fight, but this felt excessive. Zombies were coming. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠The world was ending. Half the population would get infected. I really couldn’t understand it.

When I thought about the whole slave-and-training system, it wasn’t completely incomprehensible. It made sense. It did make sense, but…

These bastards had zero intention of hiding anything. The structure was completely raw, without even a speck of packaging. I unconsciously clicked my tongue.

I wanted to use superpowers too, but no matter how hard I looked, they weren’t there. It seemed my role wasn’t meant to be a combatant. Unlike my ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sister, I couldn’t even adjust my physical stats. Did this make any sense? Forget Superman. Apparently I was supposed to be the male version of Lois Lane, the one who just screamed for help from the sidelines. The slave fights. I just collect more slaves.

“......”

What a fucking terrible system.