The Empty Revolver
I’d ended up inside a zombie apocalypse novel.
“Don’t you dare stop there!?”
“Would you stop if you were me, you dumbass?!”
Right now I had to run no matter what. The guy was holding a revolver. There was obviously nothing I could do about that. One pull of the trigger and I was dead. But there was no way he’d expose his body. So I dropped low and sprinted.
“You bastard!”
“Hah! If you’re pissed, come catch me!”
It sucked to leave the supplies at the mart, but my life mattered more. Besides, at this distance he couldn’t shoot accurately. The gunshot would be deafening, and no one would risk drawing every zombie in the area just to fire a gun. He’d chase me on foot. And sure enough, my prediction was spot on—the guy started running.
“Wait, why the hell is he so fast?!”
“Like I’d be slow! You! If I catch you, you’re finished!”
“Ack!”
I couldn’t flee back to the PC bang, but there wasn’t anywhere else to go. Actually, now that I thought about it, hiding there might work. If I blocked every entrance and held out, he’d have no way to reach me.
So I dashed inside at full speed, threw the bolt, stacked every movable obstacle I could find, and closed every door before it was too late.
Well, not every door.
“Ebebebeb.”
“…”
I had to taunt the bastard.
“Why don’t you shove your gun through the crack and shoot? Go on, shoot me!”
“Hey!”
The PC bang door rattled violently, but that was all. I’d hastily piled desks and monitors against it, so no amount of force would open it now. Realizing that, he shook the iron door with a furious roar. But what could he do? Unless he found another entrance, he was just wasting his time.
…Still, just to be safe, I meticulously blocked and locked every other entrance too.
“Changhun. Noh Changhun. Our dear Changhun.”
“…”
“Yeah, let’s hear why you came here. You’re the author. I get why I’m here, but why did you come?”
“It’s a long story. You wanna hear it?”
“I’ve got nothing better to do.”
I settled down right there on the floor. Just in case, I stacked more junk against the entrance and waited quietly. Fortunately the author stopped resisting. After some rustling, he finally started talking.
“There was a god. A goddess.”
“A goddess? What kind of nonsense is that?”
“Then how do you explain getting sucked into a novel?”
“…Fair point. Keep going.”
“When I died the first time, she said she’d make me the protagonist of the world she wanted to create.”
“Ah.”
“But honestly, a zombie apocalypse wouldn’t work, right? So I offered to write the story for her. A zombie-themed novel.”
“And she actually picked it up?”
“Yeah.”
It was the kind of story that only made sense inside a novel. If I hadn’t been transported into one, I would’ve cursed him out and called him an idiot. But I had been sent into the novel, and I’d even turned into a woman. So there was no reason not to believe him. Yeah, there must have been a god. Goddess or whatever.
“But why did you end up here?”
“The goddess betrayed me. Originally she planned to send other people in for a simulation.”
“Ah, readers like me? Wait, why? People who wrote five-thousand-seven-hundred-character comments or something?”
“No, the condition was simple. Anyone who downloaded the text file I uploaded to the pirate sites on the day I completed the novel.”
“Oh.”
“She spent three hours gathering people, and you must have been one of them.”
That stung. This guy’s novel had been insanely popular. Among the chamdok sites there were dedicated uploaders who turned every new chapter into a text file the moment it dropped. Since that was probably the biggest pirate site in the country, way more people than I expected must have gotten dragged in.
“At least a few dozen, right?”
“Probably.”
“Ha, shit. If I’d known I would’ve waited a few days before downloading.”
“You son of a bitch.”
“Does it bother you? Are you mad?”
I poked my head through the narrow gap in the door. The author outside wore a truly furious expression—jaw clenched, veins bulging on his forehead. It was actually pretty satisfying to watch.
“Aww, if you’re mad, why don’t you open the door and hit me? Or shoot me?”
“…Anyway, in the end even I got sent into this novel.”
“So there’s no way out?”
“There is. Completing the novel.”
Completing the novel. It sounded easy at first. The author had written the story, so he knew every event inside out. But once reality correction came into play, it was anything but simple. Even though I knew everything about the zombies, I’d still gotten bitten multiple times while fighting them.
“Thanks for the knowledge. I’ll just sit here spacing out for a few days and then head out.”
“…What if I refuse?”
“What are you gonna do if you refuse? Come in here? I saw all your pathetic struggling earlier.”
“…”
I heard a long, deep sigh. Then a hand suddenly shot through the gap. The author grabbed the iron door and shoved it open in one powerful motion.
“Huh? Hey?!”
My vision flipped instantly. I’d been sitting on the very desk I’d used as a barricade so I could taunt him up close. Pain exploded across my back. I must have fallen in the most embarrassing way possible. But there was no time to whine. I scrambled to my feet immediately.
The door shook violently once more, and the author stepped through with a menacing scowl. I grabbed my Beopbong.
“He’s in.”
“Yeah, I can see that!”
I swung it with everything I had. First strike wins, after all. Better to hit him first and teach him the hierarchy.
The author deftly blocked with his left arm. But the way he frowned told me it hadn’t been painless. Yeah, there was no way getting hit by this lump of iron wouldn’t hurt.
“You want to do this properly?!”
“Yeah. Let’s do it properly.”
“You think I’m stupid?!”
When he reached for his gun I smacked his hand with the Beopbong. He clearly hadn’t expected me to target his fingers; a bewildered smile crossed his face. The revolver spun across the floor and rolled under a desk—right where I could reach it. I dropped the Beopbong and dove.
“Damn it!”
The author lunged but he was too late. I snatched the gun and stood up with a triumphant grin, aiming it straight at him.
“Hands up, asshole!”
“Did you think I’d actually panic?”
“Huh?”
The revolver was empty. Which meant I had run away from a gun with no bullets. Before I could process that, the author’s fist flew at my face. I tossed the gun aside and hastily crossed my arms to protect my head. But pain suddenly bloomed in my stomach instead.
I don’t know how he did it, but the punch meant for my face had curved downward at the last second. I took the hit with my eyes wide open. If I could have dodged it would have been one thing, but there was no avoiding this. Still, it wasn’t enough to completely floor me. Tears and snot streamed down my face, and a little gastric juice trickled from my mouth, but—
“I-it’s bearable! Hic!”
“You said it was bearable!”
The author, who had just punched an innocent desk, roared in frustration. But I had things to say too. Did he really think I’d just stand there and take it like an idiot? Luckily dodging that last attack bought me time. I snatched the Beopbong and swung it upward from below.
“…!”
“How’s that taste!”
It wasn’t my strongest swing, but it still carried plenty of force. Just as I predicted, the author staggered back several steps, off balance. I readied another strike and advanced. I’d fought boxers before; I knew distance was everything for fist-fighters. If you didn’t give them space, they got pummeled. But judging by his condition, he couldn’t control the distance properly. He was fighting again without recovering, so it made sense. His head was already spinning after just a few moves.
Still, he wasn’t completely helpless. I’d gained some experience myself and could predict his movements to an extent. Plus the guy seemed to have spent a lot of strength earlier—his stance was clearly off. So I did this! I could read the next punch and block it like a bunt.
“Where do you think you’re going!”
“…Ugh.”
“Your punches are so slow. You think you can hit me moving like that?”
“After taking a clean hit earlier.”
“That was manners, you idiot. I let you have one.”
I swung the Beopbong in slow circles, measuring the distance. The author settled into a boxing stance. Looked like he was planning to mix in feints again. Honestly it was starting to feel dangerous. I might not be able to block or dodge everything. But the same seemed true for him. His footwork looked shaky, and he visibly flinched every time he put weight on his left foot.
“Mr. Author, did you get hurt pretty badly?”
“Like hell I did.”
“Hmph. Then why’s your footwork so unstable?”
“You look pretty exhausted yourself.”
“…Who looks exhausted? This Lee Yeji is in perfect condition. Perfect.”
We traded verbal jabs for a moment. The author struck first. A classic body blow that made my stomach clench just from seeing it coming. Fortunately I’d predicted it this time and twisted the Beopbong to block at the perfect moment. But I couldn’t stop my stance from crumbling. Even though the guy seemed injured, his strength was monstrous and I was the one pushed back.
“…”
“…”
Silence fell between us. I reset my stance and gripped the Beopbong tighter. Arm. Or at least the body. I needed to land a few more solid hits before I could relax and talk. But the author suddenly ducked behind a desk. Then, as if he had no intention of leaving, he kicked the door he’d come through shut.
Now I was the one in trouble. I’d assumed I was the only one who would be sieging. I never imagined he would pull the same move.