The Author's Bargain
The zombie apocalypse novel had sucked me in. The so-called "Niga-wa" strategy. Annoyingly enough, there weren't many tactics that actually worked in this situation. The desks I'd hastily shoved together earlier had now become my shackles. Any attempt to approach would just get me beaten senseless by the author who'd been lying in wait. So I was getting impatient. I already wanted a break, and dragging this into a long war of attrition wasn't an option. I had no desire to waste brainpower trading blows with that bastard.
In the end, I decided to start with psychological warfare.
"Hey! Get out!"
"What if I don't want to?"
"Get out anyway! This is my house!"
"Your house? You're spouting nonsense. Squatting in someone else's PC Bang and calling it yours."
"There's no owner in this situation!"
"I even saved your life once, and this is how you repay me?"
"What the hell are you talking about, you crazy bastard."
Lies only worked if they sounded plausible. Saved my life once? Ha. What a joke. I'd taken down the Spider King all by myself. This guy had only shown up after everything was over. Handing me a towel? That was just basic decency, if anything.
"You. Lee Yeji! You helped the soldiers!"
"...How do you know that?"
"Because I saw it!"
"..."
"You became bait in place of the soldiers heading to Busan. I saw everything, so I know."
This didn't seem like a lie. There weren't many survivors left to have overheard it. So it was probably close to the truth. That made me wonder why the author hadn't grabbed me back then if he'd seen all that. If he was going to interrogate me like this now, there wasn't much difference between catching me then or now. Back then, I hadn't even had a real weapon.
"I had things to do, and I just kept you alive as a favor to an acquaintance."
"Hmm..."
"I even moved you to that woman's house."
"What about the kimbap and the Beopbong?"
"...That was that person."
"You bastard, so you didn't actually help at all."
This was the time to be shameless. Just keep responding with "So what?"
"To put it bluntly, that woman could've just carried me off herself. She didn't need you!"
"..."
"So what are you gonna do about it? Want me to save your life once too?"
"You little—"
"Aren't you embarrassed, hiding behind those desks like that?"
"..."
"Desk-hyung, hyung. At least try begging!"
"You son of a bitch!"
The author launched himself forward. He even tossed his bag aside to lighten his load, then swung a furious fist at me. Obviously, I had no courage to take that hit head-on. I threw myself sideways and scrambled away on all fours. The author, having hurled himself without thinking, stumbled. Now it was my turn to use the Niga-wa strategy.
I dashed toward the desks piled in one corner, grabbed whatever I could, and hurled it. Keyboards. Monitors. Mice. Anything within reach went flying. The PC Bang turned into chaos, but that didn't matter. If I couldn't beat this bastard right now, I was dead.
The author gritted his teeth and endured, but after taking a monitor to the face, he apparently decided he was going to die and fled. We ended up fortifying ourselves on opposite sides of the PC Bang.
"..."
"..."
Silence stretched between us. We just stared at each other, neither seeming inclined to speak. The author broke the silence first.
"Hey, Lee Yeji."
"What, you bastard."
"Let's call a truce."
"Truce? Truuuuce? I don't trust you. I know you've got some scheme."
"I didn't mention this earlier, but finishing the novel doesn't end things."
"Then what?"
"It only ends when you and I finish it together."
"...?"
I stood up, ready to call him out on the lie. Then the author made a gesture—thumb to his chin, pinky to his forehead. I sat right back down. Yeah. If he was swearing on his mom, it probably wasn't a lie.
"So if I want to get out, I have to cooperate. Is that it?"
"Quick on the uptake."
"And if we finish the novel, what happens?"
"Simple. You and I return to the real world."
"My... original body?"
"No. This body."
"Thank god. Wait, what am I thanking god for!"
I couldn't help but shout. Without realizing it, I'd been thinking that I hated my original body—the one that was useless for anything. I'd rather die. Becoming a woman had actually been more satisfying. The thought of returning to reality as a woman without any other consideration, just because I hated my past self, filled me with revulsion and an inexplicable chill. Even so, it was stupid. How could I welcome that without thinking about anything else?
"Don't worry. Whether I lose an arm or you stay a woman, it'll all be treated as something that already happened."
"...That's a relief, at least."
"And they said we could bring some of the abilities we gained in this world with us."
"...Do we have to?"
"Can't hurt to have them."
"That's true, but..."
The abilities from the novel weren't exactly overpowered. They were based on physical capabilities and hormones. At best, something like brainwashing in the mental category had rarity. The rest were just things a few real-world athletes could already do. So I wasn't exactly drooling over them. Wait, what was I even thinking? I shouldn't be getting convinced.
"That's not the issue."
"Hmm?"
"The other thing, you bastard. I can't trust you based on just that."
"Hah."
"You're laughing? We already fought once. How am I supposed to trust you?"
"Didn't you see the gesture earlier?"
"..."
I had nothing to say to that. Yeah, if he was swearing on his mom, I could believe everything he'd said so far. But I had to stay sharp. If I let my guard down like an idiot, I could end up boiled alive. That much, I absolutely refused. I pulled myself together.
"Forgive me. Let's just pretend everything before never happened and move on, yeah?"
"What?"
"On my mom—no, on my dad."
"...Fine."
The author nodded. It looked reluctant, but after seeing the gesture, I felt reassured. I still couldn't trust him completely, but... if he betrayed me, I'd just curse him out while dying. That much was non-negotiable.
"First, forgive me for reading illegally."
"I forgive you."
"Forgive me for running dozens of forced serialization campaigns too."
"...I forgive you."
"Forgive me for tearing apart every chapter I saw while it was being serialized."
"..."
"Hurry up."
"I forgive you."
"Forgive me for inciting forced serialization by claiming it was BL drift too."
"...Yeah."
"Yeah?"
The author's eyebrow twitched. I smiled for now. At this rate, maybe he'd forgive everything else too. Let's try one more, lightly.
"Forgive me for doxxing your family and mocking them too."
"You son of a bitch!"
"H-huh!?"
"That was you!?"
"You swore on your mom and dad!"
"You fucking—!"
The author swung his fist without warning and hit me. Honestly, I knew I'd earned it, but getting hit still felt unfair. Luckily, I had brass knuckles in my pocket. I had nothing to lose. So I charged in, ready to die together if that's what it took. Before long, a dogfight broke out.
I grabbed the author's hair. He seized my arm and kicked my leg. I bit his shoulder in return. The author screamed in pain and headbutted me. A jolt of agony shot through my skull, enough to knock the wind out of me. But I didn't hold back—I pounded on his body. He was covered in injuries that looked like zombie bites, and hitting those spots made him scream. Blood started flowing, so I hammered at them, only to take a hard punch to the stomach. It hurt so much I couldn't even make a sound. Compared to the General's fists, this was on another level. For a moment, I almost wanted to surrender. But I'd come too far to give up and lie down now. I shoved my fingers straight into his wounds and held on.
The author screamed and struck me several times before shouting.
"Let go, damn it!"
"Would you let go if you were me, you stupid bastard! Use your head!"
"You little shit!"
"Agh!"
Blood splattered quickly. When I bit him, he bit back. A real dogfight—not a metaphor—began. We avoided hitting vital spots as much as possible while rolling across the floor, changing positions again and again to inflict more wounds on each other. Honestly, I'd expected to get wrecked, but surprisingly, I was holding my own. The reason was simple. These solid brass knuckles. Swinging them around like this was enough to keep him disoriented. Of course, I was taking just as many hits, but I was confident in my endurance. If he was stronger than the General, so what? That bastard had died after letting his guard down and getting his head cracked open. So I could beat this guy too. I couldn't kill him, but still.
We kept trading blows, grabbing hair, and raising hell for a while. We switched positions repeatedly, hitting, biting, and cursing. When I finally came to my senses, I was on top. I was straddling the author's stomach, pinning his legs with mine and holding both his arms down so he couldn't move. I didn't know how I'd managed it, but my first thought was that it was a good thing.
"Hoo..."
I caught my breath first. Then I blinked, trying to wipe away what might have been sweat or blood. It didn't work well, so I cursed once and focused on the author beneath me. He was clutching his side and groaning. There were plenty of other wounds too—he looked like a mess.
"Who told you to charge in!?"
"...You bastard."
"..."
A chill ran down my spine. He was just catching his breath, but it felt like the author could get up at any moment. I didn't show it, but I was exhausted. If I let even one opening slip, I'd lose. So I had to say something now.
"Chang-hoon."
"What."
"How about... we call this a draw...?"
Of course, the author looked at me like I was insane.