A Deal at Gunpoint
The writer roughly wiped his side and hunched over. Then, careful not to aggravate the wound, he rummaged through the medicine. Apparently unsatisfied with what he found, he looked at me as I headed for the shower and asked, “Where’s the pharmacy entrance?”
“You saw it on the way in. Just go out the same door you came through.”
“Fine. What about food?”
“I don’t have any either. There’s a gym upstairs—go eat some protein or something.”
“Protein?”
“Yeah. I’m showering now.”
When I shut the door, hurried footsteps echoed outside. Feeling uneasy, I poked my head out of the shower room, but it seemed he’d gone to the pharmacy. Relieved, I stripped off my clothes.
“Agh…”
I’d been complaining that only the bastard’s body was abnormal, but now that I looked, mine wasn’t exactly normal either. Nothing was broken, but I was covered in scratches and puncture wounds. Still, a proper wash and a decent meal would probably fix most of it. So I started scrubbing quickly.
“What the hell, this blood…”
The gash on my side must have been pretty bad—the shower floor was slick with blood. Luckily the tub itself wasn’t too messy, so it didn’t interfere with washing. Hot water came out fine, and there was shampoo, soap, even bath salts. If I’d had the time, I could’ve actually enjoyed it. But I didn’t, so I kept the shower short.
“Shit…!”
I couldn’t risk staying past the time limit, so I rushed out without properly dressing. My hair was so long it was hard to wash properly. At least the writer didn’t seem to be around. I pulled on underwear first, then dried myself slowly while waiting.
Not long after, the writer returned, carrying a bottle stuffed with something he’d scavenged from who-knows-where.
“Having a gym here is convenient.”
“Yeah, it’s nice. Got equipment and everything.”
“And these protein shakes. Energy bars too.”
“Hey! Those are mine!”
“Yours?”
His eyes said he hadn’t even known they existed. I backed off for now. If I’d known they were there, I would’ve eaten them all anyway. How was I supposed to resist energy bars?
“Tch. I can’t give you anything else. I need to eat and recover too.”
“I’m sure you do.”
“Even if we’re allies now, we still have to settle debts.”
“Right. Here’s your payment.”
The writer suddenly thrust a gun at me. It looked like the same revolver from earlier. I’d wondered where it went, but apparently he was threatening me with an empty gun again. I didn’t even flinch. If he was going to do something, he should at least shoot while threatening.
Just like before…?
“…Huh?”
A gunshot rang out. The bullet grazed the hair on the right side of my head and embedded itself in the wall. The writer calmly handled the revolver and said, “I asked you earlier, didn’t I? Why didn’t you buy bullets with your points?”
“…Yeah.”
“Because you get points for killing zombies. So I bought some.”
“…?”
The hole in the wall looked smaller than I expected. Usually bullets made bigger marks, but that was a thought for later. I slowly met the writer’s gaze, then ducked behind the nearest cover.
“Not coming out!?”
“Would you, if you were me!?”
“I’m not gonna kill you!”
“How the hell am I supposed to believe that!?”
He was holding a gun. In this world, that alone was an enormous threat. Empty or not, the fact that he could kill me with one pull of the trigger was terrifying. Especially since he’d just fired right next to my head. No wonder I was on edge. We both knew the other was plotting something—how was I supposed to trust him? I was already thinking about cracking his skull open. Whether he was the writer or not, cooperation only worked if there was trust. So there was no way I was stepping out unarmed.
“Hey, Lee Yeji. Think carefully.”
“What? Why!?”
“You think I can’t shoot you just because you’re hiding there?”
“…”
“Let’s not waste each other’s energy.”
“R-right…”
He had a point. As long as I couldn’t leave the PC Bang, I was within his range. He could just walk over and pull the trigger. So I had no choice but to come out.
The writer looked worse than I’d thought—pale, sweating coldly.
“Listen to one request.”
“What request?”
“Give me some food.”
“I don’t have any.”
“Go to the mart and get some. Even a little.”
“That all?”
“A physics textbook too.”
“Why a physics book?”
“…It helps me feel safe. Solving physics problems calms me down a bit.”
“…?”
“What, you bastard!”
The writer raised his voice, but I was just dumbfounded. If it had been any other book, maybe. But physics books made him feel safe? That was a little scary. No wonder he became a writer.
“Just go and come back. Fine, I’ll go.”
“Hurry.”
“Ah, put the gun down!”
“If I lower it, you’ll just attack me.”
“…”
“You’ll do anything to stay on top, to survive.”
“Isn’t that obvious!?”
“Go already! And leave the knuckles behind.”
“Why?”
I hid the steel knuckles behind my back. The bastard looked like he fought with his fists. So far I’d only won because he had no weapons. Without a close-range weapon, I could maneuver around him. But if he got one, I didn’t think I could handle it.
“…”
Honestly, I hesitated. The guy was ridiculously strong. When he’d landed that solid punch earlier, I’d thought I was done for. If he added knuckles on top of that, I wasn’t confident I could take even one hit. I’d probably end up on the floor crying and clutching my legs. So this was a real dilemma. I’d be handing over my lifeline. What made me think I could trust the bastard? Just because he was “the writer” wasn’t enough reason to give up something as useful as steel knuckles.
“Think about it. If I die, it’s over for you too.”
“…Shit.”
Fine. Worst case, I die. Could it really be worse than that? So I tossed the knuckles over. The writer didn’t even have the strength to catch them properly—he grunted as they clattered to the floor, then picked them up and slipped them on. The whole time, he never let go of the gun.
“I’ll be back. Just wait here!”
“…Yeah.”
“Steal anything and you’re dead!”
“Ah, while you’re at it, look for a handcart. We’re not staying here forever.”
“Got it, got it.”
The writer seemed pretty drained. After talking for a while, he had to catch his breath.
…It wasn’t entirely satisfying, but the goal had been more or less achieved. Until his side wound healed, the writer probably couldn’t do much. With that thought, I grabbed my bag and Beopbong and headed outside.
The street was a mess. The walls looked like they’d been raked by claws. I’d seen this description in the novel before. Hunters. Among the variants, they were especially good at hunting. They could switch between bipedal and quadrupedal movement for pursuit, and their fingertips had razor-like blades that extended when they flexed. Combined with powerful arms and jaw strength, they were perfect for turning experienced survivors into rags.
Now I understood. The writer had definitely been chased by Hunters. That’s why he’d approached me—to use me. Buy time to recover, and use me as a shield to reach the ending.
“…”
I didn’t wonder why he hadn’t told me. He’d known that if he did, I’d bare my teeth. And he was right. If something went wrong, I’d planned to flip the table anyway.
“Still, he could’ve said something…!”
I’d never fought a Hunter before. These were early ones, so they probably weren’t that strong yet. But Hunters were dangerous because of their intelligence and numbers. If I messed up, I could be finished. With that in mind, I headed for the nearby bookstore.
Fortunately, I didn’t run into any strong zombies on the way. They were the kind I could handle, and by the time the fight ended I could even start a fire. After dealing with the bodies, I soothed my aching limbs and climbed up to the bookstore.
There weren’t many zombies inside—just one at the counter and two student-looking ones. I took them down without much trouble, then stuffed several high-school physics textbooks into my bag. Then I bolted out of the store. I’d rushed in without checking for zombies on the upper floors. If I’d wasted more time and something weird showed up, I’d have been in real trouble.
“Whoa…”
The big mart looked spectacular when I went back in. Thinking that all the edible food here was mine made me grin. But I couldn’t stay long. I just needed to grab a few things and leave. I didn’t know what kind of zombie might have moved in since last time.
So I carefully ran toward the aisle where food had been displayed before. Luckily, it didn’t look like anyone had been here. No zombies, no survivors. The mart was exactly as I’d left it after killing the Spider King. I spotted some ready-made burgers that seemed decent, so I quickly shoved them into my bag. On the way, I also found hand carts in the storage area—green ones that looked like they could be linked together.
Anyway, I couldn’t stay here much longer. The Hunters had their eyes on this place, and if I wanted to see the ending, I’d have to move toward where the protagonist was.
“I’ll think about that later.”
For now, eating and resting sounded like the best plan.