The Author Is Burning Up
I got lucky. That’s the only way to put it. On my way back to the PC Bang, I’d spotted an empty lot between two buildings. That would be perfect for the job. Or I could just use the warehouse at the big-box store—I’d already confirmed the doors were open. Since I’d need to grab a handcart from there anyway, I decided to head back and take a proper look.
“Whoa.”
Green handcarts were scattered everywhere. It looked like someone had been organizing stock; at least eight of them lay on the floor. Yeah, if I chained six of them together I could pull them like a wagon. I could swap out the wheels or even attach bicycle parts. If my memory was right, the author was a country boy who’d done stuff like this all the time. That’s why the novel had so many modification scenes.
“Not sure if there’s a hardware store around, though.”
There had to be one somewhere, but the kind of building that never showed up when you actually needed it made me nervous. Still, I figured I’d manage. No way a town this size didn’t have at least one hardware store. With that thought, I headed back to the PC Bang—only to hear painful groaning the moment I stepped inside.
Something felt wrong. I sprinted over and found the author on the verge of death.
“Hey! Hey!”
“…You’re back.”
“Your body—holy shit, you’re burning up!”
“That’s how it turned out.”
“You crazy bastard! What do you mean ‘that’s how it turned out’?!”
The situation had gone completely off the rails. If the author died now, it would be catastrophic. I hurled the hamburgers onto the desk, hauled him up, and dragged him outside. He just stared at me with blank, unfocused eyes, like he had no idea what was happening.
I yanked the mattress off the bed, laid it on the floor, and stripped off his top.
“You’re running a fever!”
“Well… I am dying, so…”
“Shut the hell up! I’m not letting you die! If you die, how the fuck am I supposed to get back?!”
“You son of a bitch! You’re the one who kept digging into my wounds!”
“Who told you to charge in like an idiot?! You gotta read the room before you pick a fight!”
“…Forget it.”
The author gave up and lay down. I quickly stripped the rest of his clothes off until he was in nothing but his underwear, then bolted to the pharmacy. I grabbed fever reducers and bandages, soaked the bandages with bottled water, and slapped them on his forehead. While I was at it, I tore open the fever reducer and read the instructions.
Wait… could I just feed him this? Weren’t these only for fevers caused by colds? My head was spinning. Still, I couldn’t just sit there, so I shook him awake and made him swallow the pills.
“Do something, anything! What about the point shop?! That bathroom we bought together?!”
“I have to kill zombies.”
“Then tell me how many! I’ll do it!”
“Efficiency’s absolute dogshit. Ten zombies for one point. A single lollipop costs ten points.”
“Then how did you buy it?”
“I used the points they gave me at the start out of pity. Just to mess with you. Feels weirdly off, though.”
“…Why?”
“Truth is, there’s no CG room. Just a couple convenience functions at best.”
“Don’t say shit like you’re about to ascend! What am I supposed to do if you die?!”
“There’s no status window either. The revolver was just something I picked up off a dead cop. And… thanks.”
“…For what?”
“It was pretty fucking awful, but thanks to you I managed to pull decent aggro.”
“You insane motherfucker! Don’t die on me!”
I almost asked why I’d even bothered bringing the hamburgers if he couldn’t eat them, but instead I ran back to the pharmacy and tore the place apart. I never expected the situation to flip this drastically. I’d figured a guy that big would last longer. But if he kicked the bucket, I was screwed too. We were in the same boat.
No matter what, I wanted to return to reality.
“Ugh…!”
I frantically grabbed every medicine that looked even remotely useful, then rifled through the author’s bag. I found a towel, soaked it with water again, and placed it on his forehead. His expression had turned strangely peaceful—completely different from the pained grimace he’d worn earlier. It was the face of someone who had let go of everything.
That was when I finally checked his wounds properly and realized the truth. This bastard didn’t have a single uninjured spot on him. The side I’d gouged was bad enough, but he’d been hiding the fact that his back and waist were covered in scratches and gouges.
“So this is what dying feels like. Second time for me.”
“Aaaaaagh! My side’s torn open! It’s bleeding…! What do I do?!”
“Ah, shut up.”
“Shut up yourself, you fucking asshole! Just eat this for now!”
“I don’t have an appe—”
I didn’t wait for the rest. I shoved an entire hamburger into his mouth. He gave me a strange look, but I ignored it and examined the medicines I’d brought.
“Stay lying down! Hemostatic, where’s the hemostatic…”
“It’s fine. Eating while lying down will give me indigestion.”
“…”
As I frantically applied medicine and wrapped bandages, I realized how ridiculous we both looked. A half-naked man eating a hamburger while I desperately fussed over him with drugs. The absurdity of it made emotion surge up, and I snapped at him for not telling me sooner.
His answer came immediately, and it was one I couldn’t refute. If I’d seen him looking weak, wouldn’t I have tried to take advantage of him? Honestly, I had nothing to say. If I could have beaten him, I would’ve smashed him with Beopbong long ago and made him submit. Without the gun, I probably would’ve just yelled at him instead of following orders.
Thankfully, the wound on his side that had burst open earlier finally stopped bleeding. By the time I finished, I was completely drained.
“Haa… haa… whew. Did we get past the worst of it?”
“No, Yeji. I’m the one who’s injured. Why are you the one acting exhausted?”
“If blood keeps gushing out every time I wrap the bandage, of course I’d get tired. Wouldn’t you?”
“No wonder my vision was spinning. Anemia?”
“Lie down. Eat and then lie down. There’s water here too.”
I quickly laid the author—who had finished the hamburger—back down. Then I sat beside him, ready to jump up at any moment, and kept watch. The whole situation felt absurdly funny. When we first met, he ran away like his tail was on fire and I teased him mercilessly. Then we bit and clawed at each other like dogs. And now here I was, desperately nursing him so he wouldn’t die. Life really was unpredictable.
“If you pick a fight and then die, I’m shortening your name.”
“How?”
“I’ll drop the ‘Hun’ from Noh Changhun.”
“Are you insane…”
“So don’t die. If you die, how am I supposed to get back to reality…? I don’t want to go out as a virgin, okay?”
“Virgin?”
“Fuck!”
“You’re an idiot…”
“Why am I—!”
It was a little ridiculous. My body had changed because of that special circumstance, right? Being sucked into the novel was unfair… well, maybe not entirely, but still. This was my first time dealing with something this unreal, so of course I wasn’t acting perfectly rational.
“Why do you dress like that all the time?”
“P-people can dress however they want!”
“Then why haven’t you made any armor? The novel clearly explained simple ways to make it.”
“…Ah.”
“There was a General around here. You’re the one who killed it, right?”
“H-how did you…?”
“I saw it a few days ago. Now then, Lee Yeji. Where is the General’s Secretion Pouch?”
“Between my breasts?”
“That thing repels weak zombies but attracts strong ones. Looking at you…”
“What?! What about me!”
“You’ve just been carrying it around thinking it only chased away weak zombies. Not because you wanted to get stronger.”
“…”
I had a lot I wanted to say, but I held it in. The author slowly closed his eyes and fell asleep with shallow breaths. Seeing that made my head throb, so I pressed a hand to my forehead.
From the circumstances, I could piece together what had happened. Everything fit together too perfectly. The author had been looking for the person who entered his novel. He found me, saved me once, and then started observing. Otherwise he couldn’t have known I killed the General. Up to that point, it made sense.
The author had been attacked by a group of hunters drawn by the General’s secretion. In that injured state, he came to the big-box store looking for food. Then he saw me the day I killed the Spider King, threatened me with the gun, and acted tough. It was a two-birds-one-stone plan—get food and a safe place to rest. But then he got into a dogfight with me, things went sideways, and the aftermath left him bedridden like this.
Honestly, it was partly my fault, but I still felt wronged. I decided I’d rip into him properly once he regained consciousness and focused on nursing him for now. Unfortunately, I didn’t know much about nursing, so there wasn’t a lot I could do. The most I could manage was rewetting the towel on his forehead or changing the gauze on his side.
Still, his ability was clearly working; after a few hours, the bite and scratch wounds had mostly healed. The side wound was severe, though—it didn’t seem to be recovering well. The insane fever wasn’t helping either. Every time he woke up I fed him fever reducers and food, but I was still anxious.
The protagonist’s ability was more useful in combat. When injured or bleeding, it released more adrenaline, letting him fight like a berserker. Naturally, his regeneration was weaker than mine. Unlike me, who healed like I’d never been hurt as long as I had food and medicine, he scarred and recovered slowly. On top of that, the protagonist’s ability doubled in power while hunting zombies. Unlike me, who’d wasted two weeks holed up, or the author who had little combat experience, he had grown through real fights.
Looking at this idiot’s wounds, it seemed his fighting style was exactly like mine—blocking with his body when things went wrong and beating the enemy to death.
“…Fuck.”
I was about to place the towel back on the author’s forehead when I realized something. We were out of food and medicine. There was still a little bottled water left, but not much. In other words, I had to go outside. But it was already 9 p.m., and I’d used up a lot of stamina nursing him. Still, I had no choice.
If it were me, I’d have recovered by now. But there was no guarantee the author would fully heal even after all this care. If I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life enjoying a happy zombie apocalypse, I had to move now.
I hurriedly grabbed Beopbong and taped a flashlight to my arm. My targets were the other pharmacy and the big-box store. I’d gather food, medicine, and water there and return to the PC Bang. Honestly, I didn’t want to go out, but if the author suddenly died while I was gone, it would be a total disaster.
After taking several deep breaths, I shouted at the top of my lungs.
“Ultimate Lee Yeji, deploying!”
Then I opened the door and stepped outside.