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The house where the hikers stayed. The firefighters took all the hikers’ bags and dumped them out, muttering.

“Even if we fight all day in the zombie zone, we can’t get this much food…”

“We’d have to complete more than ten requests to earn this much resources.”

Wild greens in a transparent plastic bag, portioned rice, smoked meat of an unknown animal, kimchi in a side dish container overflowing with broth, various canned foods.

Drops of blood fell on top of it. Fresh blood dripped from the firefighter’s bright red axe, still wet.

I clasped my hands together respectfully and looked at the firefighters. This can’t be real, right? They’re not turning into pillagers, are they? Aren’t they supposed to be the most respected public servants? People whose job is to save lives.

‘No, I trust the firefighters.’

I believe in their good intentions. If those people turn into pillagers, I’m in immediate danger.

But I felt their gaze. One of the firefighters glanced at me sideways. His eyes, peeking from under his helmet, brushed past my handgun.

It wasn’t a wary look. His eyes glinted with subtle greed, coveting my handgun and the resources I might have.

I swallowed hard. I slowly backed away toward the entrance, an awkward voice escaping my lips.

“Congratulations on the harvest, firefighters.”

“Harvest… It’s been a while since we could feed our families. But sir, where did you get that handgun? It’s hard to come by.”

A probing question. Am I wealthy enough to own a handgun? Do I have enough value to be worth pillaging? The firefighter’s crazed eyes gleamed as if calculating my worth.

This is really dangerous. I stopped walking and naturally aimed my handgun.

“I got lucky and found it on a corpse. Thanks to that, I’ve managed to survive by doing some banditry.”

“Banditry?”

“If you pillage, you make enemies, right? I just blocked roads and collected tolls to get by.”

When I implied I was a beggar, the firefighters fell silent. While packing the food into their bags, their eyes, which had been scrutinizing me, turned away.

‘Did they buy it?’

I had shown them enough context. The ruined streets, my shabby appearance, the fact that I didn’t negotiate for resources but simply handed over the hikers’ supplies.

I kept my mouth shut and observed the firefighters. They chuckled as they looked at the ample food, shook their axes, and ignored the corpses. Their voices whispered about pillaging.

“At this point, wouldn’t pillaging be better? As long as it’s not the police or those with bows, or those weird zombies, we can take anyone.”

“Let’s think about that slowly. Last time, we ignored the zombies and lost a lot of friends. We can’t let our guard down.”

As they spoke, they glanced at me. Seeing me armed with a handgun, they seemed wary of other survivors too.

But the firefighter who heard the story furrowed his brow and sighed.

“Ah, those zombies… What kind of zombies put up a defense like that…?”

In any case, the firefighters diligently packed the food and slowly began to retreat, carrying heavy bags.

“We’ll be going now. Take the lantern or that spear. We only need the food.”

The firefighter tapped me and walked away. In their place, blood and corpses remained. I leaned against the wall, relieved.

“Good thing we didn’t fight.”

I don’t know how those firefighters will change in the future, but for now, it’s over. That’s enough.

Suddenly, a shout came from outside the window. It was the president of the hiking club. Armed with a firearm, he screamed at the top of his lungs.

“This can’t be happening! You, you, you! Don’t even dream of doing business in the future! I’ll spread the word that you killed the client.”

I chuckled and muttered.

“Worry about your own life, not someone else’s livelihood.”

***

Time flies quickly. Watching, teasing, and tormenting the few hikers trapped in a house made each day pass in a flash.

They slowly withered away. The president of the hiking club fired his gun out the window in anger, and one hiker tried to escape from the fourth floor and fell to his death.

Sometimes they threw food or spears out the window, demanding negotiations. Please, just some water. Their voices cracked from thirst, and I pretended to give them water but sprayed bleach instead.

After about a week, there was no more sound or movement.

“Are they dead?”

Who knows? They might have used the water left in the toilet, recycled their urine, or killed each other to minimize consumption.

I pressed my ear to the closed front door, then shook my head and turned away. It’s too much trouble to open it and check.

As I stepped out of the villa, I saw Park Yang-gun and his family. His ex-wife and daughter stood silently, watching me. Park Yang-gun struggled to speak.

“Hey, Kim Da-in. I want to at least clean up the bodies.”

“No. They might still be alive. We need to keep them locked up a bit longer.”

Human life is as tenacious as weeds. Even after a week without water, the chances of them being alive are high. We need to keep them locked up for at least two more weeks to be safe.

Park Yang-gun’s ex-wife suddenly raised her voice.

“If they’re alive…!”

“If they’re alive?”

I blinked at her. Surely she doesn’t mean she wants to kill them herself out of resentment. But she’s not saying she wants to save them either. What does she mean?

I couldn’t figure out her true intentions and just blinked. Everyone fell silent, and soon Park Yang-gun scratched his head and stood in front of me, as if shielding his ex-wife.

“Even if they’re alive, they’re probably on the verge of death. Why can’t we?”

“They have a handgun too. If they have the strength to move a finger, they can shoot.”

“Right. We can’t.”

Park Yang-gun nodded as if he expected this. Then he turned and took his ex-wife’s hand.

“Let’s go back. It’s already over. Cleaning up the bodies isn’t that important. There are so many corpses littering the streets.”

“Is that something a person should say? …Ah. Right. You’ve already killed people too.”

His ex-wife, who had raised her head to say something, was dragged away listlessly. She seemed resigned, or perhaps thinking of something else.

I had a headache as I stared at their retreating figures. Park Yang-gun’s ex-wife and daughter. They were failed pillagers, but since they were Park Yang-gun’s family, they were somehow sticking together, but it wasn’t working.

‘What can I do with them?’

If I kill them, Park Yang-gun will be a problem. If I take them into the pillager group, they don’t fit.

Fortunately, my worries didn’t last long. The next day, the troublemakers were gone.

***

It’s a rainy morning. Waking up to the pleasant sound of rain, Park Yang-gun came to me, soaked, dripping water, clutching a crumpled letter.

“What’s the matter?”

“…”

Park Yang-gun entered my house, head bowed. I handed him a towel and looked him up and down. His complexion was dark, his clothes disheveled as if he had just woken up and gone outside.

Park Yang-gun beat his chest a few times with the hand holding the letter, then slumped down in the entrance.

“They’re gone.”

“Who? Where?”

“My wife and daughter. They left.”

I drew a few question marks in my head and hurried to the window to look at the building where the hikers were trapped. Did they cause trouble? Did they escape?

But a weak voice came from behind.

“That hiking club president is dead. I killed him. Just like you said, he was still alive.”

If he’s dead, that’s good. But I still don’t understand the situation. I opened my mouth in confusion.

“What exactly happened?”

“Early this morning.”

Park Yang-gun wiped his face with the towel. Whether it was tears or rainwater, it wiped away cleanly. With tired eyes, he muttered.

“My daughter and wife were moving around secretly. Rustling. They knew I was a thief, so why were they making so much noise?”

Seemingly in shock, Park Yang-gun rambled on.

“They left a letter and sneaked out. I followed them secretly. I wondered where they were going, and it was that house with the trapped hikers.”

So they really tried to free them. Park Yang-gun, with his thief’s instincts, noticed and stopped them in time. I sat across from Park Yang-gun and comforted him.

“You did well to stop them. If they had freed them, it would have been a hassle.”

“Did I? Did I do well?”

Park Yang-gun clenched the letter. Then, with a weak hand, he unfolded it. The writing was smudged from the rain. The paper was about to tear.

“I waited at the villa entrance, and my wife and daughter came down, supporting the hiking club president and the other hikers. So I killed them. Those people deserved to die. But… my family left.”

Huhu, a strange laugh escaped. It was hard to tell if he was crying, laughing, or sighing.

I pieced together the situation in my head. Park Yang-gun prevented an accident, but his family left after seeing the murder.

Park Yang-gun rambled on.

“My daughter was afraid of me. I tried to reach out to grab her, but my hand wouldn’t move.”

What should I say here? I tried to recall movies or conversations I’d seen and studied, but nothing appropriate came to mind.

So I kept my mouth shut. Silence is golden. Silence is the best.

“My wife is a good person, and my daughter is a good kid. It’s better for them to leave than to live with me. But in a world like this, can they survive? Huhu. Worrying is pointless. We can’t be together anyway.”

Park Yang-gun, sprawled like a wreck, repeated his monologue like a drunkard for a while, then slowly raised his head. A strange madness glinted in his eyes. Those eyes looked straight at me.

“Kim Da-in. Is there anywhere you want to steal? I need to move my body.”

In this rain? I reflexively wanted to object, but I held back. Instead, I stared at Park Yang-gun.

Park Yang-gun’s only conscience, his family, was gone. He had crossed a river he couldn’t return from. He had collapsed. In other words, all that was left in Park Yang-gun’s life was theft.

I forced a smile and nodded.

“There’s plenty of places to steal in this world.”

“Good, let’s go.”

As Park Yang-gun pushed himself up from the wall, a tearing sound was heard. The letter left by his family, soggy and torn, fell apart. Park Yang-gun stuffed the pieces into his pocket.

 

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