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Until now, I hadn’t managed resources systematically. I just sorted them by expiration date and type, estimating roughly how much was left and how much we used daily. But with famine approaching, I asked my criminal companions to check our resources.

Park Yang-gun, who worked as a supply elder at Hope Church; Sajihyeok, a fraudster familiar with numbers; and Jeondohyeong, skilled in managing supplies from camping experience. They checked Villa Street’s resources and returned with bad news.

With dark expressions, they sighed and sat before me. “We have enough resources for now,” Park Yang-gun said, emphasizing by gesturing with his fingers. “But we’re losing quite a bit.”

Sajihyeok added, “We’re using more than we’re earning. Our reserves are depleting. If this continues, we’ll run dry.”

We’re stuck in a loop: working a day to earn a day’s food, but not even managing that. Resources are slowly slipping away. I tapped the floor, lost in thought.

This is grim news. We need a shift in perspective. In this already harsh world, how long can people survive without food? Three weeks? That buys us time. If we slow consumption while working, we can last a month.

Two months is a long time. By then, winter will be here, and we might find opportunities to pillage. But Jeondohyeok shook his water bottle and said, “Water is the biggest issue.”

“Drought is coming,” I replied. “But water isn’t something we can stockpile. We rely on the river. If it dries up, we’re done.”

Food can be pillaged and stored, but water? A natural resource. Without it for three days, we’re dead. Sajihyeok laughed and made a strange comment: “If nature, the sky, and Earth were companies, they’d be called fraudsters for mismanagement.”

We ignored his nonsense and focused on solving the water problem. My criminal companions suggested ideas: “Maybe dig a well? There might be groundwater outside the city.” “Let’s move to the riverbank. Fishing could solve our food worries too.”

I closed my eyes, deep in thought. Could a drought really dry up the river and crack the fields? If it happens, what can we do? Even pillagers are powerless against natural disasters.

“Mountains might work,” someone said. “There are springs, though bugs are a problem.” “Mountains? If a fire breaks out, we’re dead. The river is better.”

Jeondohyeok and Park Yang-gun debated while Sajihyeok proposed cutting consumption: “Limit meals and water usage. Balance income and expenses.”

I shook my head immediately. “No. We’re pillagers, not savers. Live like there’s no tomorrow.”

Our organization thrives on a relaxed lifestyle. Restricting it would create instability. “But we can’t last long like this,” someone said.

I frowned and pressed my head. It’s disaster season. Problems are inevitable, and solving them isn’t easy, especially when pillaging isn’t the answer.

“Let’s wait a few more days. Moving isn’t easy,” I said. “Agreed. The river won’t run away,” they replied.

My companions left, and I lay back, staring at the ceiling. A sigh escaped me. “Why can’t we just pillage and live happily?”

Facing resources we can’t pillage, I’m just another survivor. “Should we really move?”

An idea struck me. I jumped up and paced the room. “Moving might be the answer.”

Find a water source close enough to attract people but not the Alliance. Then it hit me: why focus only on water? It’s the people following the water that matter. Water is just bait.

Even in drought, the sea never dries, and streams flow toward it. Survivors will move toward water, carrying resources. They’re perfect targets for pillaging.

I grinned and swung a hammer in the air. “Time to break the piggy bank.”

It’s time to wrap up business.

***

There are relatively wealthy people among us—our members. Thanks to us, they have fewer competitors, receive incentives, and work hard to find food. They’re my piggy bank, filled with small resources I can break open anytime.

Before proposing to kill them, I gathered my companions and explained, “The drought is serious. We need to move. I’m looking for a suitable location.”

They blinked and tilted their heads. As former wanderers, they didn’t seem opposed. I nodded respectfully. “Once we have candidates, we’ll decide together. But here’s the thing…”

I dragged out my words, and they focused. They sensed the main point. Their eyes showed trust, but I wasn’t sure. Deep down, I distrusted them. In survival mode, loyalty is fragile.

Still, I gauged their worn spirits and the fences I’d built in their minds, then laid it out: “Let’s wrap up business. Before moving, let’s kill the members and take their resources.”

They fell silent, gripping their rifles. After a few seconds, they calmly agreed. “Sure. It shouldn’t be hard.” “Easy. They’ll open the door if we say we’re here for reports. Should we start now?” “Just gather them under some pretext and kill them all.”

They accepted it more easily than I expected. Already fallen beyond the line, they even devised simple killing methods.

I looked around for dissenters or hidden agendas but found none. Only Sajihyeok and Jeondohyeong seemed regretful but didn’t oppose.

“This feels like our organization has a color now,” I thought. This is unity, the power of an organization. A color that would gradually dye any newcomer.

I smiled contentedly and addressed them: “If we gather them, some will notice and flee. Visit them one by one and kill them quietly. Use firearms if necessary. Gunfire will just announce our business.”

We had the members’ minimal trust—enough for a surprise attack. We split into groups of three and began patrolling our territory.

***

I couldn’t miss this enjoyable labor. I flipped through my notebook, reviewing the information I’d collected on our members’ locations. Some came from unsuspecting informants, others from moving their luggage, and some from thorough investigations.

As gunfire echoed in the streets, I arrived at a member’s base. Many lived in villas or houses for easy escape. Some stayed in shops swept by zombies, like this member.

A three-story shop. “The family lives here, right?” I asked, pocketing my notebook. Sajihyeok nodded. “Yes, our first member.”

A couple with a son and daughter—a family surviving intact in this apocalypse. I glanced at Sajihyeok. My companions didn’t want to work with him, so I had no choice but to bring him along. Park Yang-gun followed me, and Jeondohyeong was with another group.

“Are you okay with wrapping up business?” I asked. Sajihyeok chuckled. “I told you, the end of investment fraud is escape. This is familiar.”

Suddenly, he frowned. “But why do people avoid me? I’m good with a rifle now.” I looked away. I didn’t know if he was really good, but even if he was, he was terrible at physical tasks. I didn’t want to work with him either.

To change the subject, I called out, “Anyone here? We’re here for reports!”

No answer. I tilted my head and raised my voice again, but still, no response. No signs of life at all.

“Did they move? Let’s go in,” I said. “Sure.”

Inside the shop, after a thorough search, I let out a hollow laugh. “We missed them.”

Traces of a hasty escape: a little food, masks, and soap left in the warehouse. Scattered food, unfolded blankets, a fire pit—signs of life, but no people.

Park Yang-gun looked around and said, “They just fled.”

They were sharp. No wonder the whole family survived. Everyone who’s lasted this long has that level of skill.

“No wonder there’s so much gunfire,” I realized.

Now I understood the survivors’ thoughts. The River Area, with few informants, echoed with gunfire. Everyone was on edge, fleeing or fighting. Members informed each other, or they thought we were pillaging.

Even if we gathered them, the same would’ve happened. They’d have noticed and fled.

“Breaking the piggy bank requires a hammer,” I thought. “Why are they spitting out coins and running away?”

 

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