Day 40 of the zombie outbreak.

Hope is shaking.

***

Trials have come to the church. As the world has become harsher, strange events have started to occur one after another.

“Who would play such a wicked prank?”

Crosses hung in the church hallway have fallen or flipped over.

“The kids came to the door saying they were from the church, but suddenly attacked!”

“Our house was ransacked!”

Church members, beaten to the point of swollen faces by a juvenile delinquent group, complained of pain. It was as if the visitor log had been leaked.

Sometimes, an apocalyptic madman would burst in during worship.

Pushing a tightly bound zombie into the sanctuary, spraying red liquid from a water gun mixed with zombie blood.

“I heard there are miracles here! Prove it! Show me you’re the savior! Quickly! Defeat this zombie and virus!”

The madman, seeking antibodies and hope, was repelled, or rather, ‘repented,’ but the problems didn’t stop.

“Police. We heard there was illegal activity here…”

A few police officers arrived in a rush. The pastor calmly responded, but it was futile.

“We’ve followed all quarantine rules, and there’s been no criminal activity. Take a look.”

With society collapsing and government institutions failing, corruption among public officials became apparent.

The police, not moving an inch, smirked and spoke slyly.

“In these times, crime happens when we pick on it. Hey, pastor. Keep it moderate, okay? You know?”

The police rubbed their hands together.

The pastor, who had been moving his lips, tightly closed his mouth. Another elder, red-faced, got angry.

“Who do you think you are? Which police station are you from?”

“Even if you know, what can you do? Gratitude, investigation, discipline—none of it matters now.”

The police fiddled with their handguns and tasers. Some had complex expressions—greed, self-loathing, resignation, survival instincts, or a desperate desire for revenge.

There was no stopping the openly deranged police. The elders, realizing the reality too late, fell silent.

Finally, the pastor sighed.

“How much do you want? We don’t have much money. Even distributing masks and disinfectants is a struggle…”

“That’s exactly it. Just some quarantine supplies and a bit of stored food.”

It seems the city police have reached the final form of pillaging. Instead of increasingly meaningless money, they covet others’ hard-earned resources.

In the end, the church handed over a few boxes of masks, disinfectants, and ramen with short expiration dates.

“Here you go. Take it.”

“Good. We’ll be off now, pastor. If any trouble happens, it’s fine. We’ll cover it up.”

The police, perhaps thinking ahead, exchanged tangible resources for intangible benefits and left.

The pastor, with a shadow over his face, wiped his face a few times and looked at the elders. The emotions reflected in his eyes—whether doubt, fatigue, or faith—were unclear.

He seemed to carefully observe the elders, some venting their frustration, others worried.

The pastor spoke slowly.

“The world has fallen into corruption. Only those with faith will have a chance to survive. Naturally, we must prepare to protect our faith from those tainted by sin.”

“Ah, of course. The greater the trial, the more we must prove our faith.”

The elders quickly responded. Of course, I was among them. I only looked at the pastor and nodded faithfully.

“I will only follow the pastor’s guidance.”

The world is truly terrifying. Unhesitating criminals, madmen spraying zombie blood, police turning into gangs. Above all, distrust and betrayal. It’s a truly difficult time to live.

***

The meeting began. The pastor, six elders, and me, the safety manager. Among the eight, there were two traitors, and the pastor roughly understood the situation.

The pastor spoke from the podium.

“It seems someone is deliberately targeting the church. Perhaps there’s a traitor among us.”

No matter how you look at it, such a concentrated series of trials is unnatural, so it seems someone’s malice is at play. It was a good judgment and a subtle warning.

“That can’t be.”

“Are you saying there’s an unbeliever among us?”

The elders opened their eyes wide and looked around. While they couldn’t believe it, they seemed to be searching for someone suspicious.

The sound of a crack forming in the solid bond of unity. Doubt, distrust, wariness. Once rooted, these emotions split people like chiseling stone.

First, logical suspicion.

“Those who were attacked said they heard the church’s name… The visitor log! Someone leaked the visitor log!”

“Not many have access to that.”

“Did the police or that madman call someone?”

With insufficient clues to find the culprit, emotional suspicion followed.

“Elder Park. Didn’t you used to steal?”

“That was long ago. And even if I did steal, would I do something like this? I’m suspicious of you.”

The thief elder narrowed his eyes and shot arrows of suspicion in all directions.

“You badmouthed the pastor.”

“That was a long time ago—”

“Why can’t you, a preacher, get along with the head pastor? I clearly heard you badmouthing him. And you, elder. You’ve often shown a lack of faith in the pastor.”

“Where is this thief’s spawn talking nonsense—”

Human relationships, histories, conflicts I didn’t know about began to surface.

I felt goosebumps. It’s just two people. Me and the thief elder. Yet, the church is shaking.

‘It’s called chaos.’

As the dictionary says, it means to completely destroy a family’s property, to cause a noisy and bustling commotion, to metaphorically refer to plundering or looting others’ belongings.

With just two people causing chaos…

At that point, suspicious eyes turned to me.

“Deacon Kwon. Is it you?”

“We don’t even know what you used to do. Are you really the professor’s student? We haven’t even verified your education.”

It’s natural. In such situations, you’d suspect the newcomer first. Of course, I have no diploma to prove my education.

I quickly recalled the basics of psychological manipulation I learned from the professor’s broadcasts. Using logic, emotion, and authority to persuasively spread apocalyptic theories.

“Elders. I understand your suspicion. I’m a latecomer, after all. But why would I do such a thing? What would I gain?”

Appropriate logic, a voice filled with shared resentment.

“I only saw hope in the pastor and worked to save more people. Farming, church defense, disaster measures, I just…”

I finally closed my eyes and bowed my head to the pastor. Lacking authority, I left the judgment to the pastor.

“If the pastor finds me suspicious or uncomfortable, I will leave immediately. But please continue the methods I’ve left behind.”

Surely, they wouldn’t suddenly tell me to leave. Unless they have some kind of mind-reading technique.

The elders awkwardly spoke.

“No, Deacon Kwon. It’s not that we suspect you… Everyone is suspicious.”

But the pastor remained quiet. I clenched my sweaty palms. Was the pastor suspecting me?

Fortunately, the pastor postponed finding the culprit.

“Deacon Kwon Dain. Please lift your head. Elders, calm your emotions. We’ll solve this problem slowly.”

It’s done.

I lifted my head with hope shining in my eyes. The elders stopped arguing. They would wait for the pastor’s judgment day.

Of course, the pastor first sealed the conflict, warned the unknown culprit to deter their actions, and bought time to gather more clues, but it was a misjudgment.

‘You’re going to die today, how do you plan to find out?’

Now, the remaining task is simple.

Kill the pastor, weed out a few elders caught in suspicion and conflict, and take control of the reduced church.

And then, night fell.

***

Click—

I checked the handgun. A police handgun the church somehow obtained, a handgun borrowed from the thief elder. I loaded live ammunition instead of blanks.

Recalling the safety and shooting techniques, I slowly rose from my seat.

It’s the day of reckoning.

Whether the pastor is true hope or a future zombie, he dies today. Thump, thump, my heart slowly beat. It’s not my first time killing, but the opponent is formidable, so I’m nervous.

‘If he’s asleep, I won’t even need to use the gun.’

Step by step, I headed to the pastor’s office. Unfortunately, he seemed awake, as a white light peeked through the door crack.

I briefly aimed the gun at the door. If I knew where he was, I could shoot and kill him right away.

But then, a voice was heard. The pastor.

“Come in.”

Did he sense me? Or did he feel some sign?

After a moment of hesitation, I hid the gun in my hoodie pocket, conspicuously held the hammer, and slowly opened the door. Beyond the door, the pastor sitting behind the desk watched me intently.

In his hand, a handgun. On his body, police bulletproof armor.

“So, you’re the traitor.”

I swallowed and quickly shook my head. The opponent was already prepared for an attack.

“No, it’s not that. With recent events—”

“At this hour?”

The pastor chuckled. Indeed, it’s the dead of night. Not a time for counseling visits. I should have turned back upon seeing the light.

The pastor, finger on the trigger, aimed directly at me.

“If there’s a traitor, I thought they’d come for me. Whatever the intention, killing me ends the game.”

“…”

A sigh escaped from within.

The pastor also knew the basics of the pillager group. Betrayal and distrust are fundamental. He went further. If so, he anticipated the traitor’s actions and prepared.

Attacking the church? Killing the pastor would easily collapse it. Targeting the church’s resources? Killing the pastor would make it easier. Believing in that judgment, the pastor used himself as bait to wait for the enemy’s attack.

The pastor spoke.

“I won’t ask for reasons. Some people dislike Jesus, so a mere human like me can be attacked anytime. Still, I’m glad it’s you.”

“Because if an elder betrayed, they’d come with a gun?”

When I said it was fortunate I was the traitor, the pastor laughed. It felt like relief that we could communicate, or perhaps regret that someone like me was the culprit.

Anyway, the thief elder also betrayed, so he didn’t know I had a gun.

‘I need an opening to draw and shoot. Or disable the pastor’s gun. Should I make him let his guard down?’

My head spins rapidly. There’s not much time. The pastor could pull the trigger anytime. I watched the pastor’s hand and spoke.

“Pastor. Given the situation, I won’t hide it.”

“No. Hide it. The thoughts of an unbeliever—”

As those words reached me, as my arm twitched, I moved without thinking.

I hit the switch by the door with my elbow and threw my body outside the open door as if falling.

Then, a light gunshot and a voice were heard.

“You don’t need to know, do you?”

Darkness fell over the church. I clenched my teeth.

‘Did I get hit? Was it a blank? Or did I get hit but don’t feel it due to adrenaline?’

No, what’s important now isn’t my injury. The pastor, muttering, trying to locate me. I must deal with him now. Fortunately, I also have a gun.

‘The torso is protected by bulletproof armor. The head. I need to aim for the head with one shot.’

Holding my breath, I moved as quietly as possible. I leaned against the wall by the door.

“Running away? My arrow will intoxicate with blood, and my sword will swallow their flesh, the blood of the slain and captured, the heads of enemy leaders. You can’t escape.”

Bang! A heavy gunshot rang out. Was it a non-lethal round? Anyway, the bullet hit the floor by the door, and red sparks flew.

Thud, thud, the pastor’s footsteps approached. I held my breath, my hand drenched in cold sweat, roughly raised to the height of the pastor’s head. My finger on the trigger.

Thud—

As the pastor stepped outside.

A voice came from the end of the opposite hallway.

“Pastor! What’s happening?”

It was Jeondohyeong. He must have been startled by the gunshot and came running. I felt the pastor turning, and a spark flew from his fingertip as a bullet was fired.

“Ah! What! Who’s there! Pastor, are you okay? Don’t tell me it’s that madman again—”

“…Wasn’t it the traitor?”

Did he think the person I brought was also a traitor? It seems like a correct judgment.

I smirked and pulled the trigger. A spark flashed from the muzzle, grazing the back of the pastor’s head as he turned. In the momentary flash, I saw the back of the pastor’s head burst.

Thanks to my right arm, the senior member of the pillager group, the vicious electric thief’s excellent help. Me, the executor, the thief elder providing weapons, Jeondohyeong diverting attention—perfect cooperation.