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The neighborhood representatives, including the uncle, had a brief discussion. They decided to negotiate with the apartment folks. At the very least, they wanted to get back the supplies those guys took from the neighborhood.

“Yeah, we can’t go back empty-handed.”

“If things go south, we can just fight, right? We’re not outnumbered.”

Their eyes glowed with greed, anxiety, and a thirst for survival. Firmly gripping their weapons, they confidently stepped out of the management office.

I, on the other hand, tried to blend in like a bystander, quietly trailing behind the group.

Once outside the management office, I saw a crowd gathered under the streetlights. The apartment raiders seemed uneasy, fidgeting and waving their weapons around, occasionally glancing at the uncle.

Peeking out from behind, I noticed the apartment people surrounding us.

“…There’s a lot of them.”

The people whose homes, territory, and apartment complex had been invaded were visibly agitated. Their eyes were filled with a fierce determination, and some of their weapons were already stained with blood.

We were already at a disadvantage.

As the uncle walked forward, the neighborhood folks quickly made way for him. The head of the women’s association and the office manager narrowed their eyes sharply.

“Finally, you show up, you thieves!”

The uncle tried to say something, but the office manager shoved someone forward.

It was the arsonist group that had gone to create smoke. They had all been caught. Some were beaten so badly their faces were swollen, others were bleeding profusely from head wounds, and some were unconscious like corpses.

The head of the women’s association, using the captured arsonists as leverage, kicked an oil barrel. Her voice was sharp.

“Were you planning to set the apartment on fire? Trying to kill us all? Even the kids? Huh? Say something!”

“What are you talking about, you crazy people! You attacked our neighborhood first! You killed people and now you’re spouting nonsense!”

It was all lies.

Even if they were planning arson, it was just to create smoke with steel barrels, and the other side knew that. Conversely, the apartment people had never directly harmed anyone from the neighborhood.

It was a battle of wills, and in a way, it felt like the prelude to combat. In old wars, didn’t they start with verbal battles first? Claiming their leader was a villain, accusing them of wrongdoing. A way to justify their cause.

And just like there’s no romance in war, their verbal spat was becoming increasingly childish.

The head of the women’s association and the uncle continued their ugly argument.

“You only targeted empty houses! I knew it from the last time you made a fuss! All you do is lie!”

“Hey! Are you making things up now? You’re just as cunning as the spies you planted!”

Personal attacks. They were tearing each other down at a fundamental level.

“Spies? Voluntary defectors? Hey, neighborhood folks. There are plenty of empty houses. Why not come over to our side? Might as well live in a safe place. When else would you get a chance to live in such a nice apartment?”

“Nice apartment? You guys look weak. Starving, huh? Why not join us instead? What’s so great about having more people? You just have to share more food.”

They even tried to shake the opposing side, enticing betrayal.

“So, are we fighting now? Come on! We have more people! We’ve surrounded you!”

“Yeah! Let’s fight! Getting beaten to death is the same either way!”

At times, they even brandished their weapons, acting as if they were about to fight.

“Let go! What are you doing! They came to set our apartment on fire! We have to fight!”

“Let go! Let go! You heartless apartment people!”

Even though no one intervened, they eventually backed off on their own. I, standing amidst the crowd, slapped my forehead.

‘This is so pathetic…’

This isn’t some elementary school fight. They looked like kids from a distance, awkwardly posturing and yelling for the other side to come at them. This is supposed to be a life-and-death survival competition. Is this really it?

If this is the group competition of the apocalypse, it should be a bloody massacre. Not this snake-like rhetoric, what is this?

I quickly scanned the people around me. The atmosphere was surprisingly okay. The tension had eased a lot thanks to the two’s embarrassing display.

Whispers reached my ears.

“Looks like they’re not going to fight.”

“It’s better if they don’t. No matter who wins, people will get hurt or die… We only came because of the threats.”

Voices relieved that a fight was being avoided.

I get it. With so many people clashing, it’s easy to get hurt, and in this world, getting hurt could mean death. But it still doesn’t sit right with me.

I glared at the people around me. Villa Street, the neighboring area, the apartment complex. Potential enemies living nearby. It’d be nice if their numbers just decreased a bit.

’30 minutes until the blackout?’

I turned on my phone to check the time and calmly assessed the situation again.

The plan seemed to have failed, but not really. The argument wasn’t going to end anytime soon, and everyone was outside now. That was what mattered.

***

Tick tock, time passed. I kicked the ground impatiently, waiting for darkness to fall. After circling the management office, it was just a boring wait.

The childish standoff had turned into a negotiation, and the tense atmosphere had dissipated, but a sharper confrontation was brewing among the representatives.

Returning the supplies stolen from the neighborhood.

“Don’t talk nonsense! When did we take that much food?”

“You didn’t take the food? You did!”

The resources the neighborhood wanted back were exaggerated. Since they were already at the negotiation table, they wanted to get as much as possible.

On the other hand, the apartment people were trying to give as little as possible.

People fiercely argued over food, a vital survival resource. Unlike the earlier childish spat, this was desperate. Hunger, desperation. They were even ready to wield their weapons.

“Let’s just fight! If we can’t get food, we’ll die anyway!”

“So you want us to starve to death? We’re already struggling to feed the apartment people—”

“Hey, grab him!”

People frantically grabbed and pulled. Tension flowed through the loosely gathered crowd.

‘Well done.’

Tap tap tap-

I wiggled my fingers and checked the time frequently. 8 PM. The time when the pastor held the service and when the blackout would occur. Only a few minutes left.

Darkness. Enough to induce chaos. Easy to hide identities.

Avoiding people who were slowly sitting down due to leg pain, I retreated to the back. The management office. Everyone was too focused on the representatives’ negotiation to care about the back.

My phone showed three minutes until the blackout. The time it takes to wait for cup noodles. A time filled with anticipation. I took a deep breath, smelling the faint chaos.

——!

The blackout arrived. A brief moment of panicked voices, but since it wasn’t the first blackout, the atmosphere remained calm.

“When did the time—”

“Now, the negotiation—”

No, no. You can’t negotiate. You have to fight.

I immediately pulled out a handgun and shot at the management office window I had scoped out earlier.

Bang-!

The gunshot. The sound of glass shattering. In an instant, silence fell over the dark world. Did the gunshot rupture eardrums? People’s breathing, the representatives’ conversation, all movement stopped.

I took a deep breath and screamed at the top of my lungs.

“Ahh! Gun! Someone shot! Run!”

At the same time, I spread my arms wide and pushed the people in front of me. A delayed scream erupted. It was an explosion. In a moment, chaos erupted in the darkness.

“Ahhh! We’re going to die!”

“Don’t stop me!”

“Ah! They’re swinging weapons!”

Confused screams. Footsteps that seemed to shake the ground. The sound of people pushing and falling. The sound of weapons being swung. The sound of people getting hit.

Someone’s phone fell from their hand, scattering chaotic light. The faces of panicked people flashed by like ghosts.

Of course, there were efforts to calm the situation.

The uncle and the head of the women’s association frantically shouted.

“What, who, could it be you?”

“No! Everyone, calm down! If this continues—”

“Stop! No, this is—”

And then, gunshots rang out again. Bang bang bang bang, rapid gunfire. It wasn’t me. Someone else.

‘Of course, I’m not the only one with a gun!’

I crouched down in fear. It was clear that someone who had attacked the police and gotten a gun was panicking and firing wildly.

Now, the situation was out of control. Darkness. Continuous gunfire. Screams echoing through the apartment complex. The sound of heavy breathing in my ears.

In such a crowded space, bodies would collide, and weapons would graze, making it impossible to stay sane.

‘Ugh, this is scary. I need to run.’

Trembling with fear, I moved in the opposite direction of the neighborhood people. Instead of running towards the surrounded apartment people, I stealthily entered the management office.

It was an escape. Throwing myself into that chaos would be dangerous. It was better to cross through the office and slip out the back where the encirclement was looser.

I slid open a window and climbed over the sill. Of course, there were people here too, but they were panicking, waving their phone lights around in confusion.

“Gun, what? What’s happening?”

“911, no, no.”

I quickly found a direction with fewer people and ran. People who spotted me reflexively grabbed their weapons, but I raised my hands in surrender and shouted.

“I surrender! Don’t shoot!”

“Hey, what’s going on over there—”

They reached out to grab me, but I twisted away and ran towards the villa. I slipped away effortlessly, walking with light steps.

Behind me, screams faintly echoed.

A world where people kill each other over a bit of food, a world where competition leads to death, a world without compromise or consideration. It was the apocalypse.

***

It was truly the apocalypse. A ruthless world. A world where if you show weakness, you’ll be torn apart.

Struggling to return to the villa, I couldn’t believe my ears. I stared blankly at Jeondohyeong and Park Yang-gun.

Jeondohyeong puffed out his chest proudly as if he had done something good, but then shrank back when he saw my expression. Park Yang-gun waved his hand as if to say there was nothing he could do.

“I couldn’t do what you asked. I was too busy defending the villa. Rumors spread that the streets were empty, and all sorts of thieves showed up.”

There were people like me who thought to take advantage of the empty streets. So they were busy defending our peaceful villa.

In fact, the corpse storage room on the second floor had more bodies.

Jeondohyeong avoided my gaze and muttered.

“I tried to do something about it, but somehow ended up fighting off thieves with the remaining people.”

He even fought off other thieves with the remaining elderly and children in Villa Street.

“No, no.”

I was at a loss for words. These aren’t looters. They’re vigilantes. They’re defending the streets.

After a long moment of just opening and closing my mouth, I nodded.

“That could happen.”

But there was a clash. The apartment people and the neighborhood people fought, so it was half a success. Protecting our resources was important too.

Then it happened.

Knock knock knock-

A heavy knocking sound. The uncle’s tired voice followed.

“Peace Villa youth. Did you make it out?”

“Yes. Are you hurt anywhere?”

I opened the door and greeted the uncle. He said he was going around checking on people’s safety, then suddenly bowed his head.

“I’m not hurt. But it seems like a lot of others are. I didn’t expect the apartment people to have guns. I didn’t expect them to shoot at us either… I was wrong.”

His voice was a mix of regret, determination, and bloodlust.

He raised his head and met my eyes. His eyes looked empty, like someone who had been through war, but also seemed to burn with a fierce light.

“I was too stupid. I thought your suggestion was too extreme. But it wasn’t.”

“Uh…”

Wasn’t it just politics? Was he really shaken by my suggestion?

I couldn’t find the words, but the uncle muttered as he looked down at a blood-stained iron pipe.

“Avoiding bloodshed, prioritizing negotiation. Thinking that uniting our voices was enough. I should have thought about killing.”

“I guess so.”

“Anyway, you made it out, so that’s good. If you’re alive, you can do better next time.”

With that, the uncle walked away weakly. He said he was going to check on the other Villa Street people.

I tilted my head, not quite understanding what he meant by doing better next time, but a few days later, I found evidence that the uncle had grown.

A corpse was hanging from a tree on Villa Street. A sign was pinned to the corpse’s chest, and it read:

Spy.

 

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