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The size of hope varies from person to person. Someone who hasn’t eaten for days hopes for even a single pack of ramen, while someone with plenty of food wishes for a more stable future.

In my case, my hope was incredibly trivial.

My survival, the maintenance of my pillager group, and, if I’m being generous, the continuation of Villa Street’s farming slaves.

Everything else was beyond my concern. Hopes tied to children, the birth of larger groups, the survival of more people.

“I really don’t like school.”

As I stepped out of the villa, I pouted my lips and saw a police officer and an elementary school student walking down the street.

The students, who had skipped labor to attend school, bowed their heads to the officer, who waved his handgun in response.

“Take care!”

“Yeah, see you tomorrow. …But the state of the street.”

The officer glanced uneasily at the crucified corpses hanging around. Corpses swarming with bugs, rotting corpses.

The kids’ mom, who had come to pick them up, quickly grabbed their hands and awkwardly explained.

“There’s a strange person in our neighborhood. It’s a bit creepy, right?”

“Yes, a little.”

Adults, as expected, aren’t pure. They don’t understand this sentiment.

The kids love the scarecrows I made so much. Breaking free from their mom’s grip, they rushed to the tied-up zombie, pulling out chocolate from their pockets and unwrapping it.

“Here, dummy. Eat.”

The zombie with dull eyes clattered its teeth, writhing and screaming at the kids.

“Kkkk!”

Why does it feel like it’s begging to be killed? The kids giggled, trying to shove the wrapper into the zombie’s mouth. A brilliant performance, making the zombie feel the harm of plastic waste, not just sea turtles.

But the mom urgently pulled the kids back.

“I told you not to get close to the zombie!”

“But it’s just a dummy!”

“No! Seriously, why is this even tied up here?”

At that point, I quietly approached the officer. He was staring at the zombie in disbelief, then noticed me and nodded.

“Hello.”

“Yes, hello. The street’s a bit grim, huh?”

“A bit? It’s quite unsightly, isn’t it?”

“I made it. I’m in charge of the strange things on Villa Street.”

The officer closed his mouth, unsure what to say, his eyes twitching. The mom also awkwardly bowed her head, hiding the kids behind her.

“It’s not meant in a bad way.”

“He’s a weird uncle!”

“Mom said if we don’t listen, he’ll take us and turn us into crosses!”

The kids pointed at me, and I waved back cheerfully.

Though it’s outrageous they skipped labor to go to school, they’re precious audiences who understand my sentiment. I could afford a little mercy.

The mom was already excluded from important matters anyway.

So I played along with the kids.

“Huh? That’s true. We’re short on small crosses. If you don’t listen to your mom, you’ll be next…”

“Waaah!”

Their faces turned as pale as the bitter masks they wore, tears streaming down.

I scratched my head. I only said a few words, why are they so scared? I didn’t even act convincingly or pull out my scarecrow-making tools.

Watching the mom practically drag the kids back into the villa, I turned to the officer.

“I set this up because arsonists and robbers keep showing up, but people aren’t reacting well. It’s creepy, but it works as a deterrent.”

“Ah. But, um, that corpse has ‘Prakti’ written on it.”

“That wasn’t me.”

The weaker someone is, the more they pretend to be strong. It’s an unavoidable defense mechanism, I explained as best I could.

Then, I got to the point.

“Do you think the school can keep running?”

“Well… What’s your name?”

“Dain.”

“Ah. The collaborator.”

My name’s on the collaborator list? That’s good. It’s great to be friends with the police who’ve become a gang.

The officer spoke honestly.

“Honestly, I don’t think it’ll last long. For now, there are people with enough food to keep it running, but… summer’s coming.”

At best, we’re looking at one season. A year, two years—there’s no capacity to plan long-term.

Summer, the season of impending disaster, was the immediate concern.

Monsoons and typhoons. The sewers won’t function properly, and the water pumps will stop. Floods might sweep through the streets.

The heat is also a problem. Heatwaves already kill more people than typhoons or floods. In a city with failing electrical systems, heatwaves become a terrifying disaster.

Not to mention mosquitoes, the approaching expiration dates of oil supplies, increasing blackout times, zombie waves—the future looked bleak.

‘…Is this really the time to worry about other things?’

I suddenly looked up at the sky. Schools, the military. It didn’t seem like the time to waste energy on such things.

‘It feels like everyone’s going to die no matter what I do.’

Wait, am I in danger too? I might end up holed up at home all summer, just waiting for the season to pass.

At that moment, the officer waved slightly.

“I’ll be going then.”

“Yes, take care.”

I fiddled with my mask, lost in thought. Was this my chance to get ahead?

While competitors focused on schools and vague future plans, I could prepare for summer like someone who might die tomorrow.

Or keep planting seeds of conflict in their minds for when disaster strikes.

***

Farming was progressing decently. Early-planted lettuce had already sprouted, with fresh green leaves shooting up.

People who hadn’t eaten fresh vegetables in a while swallowed their saliva, reaching out to the growing lettuce before reluctantly pulling back.

“I want to wrap it in pork belly with a bit of ssamjang and eat it with rice…”

“Meat. Ahhh. Stir-fried kimchi in pork belly fat.”

I also had saliva pooling in my mouth, but I kept my lips sealed and watched the crowd from a corner.

There was a sense of baseless optimism and hope. The hope that even in this state, we could survive. A kind of leisure. It wasn’t for nothing that people were running schools.

They’re still doing okay, so they’re ignoring the approaching poverty.

‘We need to sprint before summer hits.’

It’s time to floor the accelerator, risking everything. We need to stockpile survival supplies systematically, preparing to last through summer—two months at the shortest, three at the longest.

I spoke up in the indoor farm where labor had gathered.

“Everyone. This isn’t the time for this. We need to prepare for summer. Anyone want to go to the zombie-cleared marts or shops?”

“Marts? Didn’t the military already loot them? And shops are… too dangerous.”

The lack of enthusiasm was expected. Everyone’s stomachs were full. I rubbed my forehead and changed tactics.

Fine, I’ll prepare separately with my pillager group. Let’s give these people other tasks.

“How about we collect oil and sell it? There’s a market the military’s opening soon.”

Our expert thief, Park Yang-gun, has a pump for siphoning oil from cars.

Once the floods come, we’ll drain all the oil from submerged cars and trade it for survival supplies.

“We need to prepare.”

The paranoid uncle, already wary of summer, nodded readily. He’s started doubting not just people but the current environment, coming up with decent ideas.

“Blackouts, water shortages—they could come any time. We need to stockpile as many PET bottles or water containers as we can.”

He flipped through his notebook, listing supplies to stockpile: butane gas, bleach, candles, tape, etc.

With Villa Street’s direction roughly set, I pulled Jeondohyeong and Sajihyeok aside.

“You two, work with me.”

“Really? Go to the shops? There are so many zombies.”

“I don’t like such adventurous attempts.”

Typical of an electric thief and a conman, they weren’t keen on direct action.

But I shook my head.

“If the shops are too dangerous, we won’t go. But we have to hit the marts. Mosquito repellent is a must.”

“Mosquitoes…”

Honestly, I don’t know if the I-virus spreads through mosquitoes. But it’s worrying. What if a mosquito that bit a zombie bites me?

Isn’t that just anxiety? Every time I get bitten, I’d have to live in constant fear of infection.

Besides, now’s the only time to gather resources from lower floors. Once the floods come, everything will be swept away. Electronics, most items—everything will be ruined.

Eventually, Jeondohyeong and Sajihyeok, though hesitant, nodded slowly.

“Yeah, okay. It’s not a bad thing.”

“I’m not confident in physical tasks, but if you say so, I’ll do it.”

And so, we headed to the mart.

***

The mart was an empty building. Even the escaped zombies hadn’t returned. I realized why at the entrance.

Corpses. Countless corpses. No soldiers, but plenty of dead zombies. The inside was the same. The broken lights and eerie atmosphere made it feel sinister.

Even zombies wouldn’t want to live here.

Jeondohyeong shivered.

“I’ve never seen so many people dead before.”

Me neither. Carefully stepping over the zombies covering the floor, I examined the corpses.

Shining a flashlight on them, they looked like ordinary people. Zombies are just people infected with the virus, after all.

“Ugh. I can’t stay here long. Let’s grab the resources and get out.”

Sajihyeok tapped me, snapping me out of my thoughts. I quickly nodded.

We walked slowly through the silent mart. Signs of grenades, grotesque corpses, bullet-riddled snacks, traces of zombie habitation.

The military had taken most of the food, but there was still plenty left.

Then, we heard a sound.

A rustling noise. We all raised our weapons at once.

 

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