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The rain had stopped, but the world remained dark. Thick clouds obscured the sun, casting a dull gray hue over everything. It felt as if a dark lens had tinted my vision, making it hard to see anything positively. No matter how much I wanted to look on the bright side, this world just wouldn’t let me.

Heat, downpours, blackouts. I busily roamed the rooftop of the villa building, checking the water tank. The tank, left open during the rain, was now filled to the brim. Whether it was from the rainwater or leftover reserves, I couldn’t tell. I knocked on the tank, *thunk thunk*, and stared at the bleach in my hand, pondering.

“How much should I add to disinfect this?”

According to Professor Kim’s notes, rainwater could be made drinkable by adding bleach—two drops per liter, or was it four? For a tank this size… I poured in an approximate amount, closed the lid, and slowly walked to the rooftop railing to survey the streets below.

The streets were in ruins. We had made them that way—to look as if no one lived here, as if there was nothing left to take. Shattered windows, scattered trash, and corpses. Even our farm building, where we’d relocated, was similarly wrecked.

“Hiding and staying low is the best strategy now. No need to look like we’re thriving. We need to blend in, avoid becoming targets.”

This world is slowly dying. It’s only right that we look like we’re dying too.

Staring at this scene, a strange thought crossed my mind. How long can I, or our Pillager Group, survive? We don’t create anything—we just kill, steal, and leave behind corpses. Maybe pillagers only have the upper hand in the early stages of the apocalypse. As time goes on, those with skills and productivity might have the advantage.

I chuckled dryly as I gazed down at the streets.

“Pointless worries.”

Summer’s the immediate problem, why worry about the distant future? And if we ever run short, we’ll just pillage. Resources, knowledge, people—anything we need.

With that, I headed back to the farm villa, bleach in hand.

—

The farm villa had undergone a makeover in just a few days. I opened the front door and stepped inside.

“I’ve disinfected the water tank.”

“You’re back? We’ve gathered all the remaining resources.”

The other pillager companions were sitting on the floor, sorting through various odds and ends—batteries, power banks, wires, phones, keys, lighters—stuff that had been pushed aside in favor of food and water.

I groaned as I sat down, and the other criminals rubbed their shoulders and thighs. The villa had no elevator, and hauling sacks of rice, kimchi, and bottled water up and down the stairs had taken its toll. Body aches and muscle soreness.

“I can’t do heavy lifting anymore. Age doesn’t lie.”

Park Yang-gun suddenly lay down, groaning like he was genuinely in pain.

Sajihyeok chimed in with a rare appropriate comment.

“You’ve been working harder than me.”

“No, I can’t. I can’t. How am I supposed to do the dishes, the laundry? There’s no hot water.”

I smiled bitterly.

The power was out. All the conveniences of modern life had stopped—boilers, washing machines, TVs, refrigerators, air conditioners, fans, vacuum cleaners, lights… Our standard of living had regressed to the Middle Ages overnight.

We collected rainwater, fanned ourselves in the heat, hand-washed clothes, and couldn’t even take a hot shower.

I glanced at Jeondohyeong. Even if a shred of goodness remained in him, it was buried under layers of irreversible crimes. He was a thief who stole electricity from public facilities when society was still intact. Could this electric thief adapt to a life without electricity?

“You okay? No electricity, you know.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. It’s fine. Feels like camping, kinda nice.”

Jeondohyeong, who had been diligently packing batteries into a box, looked up. Huh? He seemed genuinely fine.

I pondered, trying to guess his mindset. An electric thief. Maybe stealing electricity is more fun when there’s none to begin with? Guess old habits die hard.

As I was thinking, Sajihyeok suddenly spoke up.

“So, what now? We can’t farm anymore, right?”

All eyes turned to me. I pretended to think, then slowly leaned against the wall.

“Any ideas? Resources we’re lacking, ways to get them, how to deal with the blackout?”

I’d already made up my mind. We’d lay low for now. But I needed to signal that I was open to their input.

Jeondohyeong leaned toward me and said, “Do we even need to do more? We’ve stockpiled enough food and water. We could survive a month just on lettuce.”

“Hmm…”

I fiddled with my mask, deliberately looking troubled. If I agreed too easily, they’d feel less accomplished. I needed to play hard to get, then agree for maximum effect.

I glanced at Park Yang-gun, who waved his hand dismissively. “I can’t do anything. No reason to move.”

“But shouldn’t we prepare for pillagers? Even if we’ve made it look like a ruin, some might still come to check.”

Park Yang-gun and Sajihyeok’s opinions. I closed my eyes, then slowly opened them.

“No need to do more outside. We’re not short on resources, and there’s no reason to risk injury. Let’s just prepare for pillagers and scavengers.”

“Sounds good.”

Jeondohyeong nodded quickly, relief evident on his face. His eyes gleamed with an unreadable light.

I stood up with a grin.

“We’ve got plenty of rice and kimchi left. Let’s use that. If we smear zombie blood or saliva on them and leave them in a few houses, scavengers will eat it and turn into zombies.”

Too bad we don’t have Botox or pufferfish poison.

The criminal companions stared at me blankly, then slowly nodded. They didn’t seem too bothered by the idea of defensive traps.

“Jeondohyeong, do you know how to set traps? You’ve been camping, right? You must know how to catch animals.”

“No, that’s not camping.”

He looked genuinely offended, as if I’d insulted camping itself.

One by one, they got up, but Park Yang-gun stayed lying down, rolling his eyes. He pretended to get up, groaning. He really didn’t want to work.

I pressed his shoulder, making him lie back down.

“Stay and rest.”

“But I should help.”

It was a blatant lie, but he needed the rest. I’d already made an excuse for him.

“You’ll get heatstroke if you work in this heat with all those clothes on. Just rest.”

With the power out, there was no way to regulate body temperature. No air conditioning, no ice packs from the fridge.

The heat had become an extreme, unavoidable danger.

Park Yang-gun propped himself up slightly and pointed to the remaining batteries.

“I’ll sort these out. Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

And with that, we headed out into the streets.

—

We killed a wandering zombie and quickly smeared its blood and saliva on our bait—blood on the kimchi, saliva on the rice. We knew food was precious, so we used spoiled kimchi and rain-soaked rice that was inedible anyway.

We hid the bait in refrigerators and corners of houses. That was it.

We chatted cautiously as we moved between villas. If there were no zombies, we used the front doors; if zombies were around, we moved from rooftop to rooftop.

Sajihyeok was drenched in sweat, looking like he was about to die.

“Ugh, no AC, I’m really gonna die. Can’t even have ice.”

“Right?”

I fell into thought. There were still areas with power. Maybe we could locate survivors by the sound of air conditioner units? Or lure them out by offering ice.

Jeondohyeong waved a handheld fan. It had some robot stickers on it, probably a kid’s.

“At least we can use portable fans with power banks and car batteries. That’s something.”

I glanced at him. The suspicion Uncle had planted was affecting me too. The idea that he could always return to the Hope Community.

No matter how much I influenced his psyche, this guy had a fallback. He’d even suggested going back to the Hope Community, where his girlfriend was.

“How’s the Hope Community? Is your girlfriend still alive?”

“Huh?”

Jeondohyeong, who was about to cross a ladder between rooftops, froze. He looked at me with suspicion and a faint glint of madness.

“Why do you ask?”

“Our area’s power is out. If theirs is fine, you could go charge some power banks or something. Can’t even turn on our phones. We need to save fuel for winter.”

Jeondohyeong suddenly smirked.

“They’ve got power. But really, aren’t you going back? The Evangelical Elder and Administrative Elder said they’d welcome Deacon Kwon.”

Still trusts me, huh? Or maybe he just wants Professor Kim’s knowledge. Useful in a blackout, monsoon, and typhoon situation.

I thought for a moment, then casually said, “If we go back, will the Hope Community stay intact?”

The pastor’s dead church, the scaled-down Hope Community, the massacred Villa Street.

Jeondohyeong shuddered as if he’d realized something.

“Right. I’m an idiot. Let’s just keep holding out here.”

There’s no reason to go back. They’ll face blackouts too, and living in a group makes them vulnerable to waterborne diseases. Individually, we’ve got more resources.

Just then, Sajihyeok, who had been standing idly, suddenly pointed beyond the rooftop.

“There’s a motorcycle coming.”

“How many?”

“Just one. What is it?”

Pillagers? I quickly leaned over the railing and spotted a familiar figure. The Delivery Vigilante Group. Rider Zero.

Zipping past zombies and obstacles, Rider Zero threw something like a letter at the front door and shouted, “Mail’s here!”

 

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