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A day has passed. It’s the tail end of August, a season where autumn takes one step closer.

The rainy season seems to have ended, as the rain hasn’t been falling much, and the world has been moving busily. With the conflict between the Alliance and the military subsiding, the Alliance’s capabilities have started to fully manifest.

*Thud, thud, thud*—the sound of hammering, the shouts of busy people, and the whirring of drills echoed incessantly.

When I quietly looked up at the general hospital, I saw a building that could hardly be called a hospital anymore.

“Be careful with the solar panels! Don’t drop them! You know how hard they are to replace!”

On the rooftop, the Electric Nomad was busy installing solar generators. He was also setting up communication equipment, including a long antenna he must have scavenged from somewhere.

The inside of the building seemed similar. Through the open windows and beyond the entrance, I could see countless people shouting and running around busily.

Among them were many unfamiliar faces.

‘So this is the true power of a proper group.’

Based on safety, force, and resources, they were sucking in all sorts of experts like a black hole. As long as food was properly supplied, they seemed poised to grow endlessly.

As I watched, I saw police officers, firefighters, scavengers, and delivery riders coming and going, carrying loads of supplies.

“We raided an apartment. But the food condition is worse than expected.”

It seemed the police and firefighters, experts in breaking into places, had searched an apartment complex together. They had dark expressions and shook their heads.

“If you eat this, you could get sick. Even the canned food is swollen.”

“At least the kimchi is still intact, so that’s a relief.”

Mr. Ho, limping past, also let out a deep sigh.

“Is it the same for you? My harvest isn’t good either. I went to raid a few seed shops, but… the last typhoon and the rainy season washed everything away.”

He must have been running around trying to get seeds to operate an indoor farm. Naturally, the results weren’t good.

Most seed shops and pesticide stores were on the first floor, and the first floor was vulnerable to zombies and floods.

Now, even if you wanted to farm, it was hard to get seeds. The aftermath of the apocalypse was growing. Like dominoes, things were collapsing step by step, and quickly.

Suddenly, a question arose. I tapped my bulletproof helmet and sank into thought.

‘What is the government doing? What about other cities or countries? The zombies?’

It wouldn’t be strange to hear news about vaccine development soon. And what about the zombies, whose numbers had drastically decreased? Maybe they couldn’t withstand the heat, disease, and floods.

Still, human resilience is tenacious, so it didn’t seem like the zombies would suddenly disappear. Above all, the I-Virus was even more dangerous. Mutations, for example.

If it mutated into birds, cats, dogs, rats, insects, or fish, we’d be in trouble.

Around that time, the mercenaries and companions approached me. A faint red glint flickered in their eyes.

“Everyone’s here.”

“Yeah?”

I placed the bulletproof helmet on my head and slung the machine gun over my shoulder.

No matter how the world turns, my job remains the same. Pillaging.

***

“Did you feed your family well?”

“Yes. We had a full meal for the first time in a while.”

The mercenaries smiled proudly, waving their rifles mischievously. They had filled their stomachs with food from the apartment and laughed happily.

The mercenaries with families looked particularly bright. The lone survivor mercenaries also seemed similar, fiddling with their rifles and exuding confidence.

“Having a rifle definitely makes you feel safer.”

In any case, they moved with me and reaped the benefits. So I spoke casually about what to do next.

“The negotiations with the military are over. That means our job is done.”

For a moment, the mercenaries’ faces darkened, but then their eyes gleamed sharply as they looked at their weapons.

They probably thought that since the Alliance’s mission was over, they could survive by pillaging. A good sign.

One of the mercenaries with a family suddenly asked,

“So is this it? No joining the Alliance or anything?”

“No. You were mercenaries from the start. Payment is all you get.”

“But the payment…”

Their disappointment was evident. The Alliance had recruited them with food or access to hospitals and electricity as payment.

It was a temporary reward. They couldn’t keep working to survive. They couldn’t settle in a safe survivor zone either.

I casually threw out a suggestion.

“You can disband now… but would you consider working under me?”

“Working how?”

The mercenaries, each with different thoughts, looked up at me. I grinned and tapped the machine gun.

“What the military was doing.”

Pillaging.

“You said there’s a lot lacking, right? Not enough food, masks, or soap. Then we need to get it.”

I gauged the atmosphere. Naturally, no one showed any resistance. The seasoned pillagers among the companions looked bored, while the apocalypse survivor mercenaries alternated between looking at their guns and me, nodding slightly.

No one here had clean hands. Pillaging and crime were almost basic skills.

After all, these were people who had participated in killing soldiers.

Instead, they were interested in what they could gain.

“Is the distribution the same?”

“Of course. But if you contribute more, you’ll get more.”

Like finding addresses of survivors to raid or taking down enemies alone.

The mercenaries slowly agreed to my proposal.

“We’ll do it. Even with a gun, if you wander alone, you’ll get shot in the back.”

“So who are we targeting for pillaging?”

No one refused. I smiled proudly. Finally, I had expanded the group. When I tried to build it myself, it all fell apart, but now that I seized the opportunity, it worked out.

‘Luck really has to be on your side.’

I opened my mouth.

“People are everywhere. It’s not like we’ll run out of targets to pillage.”

***

During the rainy season, while holed up at home, I had a thought. Finding living people. A method I kept refining while occasionally talking to Park Yang-gun.

Park Yang-gun had once said that houses like these had people in them, so we should avoid them. In this world, that became a way to find survivors.

We armed ourselves with guns and left the hospital. Our destination was a street quite far from the Alliance’s survivor zone.

Park Yang-gun looked around and clicked his tongue.

“Doesn’t seem like there’s anyone here.”

The street was littered with fallen trees. Cars and the road were covered in dirt. Looking at the buildings on either side, many windows were broken.

I tilted my head. It felt similar to our villa street.

“Could someone be hiding here? Making it look like no one lives here?”

“No. Look at the entrance and the windows.”

Park Yang-gun pointed somewhere. Just the building entrance and broken windows. I couldn’t tell.

Park Yang-gun explained.

“The dirt on the ground is untouched. No footprints. There’s no one here. The windows too. If someone climbed over the window frame, there’d be traces. Look at the dust piled up there.”

“Is that so?”

Listening to him, it did seem that way.

I thought for a moment and carefully examined the windows. They were broken irregularly, and there were no obstacles installed to cover them.

“It’ll be hard to find anyone during the day.”

“Right.”

It seemed easier to find traces of people during meal times or at night.

The smell of cooking or food being prepared. Or lights illuminating the darkness. It wasn’t the right time to detect these things.

Then Jeondohyeong, complaining about the heat, spoke in an irritated voice.

“Do we really have to wander around looking for people? Can’t we just raid apartments?”

“Apartment?”

Not a bad idea. But since we’ve properly organized a pillager group today, I wanted to pillage as a commemoration. Honestly, rummaging through ruins makes us look like scavengers, which feels a bit off.

But maybe because of the heat, everyone looked exhausted.

Is this kind of pillaging inefficient? Just wasting energy and getting little in return?

‘The classic way is to set up like bandits or move with a clear target.’

I finally pointed to a nearby building.

“Let’s take a break from the heat and search inside for a bit.”

We moved into a multi-family house and searched every corner of the rooms. The harvest was almost nothing. The scattered mercenaries returned, laughing incredulously.

“It’s all been looted. Toilet paper, soap, detergent. Nothing’s left.”

“It’s just full of bugs and mold.”

I sighed, loosening the strap of my bulletproof helmet.

The city’s resources were running dry. Even the ruins were empty.

Six months since the zombie outbreak. What you had or prepared wasn’t enough to survive. You had to kill others or raid empty houses to survive.

Or produce something yourself, or pillage what others had.

Then, out of curiosity, I looked around at the mercenaries.

“By the way, do any of you know how to break into doors?”

The mercenaries looked at each other and shook their heads. But one mercenary awkwardly raised his hand.

“I don’t know how to break doors, but I’ve done something similar when I was really hungry. I used a rope to climb in.”

A dangerous move, but if you’re starving, you’ll do anything.

There must be people living on higher floors who’ve done this. Some buildings even have rappelling equipment, making it easier.

‘If that’s the case…’

Buildings with survivors are more likely to have been looted. No, wait. The looted items wouldn’t go anywhere. The survivors in the building would have taken them.

Like how I cleaned out the villa and monopolized the resources.

“Finding survivors is still the way to go.”

 

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