NOVEL NEXT Chapter 2
“Didn’t you say it wasn’t a good fit?”
“Yes, Elder.”
“Could you elaborate?”
“A common tale. A leader swayed by women, community members being marginalized in politics, increasing corruption…”
The story’s Hamsmill was gradually turning more into a puppy.
But perhaps Hamsmill might not dislike it.
Compared to meeting a tragic end with a cliff bungee jump, the life of a successful leader who even indulges in women seemed far better, didn’t it?
“A common story, I see. Do other communities often collapse this way?”
“When even those of mixed blood betray one another, what more can be said about those not of the same blood?”
“Indeed, the toughest times bring out the worst in humanity.”
With a gun tucked into his side and leaning on a cane, he moved forward steadily.
He appeared in good health, and his cheeks weren’t overly sunken.
“Sorry to bother you, Elder, but may I ask your name?”
“My name is Curtis Omen. And you?”
“I’m Hyunwoo Lee.”
“In that case, how should I address you?”
“Call me Xuan Woo.”
“Is that your name?”
“Your surname is Omen.”
“Yes.”
The flashlight was gently shone in front of Mr. Omen.
Since, in the game, elderly individuals often fell and got injured when their surroundings weren’t bright enough.
“Care for your own path. Your night vision seems good enough.”
“You’d be in big trouble if you fell at your age.”
“Do you even know how old I am?”
“You look like a war veteran, so you must be at least eighty, right?”
“I’m eighty-seven. I was thrown into Normandy at twenty-one.”
“Normandy?”
“You’ve heard of it?”
“…How on earth did you survive that?”
“Pure luck.”
A survivor even more extraordinary than imagination.
If he survived both war and nuclear war…
At least, he must mean safety when you’re with him.
Fortunately. I thought my empty bag was just plain bad luck.
Perhaps the survivor group, led by a war veteran, might…
“Ugh.”
It’s dazzling.
Have we arrived? Is the flashlight…
“Father, you said you’d be right back…”
“How would you know the trouble of dragging this old body to where you said?”
“And if you recall, I offered to come with you… Who’s beside you?”
“A lost soul who wandered into our path.”
“Even in these times, bringing strangers…”
“Compared to dragging around a brat like you, I thought this yellow monkey might serve better.”
“Yellow monkey?”
Sir, that’s harsh.
And yet, you just called your own child a brat…
“Since Father brought him, I don’t have much to say…”
“The bag is empty, but this skeletal guy might have some use.”
The light finally went out, revealing the faint orange glow of a bonfire ahead.
And the delicious aroma as well.
Is this the soup mentioned earlier?
“Your name?”
“I’m Hyunwoo Lee.”
“…Let’s go inside and talk. You wandered around without anything?”
“Technically, my supplies and weapons have depleted… Yes, I was without much.”
“Ho, quite the luck.”
“I’m not aware of anything better for survival than luck. Whatever.”
A wrinkled hand gently patted his back.
Above it was a scar resembling a burn.
“Come on. Old age makes every movement painful. And that brat of mine—”
“Father!”
Disappearing around the corner with a hearty laugh, the old man’s back barely escaped being chased.
Following the L-shaped corridor, a large steel door was seen leading into a room.
Thus, the survivors were not a group but a small family.
“You’re late! The soup I worked hard on turned into stew!”
“In such cases, you can take it off the fire or simply leave it near the flames. Didn’t I teach you that?”
“Do you know how a sooty pot could ruin my bag’s contents?”
The war veteran grandfather.
The father, who sported a handsome black beard.
And the daughter with lustrous black hair, possessing a perfect survival physique.
A typical tomboy, perhaps?
“Who’s that person over there?”
“An unlucky one.”
“Amazing, still alive.”
While smiling, they unpacked and sat.
Indeed, this family wasn’t ordinary.
From the WWII veteran grandfather, to the father whose belly grew a bit but had arms nearly as thick as mine.
Even the daughter had her gun on her thigh, and somewhere behind, among their supplies…
“Are all of you former military?”
“My son and daughter were in the same unit as me. Our pretty granddaughter was preparing for basic training. I tried my best to stop it, though.”
“Yet you all managed to survive well in this place.”
“So you managed to raise your daughter to be tough. She used to knock down even boys when she was little.”
“It’s in the blood.”
The guarded look softened somewhat.
But the expression of Mr. Omen, sitting across from me with a plastic basket, did not appear to be at ease.
There was dissatisfaction.
“Your mother would proudly say, ‘I’ve nailed it,’ when it came to daughter-guarding duties. But instead, you’re a father who lost her her mother—”
“You were a war hero, Father. What should I have done…”
“Both of you, stop!”
Hmm.
This family isn’t perfect.
“Take the soup. Grandfather, stop berating Father like this. He did his best.”
“—”
“If you say another word, I’ll pin all the beggar crimes on Grandfather. You understand.”
“So this is why I decided to bring along this yellow monkey.”
“Grandfather!”
“…All right, all right. Anyway.”
Carefully accepting the divided bowl, I watched the ladle scoop the chunky broth and red liquid splash.
The smell, the texture of the tender meat, the neatly placed canned packages in the corner—all was perfect. This was authentic tomato beef soup.
There were plenty of green beans, so it was quite flavorful. No complaints with this taste.
“Your name?”
“He said his name is Xuan Woo. The last name is Lee, the first name is Woo.”
“Please call me Xuan Woo.”
“Sarah Omen. You can just call me Sarah.”
“James Omen. Father will be addressed by his surname, so just James.”
“Sarah, James, and Mr. Omen.”
“Curtis is fine. Only three pairs of ears are twitching at the mention of Omen.”
The old man, who had emptied his bowl, was cleaning a shotgun with a towel.
That fluid motion meant… his shooting skill was at an advanced level.
I remembered it well.
That motion.
The sniper I entrusted with base defense cleaned the gun this way.
“In any case, nice to meet you. I guess Grandfather didn’t shoot you the moment he met you, deciding you were trustworthy.”
“Because you looked quite stupid. A face incapable of plotting any conspiracy… See, those eyes. The eyes that show no hint of understanding what we’re talking about.”
James coughed.
Sarah stared at me for a moment—then tilted her head.
“Originally stupid-looking, but good with unexpected hits from behind.”
“A guy who attempts to dismantle tripwires.”
“If you’re talking about that trap-baiting thing, anyone might try it once.”
“Makes them fall for it every time.”
Finishing the last spoonful, I glanced around again.
At least one proper firearm for each person. Holsters for backup weapons too.
No scarred bodies here, clothes were neat; they seemed rational.
The way they quickly turned to each other for casual conversation showed that too—
And they were appropriately cautious about me to an extent.
“Thank you, it was delicious.”
“Did you enjoy it?”
“Yes, thanks to you.”
Placing the bowl down, I came to a conclusion.
The group was small.
But it had to start with this community.
Lacking craftsmen, baggage carriers, chefs, or medical personnel was a bit of a letdown, but with two veteran soldiers and one other with military background, that’s three in total.
Not only could they breeze through the tutorial without any issue, in the initial settlement phase, they would efficiently drive away threats attracted by noise.
Not having someone to treat injuries was dangerous, but I couldn’t imagine a better start.
It would be reckless to move to another location without weapons.
“Excuse the intrusion, Sarah, James, and Curtis.”
“Hmm, speak. So, do you consider yourself cunning enough to plot conspiracies?”
“No, but… If possible, I’d like to take on any odd jobs and join you.”
The eyes of the three immediately turned to me.
The first to act was Curtis.
“See? I told you we needed a useful monkey.”
“No, Father—excuse me, Curtis. At least give him a reason.”
“We’re short on people for chores anyway. Misbehave, and we’ll break your ankle. Then the zombies will take care of the rest—”
“Last time, we wasted three of your ammo magazines. One we even left behind.”
“Last time?”
Hold on, what?
The “monkey” talk wasn’t a joke but serious!
“…Don’t be afraid. He was a guy leading us straight into a horde of zombies. So when he started making nonsense about sacrifices, we gave him up as a sacrifice.”
“Sacrifice?”
While religion could be one aspect of the game, the term sacrifice still didn’t sit well.
“Was that guy’s skin red, by any chance?”
“Just an ordinary person you’d see anywhere. Except for a bit of madness. Well, most people are mad these days anyway, right?”
“You’re still better than him—got it, I get it. No joking around.”
Glaring at Curtis, Sara sighed deeply, then began cleaning the dishes and spoke.
“You’ve got a weird fixation on skin. No, not like our grandfather’s type… Those who believed the old skin was unworthy of existence—”
“Damn it.”
“Did something…?”
“The Rebuilt Church.”
We quickly checked the doorway.
The dark corridor.
Occasional clinks of metal.
Squeaking mice behind the walls.
Are we still safe?
“You seem to know something?”
While loading a bullet into the shotgun he was cleaning, Curtis looked at me with a very serious expression.
Sarah and James too had their hands naturally hovering over their holsters.
“Would it be alright if we moved now? Immediately?”
I thought I was lucky, didn’t I? But no.
I didn’t know I’d end up joining a group of survivors marked by the accursed Rebuilt Church.
Right from the start, things were like this.