Chapter 68: Any Objections?

“The Hanchang Development thugs are doing the same thing today. The apartment people too—still busy tearing each other apart. And the Middle Village old guys are... oh? Are they finally heading out to hunt zombies?”

Yoon Youngsu’s eyes gleamed behind his glasses.

Something had changed in the Middle Village area of Gahyeon-ri—

the part lined with the homes of the longtime local residents and old commercial buildings and storefronts, all under three stories and at least twenty years old, stretching along the road.

Around twenty men in their forties and fifties, dressed in somewhat thick long-sleeved tops and pants, crude armor, and armed with every kind of club and improvised weapon,

were moving slowly in groups of five or six.

“Maybe just like you said, boss, they’ll end up clashing with those gangster old-timers in a month or two? Then our EoktenZ punks... yeah, still no movement there.”

The reservoir site where Junho had carried out the slaughter, along with the mountain road leading toward it, was quiet.

Since he had a rough idea which direction the EoktenZ base was in, Yoon Youngsu first fixed the CCTV feed from the high-rise apartment safe house that way,

then clicked the mouse and brought up the main shelter-site feed on the primary monitor.

“Let’s see. What are our hired hand and Miss This and Miss That up to?”

Told by Junho to keep a close eye on the three people he had brought in today, Yoon Youngsu kicked his legs up on the desk out of habit and tore open a bag of potato chips.

Junho really did have good sense. He had stocked not just staple food, but huge amounts of snacks too.

Sure, there were only seven or eight kinds, but they were all bestselling mainstream Korean favorites, so just about anyone was bound to find at least one or two they liked.

“Ah, crap! Gotta take this first.”

He had just picked up a chip when he hurriedly reached for the pill case beside his desk.

High-end multivitamins containing the daily recommended amounts of zinc, selenium, and magnesium, plus acetylcysteine, probiotics, omega-3,

and lutein, which anyone who stared at monitors all the time absolutely needed.

Yoon Youngsu dumped five different supplement pills into his mouth at once and washed them down with Zero Coke.

“Mmm. Smells like health. Our shelter rules. Boss rules.”

Honestly, he was starting to think he might actually be healthier now than he had been before the apocalypse.

Though that was probably not something a guy who ate one or two bags of potato chips a day with cola should be thinking.

“Hm. The English-speaking ones are siblings. Judging by the accent... American South? Texas, maybe?”

Nibbling a potato chip like a hamster, Yoon Youngsu focused on watching and listening through the monitors and headset as the three newcomers talked and moved around.

“...Huh?”

Suddenly, he stopped chewing and pushed up his thick-framed glasses.

The three had just showered, changed into shelter-issued training clothes, and started raiding the fridge like starving animals, inhaling water, drinks, and whatever food they could get their hands on.

Among them, the two women—now cleaned up, their greasy hair and faces no longer buried under grime and exhaustion—

made Yoon Youngsu narrow his eyes hard.

“That’s weird. I seriously feel like I’ve definitely seen them somewhere before...”

The girl talking to her brother in a mix of English and Korean while stuffing frozen dumplings into both cheeks like a squirrel and cracking open a bottle of water—

and the big-eyed, cute-looking girl shoveling instant rice loaded with kimchi and tuna into her mouth—

both looked strangely familiar.

“Where have I seen them? Hm... hmmmmm...”

Still thinking, legs back up on the desk, gnawing on chips, Yoon Youngsu suddenly—

“...Ah! Ahhh!”

—threw down the potato chips, now more precious than ever in the outside world, and shot to his feet.

***

“What? Idols?”

“No way...”

At the dumbfounded looks on Junho and Junhyeok’s faces, Yoon Youngsu grinned and nodded.

“Yep. Psyche Flare. Five-member group. Three Korean members, one half-Korean/half-Japanese, and one dual Korean-American citizen. Their birthdays and body measurements are—”

“Don’t care about any of that. Anyway, those two are members?”

“Yes. The tall, slim one is Sunny Claire Park. Born in Dallas, Texas. The cute one is Saionji Yuna. Her father’s Korean, but she was born in Japan, and when they registered her family records they used her mother’s surname. In Korea they just call her Jo Yuna, following her dad’s name. But—pffft!”

“Why?”

When the brothers tilted their heads, Yoon Youngsu pointed between Sunny Claire Park and Saionji Yuna at the guy stuffing a whole young-radish kimchi chunk into his mouth by tilting his head back, and failed to hold back his laughter.

“This guy’s Sunny Claire Park’s real brother. Him too—kgh—he’s technically a male idol, okay? His stage name is Ducky. But his real name is—pffhah!—Park Deokcheol.”

“Hah.”

Even Junhyeok cracked a smile at the old-fashioned name that did not fit the guy’s clean, handsome face at all.

“Sunny Claire Park’s real name is Park Sunhee. So back in the States they were called Sunny and Ducky, and apparently they used those as stage names.”

Sunhee—or rather, Sunny Claire Park—was wiping kimchi juice off her brother’s mouth while scolding him. Park Deokcheol just beamed and shoveled in another giant spoonful of instant rice.

And Yuna, now apparently a little full, was no longer inhaling her tuna kimchi rice bowl like she had been before and was instead sitting neatly, sipping water.

As Junho stared at the three of them for a moment, something suddenly flashed through his mind.

“Then their real homes and families are all in the U.S. and Japan, right?”

“Yeah. That’s how it usually is with foreign idols or idols with foreign citizenship. They probably lived in group housing in Korea.”

“Then that means they’ve got nowhere to go. In a world like this, they probably don’t have anyone in Korea they can really rely on either.”

“Oh. Damn, you’re right.”

“Ah! Homeless ethnic-Korean foreign laborers? They might actually be perfect as our hired hand and our little maids.”

The way Yoon Youngsu put it was a bit much, but he was not wrong.

Even if they wanted to reunite with family, the fact that it was physically impossible meant the shelter was basically free from any risk that family might bring from the start.

There was a huge difference between having family in Seoul or the greater capital region during the apocalypse, while the shelter was in Namyangju—

and having family in another country you could not reach at all.

“But why are they even in Namyangju right now? Their agency or dorm can’t be anywhere near here.”

“Ah, so here’s the thing...”

Yoon Youngsu explained what he knew.

“...Psyche Flare debuted, what, three months ago? Four? Anyway, they’re total rookies. And Park D—pffht, Park Deokcheol’s group, Junix, has been around for a few years, but they’re basically one step from being a flop group. So they’d gone out to perform at the Firefly Festival in Ducheon-eup, Namyangju.”

“Hyung, were you into idol fandom too? You know a lot.”

“There were a ton of all-purpose stans on the community site I used to log into every day. Whenever a new idol debuted—boy group, girl group, whatever—there was this one user who’d always post pics, videos, profiles, the whole thing. That guy got really into Psyche Flare, and even the night before the world went to hell, he posted their schedule. That’s how I know.”

And since Ducheon-eup was also in Namyangju and not that far from Gahyeon-ri, it had stuck in his memory.

Anyway, that was why the successful K-pop groups had gone to flashy major events in Seoul—water festivals, water-gun festivals, all that—

while rookie group Psyche Flare and Junix, their same-agency seniors teetering on the edge of total flop status, had ended up performing at a rural township firefly festival.

“I’ve got videos and pics of Psyche Flare too. Wanna see? Their songs kinda suck, but they’ve got potential. Especially Sunny and Yuna’s figures, damn—”

“No.”

“Ah. Too bad.”

“Anyway, good work. Character and usefulness matter most, but the fact that they’re kids with nowhere to go is definitely a point in their favor. And if they’re idols, they’ve probably at least got decent baseline stamina.”

“Right. Don’t idols train like crazy all the time?”

Yoon Youngsu nodded at Junhyeok.

“Like maniacs. Eight to ten hours a day is basically standard.”

“Then fine. Keep watching them, and once we start questioning them tomorrow, we’ll probably get the picture.”

At Junho’s words, Yoon Youngsu asked with quiet anticipation,

“But boss. You’re still just gonna observe them for about a week first this time too, right?”

“No.”

“Ah!? Why not?”

“Mr. Choi Jeongwoo’s daughter and the Hayoon siblings were too young, and the doctor couple were people I intended to bring in from the start, so they were exceptions. These three go by the basic manual.”

“S-so then...?”

“Starting tomorrow, they get a full four-week test. No leniency. A to Z.”

“Ah... ahh...”

Yoon Youngsu looked deeply disappointed, but Junho had absolutely no reason to cut them any slack.

Idols or not, if they failed the test or did not have some special skill that could genuinely help the shelter,

he would either send them to Hanaareum Nursing Home, or give them some food and water and dump them off in some quiet rural village.

“Anyway, keep watching the Hanchang Development thugs’ area and the EoktenZ punks too. Especially EoktenZ. The moment you identify their base, tell me right away. They’re trash that needs to be wiped out as soon as possible.”

“Yes, sir.”

***

After finally washing properly and scrubbing off nearly two weeks of built-up grime, and after eating a real meal until they were full,

Park Deokcheol, Park Sunhee, and Jo Yuna fell asleep without any of them even saying it first.

The air conditioner was set to a cool ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) seventy-three degrees, and for the first time in what felt like forever, they no longer had to worry that zombies—or other people—might attack them.

The three of them slept straight through for over twenty hours and woke up the next morning.

“Ugh...”

The first one awake was Park Sunhee, who had slept on the double-size mattress with Jo Yuna.

She had eaten until she was ready to burst, passed out before she even had time to digest, and now her face was puffy.

Still rubbing at eyes that would barely open, she sluggishly climbed off the mattress.

Then she accidentally stepped on her brother Park Deokcheol’s side. He was sprawled out on the floor below it, dead asleep.

“Guhp!”

He jerked awake with a weird grunt.

His eyes were as swollen as hers, and in a rough morning voice he spoke toward the shape he assumed was his sister.

“You’re up? Bathroom?”

“Yeah... Ate too much yesterday. Stomach feels bad...”

“Okay. Close the door tight so it doesn’t sme—”

Park Deokcheol was in the middle of telling his sister to shut the bathroom door tight so the smell would not get out if she was going to take a dump—

when his voice slowly trailed off.

Because he had realized, a beat too late, that the answer he had just heard had not come from the figure in front of him, but from somewhere behind him.

“...Wah! Wh-wh-who the hell—?”

“The owner of this place. You guys weren’t waking up, so I came in and waited.”

Junho, sitting in one of the chairs at the table, jerked his chin expressionlessly at Park Sunhee, who was standing frozen half off the mattress like a statue.

“Go take care of it. The bathroom fan in here is strong, so it clears the smell out fast. And it’s fully soundproof too, so nothing gets outside.”

“Ah...”

Park Sunhee just wanted to die.

***

“Psyche Flare. A five-member idol group that debuted this June. You’re Sunny Claire Park, and she’s Saionji Yuna. Your Korean names are Park Sunhee and Jo Yuna, right?”

“Y-yes.”

Park Sunhee and Jo Yuna’s eyes widened.

How did this intelligent killing specialist know about nobodies like them, rookie idols?

The internet had gone out a long time ago. There should have been no way to look them up.

The two of them, having no idea that the shelter’s satellite internet service, Earthlink, had been running just fine for the past year, were badly shaken.

“And you are... Enix? Phoenix?”

At Junho’s question, Park Deokcheol answered in a flash.

“Junix. It’s a modernized band name based on the Latin word for June, and it reflects the noble and charismatic image of Jupiter, king of the gods—”

“I’m not remotely interested in any of that, so you can stop explaining.”

“...Yes.”

“Anyway, you’re an idol too, right? You two are siblings, and the two girls are same-age friends.”

“Yes.”

“That’s right.”

As the three nodded, Junho kept his cold tone.

“You probably already know this as the people involved, but those bastards yesterday were going to kill you. Or maybe just kill you, since you’re the guy, and as for you two...” He glanced at the girls. “Well, I don’t need to spell it out.”

“......!”

Park Sunhee and Jo Yuna’s shoulders trembled.

As horrible possibilities they did not even want to think about flashed through their minds, the two instinctively grabbed each other’s hands.

“Those fuckers yesterday were all punk trash from Namyangju, ex-school-bully types. Most of them had already graduated or dropped out long ago, and once the world turned into this, they ended up with the time of their lives. They’ve already killed dozens of people.”

“Gulp...”

With the sound of Park Deokcheol swallowing hard in the room, Junho went on.

“Anyway, I saved the three of you. Anybody object?”

“N-no.”

“No objections.”

“Good. Then you’ll have to pay the price for having your lives saved. Any objections?”

“Ah... no.”

“N-none.”

At the thought that the moment had finally come, Park Sunhee and Jo Yuna lowered their heads, trembling.

A man who knew they were active idols—what he would probably want as the “price” for saving their lives had to be that.

The two tightened their grip on each other’s hands, eyes filling with tears.

“Change clothes first.”

Thunk.

“......”

Sexy underwear?

Or maybe he was the kind of pervert who liked dressing girls up in bizarre cosplay?

Forcing back tears, Park Sunhee opened the eyes she had squeezed shut and reached for the clothes first on behalf of Jo Yuna, who was gentler and far more timid.

“...Huh?”

The dumb sound slipped out before she could stop it.

Because the clothes this intelligent killing specialist had put down in front of them were—

“Never seen work clothes before? There’s a lot to do, so get changed and come out.”

—the kind of dark brown work uniform some construction-site uncle might wear,

or something uncannily similar to what a North Korean soldier might have on.

And maybe because of everything that had just happened, the color somehow looked even more like literal shit-brown.