Chapter 20

“Oh, crap.”

All the hairs on Yohan’s body stood on end with tension. He hadn’t sensed any presence whatsoever. His perception was far sharper than that of ordinary people, and he was always on high alert, so he’d never let anyone approach this close to him without any defenses in place, no matter how stealthy they were.

Yohan whipped around, aiming his crossbow at the source of the voice. In that same instant, the man kicked his hand away. With a heavy thud of pain, the crossbow was sent flying into the air.

“What the hell? Coming at me out of nowhere.”

His attempt to subdue the man had failed. As Yohan moved his hand to his waist, the man’s foot came swinging again.

Whoosh—a loud slicing sound as his leg cut through the air. Yohan barely managed to dodge the kick by ducking his head.

Dodging the attack, Yohan struck low with a sweeping kick, hitting the man’s legs. The man staggered. Without missing a beat, Yohan lunged at him, pinning him down in a mount position. The man’s fist shot up and struck Yohan.

While Yohan’s strength momentarily slackened, the man kicked him away with both feet and rolled backward to put some distance between them. Yohan spat, and red blood followed.

“A wound.”

Seeing the blood, Yohan’s stress level skyrocketed.

Even if it wasn’t a severe injury, getting wounded was dangerous. And the presence of the man in front of him was an immediate threat. Here was someone who didn’t back down in a fight, even when facing an armed opponent—someone with combat skills.

Yohan ducked his head to avoid another punch. Next came a knee strike, which he blocked with both hands raised.

Thud! Yohan lifted his head and headbutted the man, slamming into his skull. The man’s face tilted back hard, and Yohan took the chance to throw a punch. But just then, the man hooked Yohan’s leg, causing him to lose his balance and stumble.

The man followed up with a kick. Yohan, who had fallen, took the hit and rolled. Thinking it was his chance, he rolled further away to put more distance between himself and the man.

The man, who was charging at him to close the distance, halted with both hands raised.

Click. Yohan had already pulled out his Glock and aimed it at the man.

“Whoa, whoa.”

“Move even an inch, and I’ll shoot.”

“Calm down, man. Why’d you suddenly attack like that? I just wanted to talk.”

The gun was loaded, and the distance was safe. Breathing steadily, Yohan kept his composure.

A conversation, sure. But ensuring safety first, with an initial subjugation before talking, was the correct order.

“You were the one who approached suspiciously first.”

“Oh, I apologize for that. It’s just a habit of mine to walk silently.”

The man grinned brightly. Yohan couldn’t fathom what was so funny between two people who were just trading blows.

“Anyway, if you shoot, it’s dangerous for both of us. The gangsters downstairs will hear it.”

Without a word, Yohan pulled a suppressor from his other pocket and screwed it onto the muzzle. The man’s face twisted in frustration.

“I’m just here to talk. No need to be so cold.”

“State your business.”

“I’ve been watching you since earlier. You’ve been combing this department store like crazy. You have something here you’re after, don’t you?”

“None of your concern.”

“Well, I have business here, too. Let’s cooperate.”

“Any companions?”

“Nope. I’ve always lived alone. So, what do you think? I’m a ‘Sweeper.’”

“Sweeper?”

Yohan, unsure of what “Sweeper” meant, asked again. It didn’t sound like a group name, and the guy didn’t look like a foreigner either. Reading Yohan’s confusion, the man replied.

“It’s a nickname.”

“Who gave you such a ridiculous nickname?”

“I did. Why?”

He must be insane. That’s a severe case of middle-school syndrome, Yohan thought, shaking his head in disbelief.

The man’s appearance didn’t suggest he was lying. His combat skills, reflexes, and guts to operate solo marked him as an A-grade survivor. While teaming up might prove useful, the man still radiated suspicion from every pore.

Keeping the gun aimed at the man’s torso, Yohan slowly moved toward his crossbow.

The man stood there, hands up, smiling brightly. Finally, Yohan grabbed his crossbow, lowered his gun, and pointed the crossbow’s sight at him.

“Anything else you need to say?”

“What?”

“I’ll take that as a no.”

Just as Yohan resolved to pull the crossbow’s trigger, the Sweeper turned and bolted toward the railing.

Instinctively, Yohan fired, but his aim was thrown off by the abrupt movement, and his first shot missed.

Yohan tracked the man’s movement as best he could and prepared his next shot. The sound of the crossbow firing and the arrow slicing through the air echoed in the space. He’d calculated the shot, factoring in typical human speed, but the man moved with a swiftness rivaling that of a mutated zombie. His nimble maneuvers caused the arrows to miss. Gripping the railing, the man jumped down.

Yohan’s eyes widened.

Missed? From this distance?

“Damn it! Shooting at me all of a sudden!”

From directly below, he heard the Sweeper’s loud yell.

“Were you seriously trying to kill me, you bastard!”

Yohan cursed under his breath. This wasn’t the attention he wanted, and now, with the man yelling that loudly, zombies and possibly other people in the department store would hear them both.

“An intruder! There’s an intruder with a gun on the third floor! In front of Olive Young on the third floor!”

The Sweeper’s voice echoed, loud and clear. In response, sounds of footsteps and commotion erupted from various directions. He’d called out the floor and location so precisely that the crowd’s movement intensified.

Muttering curses under his breath, Yohan dashed toward the emergency exit.

As he ran, Yohan paused, hearing footsteps below. He changed direction, running the opposite way, his breath coming in heavy bursts.

Zombies started emerging from the corners, worsening the situation. He had to fend them off and couldn’t move at full speed. He aimed for the escalator heading to the next floor down but abruptly stopped as he saw people ascending the opposite escalator. The escalator in front of him was also filling with people.

Yohan glanced down. From the third floor, the drop to the first floor was dizzying, and the floor below was already swarming with zombies who had gathered from the noise. Jumping to the second floor wasn’t an issue, but the zombies waiting below were. They’d bite before he could regain his balance.

Is fighting the only option?

As he considered it, he noticed guns among the opponents and hesitated. He’d fought against multiple opponents before, but that was when he could launch a surprise attack.

His mind raced. He could win, but he would inevitably get injured in a fight against such a large group.

Then, a thought surfaced—words he had once heard from Sang-mu:

“It would be great if a useful guy like you could change his mind, right? If you want, you could have all the women you want. Even the drugs, you know?”

If captured, he wouldn’t die. As long as he was alive, he could escape anytime. Fighting here was less likely to ensure his survival. A plan began to take shape in Yohan’s mind, and he slowly raised both hands.

Moments later, he was completely surrounded.

* * *

With a bang, the door swung open, and Yohan was thrown into a large room. His hands were bound behind his back, and his feet were tied as well.

His crossbow, gun, two knives, and even his waist pouch had been confiscated.

The damage was severe, and the situation had taken an unexpected turn. He hadn’t anticipated being thwarted by an A-grade survivor he couldn’t subdue.

“That bastard.”

It wasn’t that he had held back or spared the guy. He simply couldn’t kill him. If given the chance, he’d kill him without a second thought.

Yet, he hadn’t succeeded. Furthermore, the guy’s quick thinking had trapped him in a situation he couldn’t escape.

He hadn’t let his guard down for even a second, confident he was safe, yet he’d been caught in this ridiculous manner.

“Well, it’s done now,” he thought, pulling himself together. Being captured without resistance had been the right choice, as it spared him from being killed.

Perhaps because he had surrendered peacefully, his captors hadn’t blindfolded or gagged him. He’d memorized the route to this place.

His eyes scanned the room thoroughly. Nothing sharp could be used as a weapon. There were no windows, but thankfully, there was a ventilation duct on the ceiling.

Bang! The iron door opened again, and the Sweeper was tossed inside, also bound. Yohan let out a dry laugh. After all that trouble he’d caused, the Sweeper had been caught too. The Sweeper, noticing Yohan’s incredulous expression, grinned and greeted him.

“Hey, man! Long time no see, right?”

“Shut up, you damn bastard.”

“Oh, come on. No need to be so harsh. I got caught because of you, you know? What the hell was with that random attack?”

“There was no guarantee you weren’t with them.”

“Man, you’ve got a terrible sense of judgment. How could you mix up a guy as pure as me with those thugs?”

Now it was beyond disbelief, to the point where Yohan was at a loss for words. Before he could respond, the door opened again, and men dressed in black poured in. Among them was a man Yohan recognized—the Sang-mu he’d seen before.

‘He’s got a menacing look.’

This encounter had come sooner than expected. Even now, Yohan’s eyes darted, analyzing the situation.

Sang-mu dragged a chair over, sat down, and addressed the Sweeper.

“Oh, our cleaning friend. It’s been a while. Didn’t I tell you I’d kill you if you came back?”

“Yeah, well, if you’d returned my stuff when I asked nicely, I wouldn’t have come back, would I?”

Sang-mu laughed and then slapped the Sweeper across the face—a sharp, resonant slap that echoed through the room. The Sweeper spat out bloody saliva.

“This time, I’ll make sure we have some real fun. Look forward to it, friend. You’ll probably wish you were dead.”

Sang-mu grinned and pinched the Sweeper’s cheek before turning his chair to face Yohan. His unsettling eyes looked as if they might pop out. The glint of a gold tooth between his lips stirred Yohan’s disgust.

“And who are you, coming into our camp without permission?”

Yohan met his gaze, his eyes calm—neither hostile nor submissive.

“Just a drifter roaming the area. I came in to look for any food I could scavenge. I apologize for the unintentional intrusion.”

There was no need to beg for his life, but it also wouldn’t be wise to antagonize someone so clearly in control. Survival was always the priority. Yohan maintained a polite demeanor.

In these times, every leader coveted talented individuals. Yohan had been fully armed when captured, enough to pique curiosity. He was confident Sang-mu wouldn’t kill him right away without finding out more.

“For a drifter, you sure look clean.”

“I was lucky enough to find a nearby house to wash up in.”

“Heh, nice. In times like these, eh? It’s good to keep yourself presentable, isn’t it? Look how clean you are.”

Sang-mu exaggerated his approval of Yohan’s words. Then, in a flash, he changed, leaning in close with sharp, chilling eyes.

“I noticed you had a gun.”

Yohan swallowed dryly.

“Why didn’t you resist?”