Chapter 160
<I want to live here.>
Less than a full day later, Olivia returned to see Jaeho. He nodded as if he’d expected this, then handed her a form and a thick booklet.
<Please sign here first. There’s no legal force behind it, but if a problem arises later, we’ll use this signature as grounds to partially restrict your freedom.>
At the “no legal force” part, Olivia looked at his amused smile as if he were a strange person.
<The bag by your chair is a supply kit provided to every new resident. If you need anything else, you can request it, but you probably won’t need anything until you finish training.>
<It feels like enlisting, not that I’ve ever enlisted.>
He laughed.
<Once you go to Cuisine, you’ll start with theory training. The squad leader in charge of combat training is still out, so combat training will be conducted all at once after he returns. Until then, you should master the theory training.>
He winked.
<That squad leader’s lessons are really strict.>
A very expressive person, Olivia thought.
She scribbled her signature and slung two duffel bags over her shoulders. She didn’t know what was inside, but they were heavy.
<Well then, good luck.>
<Thank you for your kindness, manager.>
She was clearly the one being helped, but everyone here was friendly.
Even the gatekeepers at the entrance to Cuisine were polite, as was the staff member guiding her inside.
Olivia parted with her mother at Cuisine. She couldn’t have her go through military training, so this was only natural.
<Olivia?>
<Go ahead, Mom. I’ll be right behind you.>
After a brief farewell, her mother was transferred to the island. There was some anxiety about sending her elderly mother alone to a strange place, but at this point, there was no turning back.
<We’ll take the best care of her, so don’t worry too much.>
The guide’s gentle reassurance helped ease her mind.
‘If I just do my part, I can repay the favor I’ve received.’
Contrary to her determination, Olivia was given a dreamlike rest for several days. Training was delayed, so she spent her time reading in the island library or exploring the island.
Then, by chance, she noticed a small cement building that didn’t match the atmosphere.
Inside, rows of bookshelves stood.
<This is…?>
<The memorial hall. It’s for honoring deceased residents. Normally, we’d put in ashes after cremation, but since most bodies can’t be recovered, we use objects they used in life.>
The shelves were filled with small items and wilted flowers. At the bottom of each section were names of the deceased in various languages, along with dates. Sometimes it was a ring, a watch, a notebook, even a kitchen utensil.
The most recent death had been about a month ago.
Olivia gently brushed her fingers over a spotless shelf.
Instead of immediate training, a patient silence hung in the air, as if waiting for someone.
Finally, after about a week, training began.
Six others, just as lost as she was, were seated in the training room. They seemed to be new survivors.
‘Were they waiting for these people?’
From what she’d overheard, these were survivors who’d just arrived yesterday. Olivia watched them curiously, but lost interest as soon as the instructor entered.
<Welcome to Camp Yohan. I’m Mei, in charge of theory training and testing. Since the training period is short, please pay close attention.>
Theory training felt like a college lecture. The instructor, a woman, taught in a calm, clear voice about zombies’ weaknesses, response methods, first aid, radio use—everything needed to survive in this world.
It was all so practical that, for the first time, Olivia felt she was truly learning something.
She learned how to handle firearms and cold weapons, what each team member’s duties were in combat, even the organization’s structure. It was a rewarding experience.
Even without staying here, just learning these things would boost survival rates.
After three days of training, they were given free time again.
All they were told was to review what they’d learned and especially to memorize the radio codes. Olivia studied hard during her break, not wanting to be a burden.
The other trainees seemed excited, thrilled at the prospect of a new life.
Some tried to make friends with Olivia, but she only responded politely.
No particular reason—she just felt this was a disciplined organization and wanted to stay tense until she’d adapted.
Roughly fifteen days after arriving at Cuisine, the training instructor finally appeared before them.
“Hey, rookies.”
This time, it was an elderly Asian man and a young white New Zealander. Olivia thought, “Do all the staff have translators?”
“Six of you. That’s a lot. I’m the leader of Search Team 4. Also your drill instructor.”
This was no ordinary old man. Olivia realized at a glance.
Despite his age, he led a combat squad, and though he smiled, his stern nature leaked through. He smirked at the cheerful new survivors. Only Olivia alone met his gaze with a tense expression.
‘Now’s not the time to be smiling.’
As she watched nervously, the instructor walked past, locking eyes with each one. After a quick round, he adjusted his cap.
“You’re in for an interesting experience. Don’t hold a grudge if you die. Whether you die here or out there, it’s the same.”
<Ha ha—>
“Laughing?”
The smiling survivor fell silent.
He didn’t even speak their language, but with one line, he froze the atmosphere.
The man who’d been giggling began hiccupping on the spot.
The old man got right in his face, glaring.
“Laugh all you want, rookie. You won’t have any reason to smile from now on. If you go crazy from exhaustion, you’ll just be crying instead.”
And so it began. From that moment, a merciless hellish training started.
“Don’t stop, you damn rookies! Even if zombies are chasing you, would you still jog like that?”
The first day was running. Nothing but running. They had to run endlessly around the cramped training ground. If anyone slowed or collapsed, the old man snatched them up before they hit the ground.
Then he’d bark without mercy. That day, he hooked his finger under a survivor’s chin.
“You crawled well. Think zombies will go easy on you because you’re a woman?”
<No, sir…>
“You, run thirty more minutes. If you slow down again, I’ll shave your head bald. And you two.”
<Y-yes!>
He grabbed the collars of two lagging men.
“You’re worse than that girl. At least she’s got guts. If you don’t get moving, I’ll rip off what’s between your legs myself.”
He booted the three of them back into the fray, then turned to the four trainees who were keeping up.
“Take a break.”
Then he approached Olivia, who was catching her breath.
“You did well, giant rookie.”
<Thank you, sir.>
“If you pick up the slack of those losers, I’ll feed you to the zombies. Got it?”
The old man grinned and folded his arms. After thirty minutes, he spoke with fake generosity.
“Alright. Just three more hours today, then you’re done. And clean up any vomit.”
It lasted nearly a month.
A month of pure physical training.
They ate three times as much as normal. Without it, they wouldn’t survive. The terrifying instructor chased them even to the cafeteria and forced food down the throats of anyone who tried to skip a meal.
If they vomited, he threatened to make them eat that, too. So everyone forced themselves to keep eating.
Olivia ate diligently but just got leaner—her weight went up, but all her fat vanished.
She’d exercised since childhood, so it wasn’t a big change, but survivors with more fat lost it rapidly.
‘If we mess up, he really will feed us to the zombies.’
She’d expected him to be tough, but his personality was beyond imagination. He led training from the front, so no excuses worked.
What was amazing: he carried a pistol at his belt and a big knife at his side. Even after training ended, he’d bark orders at survivors with an unfazed face.
On the third day, an incident occurred.
One survivor broke down, demanding to go back.
The old man approached, put a gun to his forehead, and growled at the trembling rookie.
‘Hey, rookie. Do you know what the form you signed said? Once training starts, there are only two ways out: you leave as a corpse, or you leave as a graduate. Want to go? Huh?’
He radiated real menace, slowly pulling the trigger. The man wet himself, but the old man forced him to finish the workout anyway.
‘He’s insane.’
That was her impression. She wondered if they really put all rookies through this, but when she saw the regular residents coming to train even harder, her doubts shattered. Compared to them, the rookies’ regimen was nothing.
“Don’t walk! You wretches!”
The training only got harder over time. Survivors’ faces turned pale.
Even Olivia wondered why she’d come here to suffer so much. Before one ache faded, another took its place.
‘Maybe dying would be easier…’
That’s how hard it was.
Their faces had lost all life. The initial hope and excitement were gone, replaced by dry, expressionless faces.
‘I can’t do this anymore.’
Just when everyone hit their limits, the old man grinned like a demon.
“From today, we’re doing combat skills for real situations. Shooting, close combat, formation tactics, communication, and radio codes. You all memorized the codes, right?”
No one answered. Olivia held back, saving her strength.
“Whatever. If you didn’t, you’ll keep at it until you do.”
“……”
“From now on, physical training is self-directed. Do it yourself if you need more.”
Survivors’ faces brightened. But heaven and hell are only a breath apart.
“But every time you fall behind or screw up, you’ll get two hours of extra physical training. So don’t annoy each other.”
Of course, in 30 days of training, there wasn’t a single day without extra drills.
—
“Now you’re finally making faces worth something.”
Two months of combat training? Fat chance.
Training lasted almost a hundred days because everyone was below standard.
But humans are adaptable. In the end, every trainee made it—no dropouts.
One Korean joked that after this, zombies were nothing and, with enough will, he could even take out Kim Jong-un.
Olivia later learned he’d been the head of North Korea, and laughed belatedly.
“Yeah, keep your eyes sharp like that. No one here will shoot you for glaring. But when a zombie shows up, you’d better not shut your eyes like an idiot.”
And today, after completing combat training, it was finally time for the real deal—field training.
“We’re going to clean up an area of Auckland that’s not secured yet. If you do well on this op, you’ll become official residents. Stay sharp and don’t die a useless death, rookies!”
The reply was thunderous.
They were assigned to Search Team 4. Unless directly ordered by the camp leader, Team 4’s job was to clean up supposedly safe zones and recover supplies.
Of course, “safe” didn’t mean zombie-free—just no other survivor groups or Mutants.
Forty-eight team members rode out in trucks.
The new team members wore stiff expressions, while their squad leader amped up the tension.
“Listen up. Don’t come back to your team after being bitten by a zombie. If you get bitten, take down as many as you can before you die. Don’t fear dying yourself—fear getting your teammates killed.”
The survival rate for rookie field training was said to be 95%. That meant almost everyone made it back alive.
Olivia caressed her issued rifle. After half a day of riding, the trucks stopped at the edge of a desolate city. Already, the scent of death hung in the air.
