Chapter 3

The next morning, the guards and chef were already awake before I was.

I had barely finished washing up when I saw them standing in the main hall waiting for me.

Judging from the looks on their faces, they had already seen what was happening outside.

I turned toward the street beyond the one-way glass just in time to see a swarm of grotesque zombies roaming the roads.

Some still vaguely resembled humans, but most were drenched in blood, their faces twisted into horrifying shapes. A few were so badly mutilated that their organs spilled out as they ran.

Even these hardened men, veterans who had seen more than enough bloodshed in their lives, had gone pale.

At that point, I didn’t need to say another word. They willingly chose to stay and work as my security team.

The chef practically fled into the kitchen to prepare breakfast. With his thin frame, it felt like he’d be torn apart the second he stepped outside.

A few minutes later, he placed a freshly prepared meal in front of me and lifted the silver cover.

The rich aroma of steak instantly filled the room.

Before I could even take a bite, the sharp chime of the security keypad suddenly echoed throughout the entire estate.

That had been one of the intentional design features.

Anyone pressing the keypad would obviously be an outsider.

The alarm served as a warning for whoever was outside to leave immediately.

And if they refused to go, the piercing sound would eventually attract zombies.

A woman’s voice soon came through the intercom loud and clear.

She was sobbing hysterically, begging me to let her in.

Behind her, a horde of zombies slowly closed in.

Faced with her desperate cries, I simply remained seated and continued cutting into the steak I hadn’t even gotten to taste yet.

Not only did I keep eating, I even gestured for the guards and the chef to sit down as well. There was enough food for everyone.

The guards were trained professionals. They understood that in a world like this, survival came first.

Only the chef still carried the kind of compassion that no longer belonged in the apocalypse. He kept glancing anxiously toward the door.

“You want to let her in?” I asked.

The hesitation in his eyes gave him away immediately.

I didn’t force my opinion on him.

Instead, I calmly asked, “Forget whether she’s a good person or not. I can let her inside if you want. But our food supply is limited. Are you willing to give her your portion?”

Every resource in this estate belonged to me. The chef had sacrificed nothing, which was why he could afford to be generous with someone else’s supplies.

But the moment my question touched his own interests, he was forced to think about whether my refusal actually made sense.

Cruel as it was, that was simply how survival worked in the apocalypse.

While we were talking, the girl’s screams were abruptly swallowed by the zombie horde surging toward her.

The monitor turned into a blur of red.

All of us sat there silently, watching her body get dragged apart and devoured piece by piece.

We knew we should look away.

But none of us could.

Because only by being terrified enough could we find the will to keep surviving.

After devouring the girl, the zombies still didn’t seem satisfied.

They began slamming themselves against the gate, the heavy steel doors rattling violently with every impact.

But my gate was built from the same reinforced alloy used in tank armor.

It could withstand bullets without a problem, so there was no way I’d worry about zombies breaking through.

After all that crashing and clawing, they hadn’t even left a scratch on it.

What truly sent a chill down my spine was what happened next.

Some of the zombies seemed to realize forcing the gate open was pointless. Instead, they began trying to climb the walls.

Their sharp nails dug deep into the concrete as they slowly dragged themselves upward, managing to scale nearly fifteen feet.

Thankfully, I had already stationed guards along the walls. With their marksmanship, there was no chance any zombie would make it over alive.

Even so, unease settled heavily in my chest.

Did this mean some of the zombies weren’t mindless corpses after all?

Did they still retain the ability to think?