Chapter 0 - Prologue

Edited by my lovely editor: manhwaharem

It was three months after the zombie outbreak. It was also the first day that Boyeon, who had been hiding in the bunker the entire time, stepped outside. For the first time since the disaster, Boyeon encountered another human being, who had promptly put a gun to her head. 

’I can't believe something like this is still alive…’ Surprise flitted through the mind of the man holding the gun. 

Boyeon’s appearance was reflected in his hauntingly piercing eyes. A beautiful face, clear skin, manicured nails, lustrous hair, and a faint aroma of soap... It was as if he was appraising an object. He was weighing its utility and worth, deciding whether to kill or make use of it.

"P-please d-d-don’t…help me, oh God...…" She choked, fear rounded her pupils. 

Since she was just a normal person, having a gun pointed at her head was enough to make her incredibly distressed. Her heart was hammering in her chest, and her body was trembling uncontrollably. Choked with fear, all Boyeon could do was try to force open her throat, which felt sewed shut, and plead.

'I wonder how she's been hiding.' A hint of interest bloomed in his pitch-black eyes. 

He glanced at the underground stairs behind Boyeon's crouched figure. They appeared to have been paved with solid concrete.

"A bunker?" His eyes lighted in recognition. 

It was a wealthy neighborhood, so it was likely that there were rich people with this sort of hobby. He shrugged it off and went inside. The muzzle of the gun was still pointed at Boyeon. Boyeon had no choice but to raise her hands and take a hesitant step backwards.

Boyeon didn’t even have time to take a closer look at the man. She couldn't quite figure out why he was pointing a gun at her and what she should do in a situation like this.

Flooded with fear, she couldn't bring herself to make eye contact, so she dropped her gaze, noticing the man's military boots.

However, he was not in military uniform. And although there were zombies roaming around outside, the man was dressed in a pair of light cotton pants and a short-sleeved shirt, as if he wasn't afraid of being bitten. On top of that, he was wearing a combat harness to hold his magazines. Every time he moved, the soft fabric caught on the harness and pulled, exposing his explosive physique in an intimidating manner.

He was larger and more muscular than any man Boyeon had ever seen. There was no comparison to her college classmates. He looked like a general or barbarian out of a movie set in ancient times. If she had to estimate his combat power and physical strength, he seemed like the type that could pulverize zombies with ease.

But the face that came into view past the thick neckline had a chilling effect. His jet-black hair and crimson lips were the symbol of beauty. He had a stunning face that was rarely seen, but the frigid atmosphere around him made her feel afraid.

"A-a-are you a soldier...?" Boyeon asked with a glimmer of hope.

"No." His crimson lips smoothly raised into a smirk. 

He then turned to Boyeon and directed his murky gaze at her. His eyes, obscured by inky hair, were eerily out of focus.

It gave her the chills.

Boyeon felt like prey thrown in front of a savage beast. Alarm bells were going off in her head, telling her she had to run.

But where would she go?

Her trembling gaze turned to the muzzle. She had no chance of winning in a one-on-one physical fight, not to mention he had a gun. A sense of dread filled her head that told her if she resisted, she would die.

"Please put the gun away...." Boyeon pleaded in a soft tone.

Her voice quivered, and a tear escaped her eye, hoping to convey to the man that she had no intention of rebelling.

But the man merely tilted his head, as if wondering if it was even necessary. His stone-cold eyes seemed to convey a complete lack of aversion to murder.

"P-please don’t kill me..." She whispered again, intuitively sensing danger and wanting to survive.

"I-if you want to stay here... y-you can..." Boyeon frantically searched her mind, knowing there were ample supplies inside this underground bunker. Boyeon's aunt said she should never let anyone else in, but her life was at stake. However, the man didn't seem to like what Boyeon had said. His eyebrows were slightly furrowed. Maybe he thought it would be easier to just kill her and take it for himself.

"I need your password to get in…” He said emotionlessly.

Boyeon was silent, heart pounding with dread. She had a strong feeling that once she told him, her life would end. Nevertheless, a rasp escaped her lips, "I'll tell it to you, but please don’t kill me.” 

Finally, the man spoke, his tone calculating. "Why should I?"

As the pleasant bass resounded in Boyeon’s ears, she couldn’t help but think that a utilitarian man like him was as dangerous as a zombie, if not more so. Boyeon's face, thinking she had made a mistake, scrunched as tears slid down her cheeks in succession.

"I-I-I can do things like drone reconnaissance, or cleaning, or cooking…,”  She pleaded. 

His gaze was indifferent as if he was looking at a rustling insect. It seemed like what she said wasn't good enough. Boyeon’s face dimmed instantly.

"I-I'll do anything you want...So please don't kill me...."

His eyes, which seemed to be looking for something, flashed dimly in the silence. He stared at Boyeon's face, whose emotions were clearly visible, and then stretched out his hand, which was holding the gun.

Boyeon flinched. His fingers were hot and firm as they skimmed over the lobe of her ear. Her eyes were firmly squeezed shut. His touch moved from her ear to her cheek. He traced her soft cheek, skimmed the nape of her neck, and descended even further. The man noted how silky the feel of her hair cascading down her chest, following his gesture, was and felt tantalized by the motion. .

Tap.

"...!"

She felt the solid touch of a hard gun barrel on her lower back.

Even though it wasn't overheated from firing, it was still hot. Her skin tingled as if she were being scalded, and cold sweat ran down her face. It felt like the sound of gunfire would pierce her ears at any moment. The man gently pulled Boyeon toward him. Too frightened to dare to rebel, too weak to move, too helpless to resist – her lithe body fluttered like a small bird, obeying his touch.

Thud.

The man's firm chest pressed against her cheek. There was an overwhelming difference in their physiques.

Boyeon's touch was harmlessly feminine and gentle. He felt a deep sense of satisfaction as his hand brushed over her pitifully round shoulders.

It didn't matter what was in the bunker, or how much her grandfather had saved for his granddaughter. In a lawless land, it was natural for the strong to plunder the weak.

He didn't care much about the company he kept. Most humans were a burden to him. Boyeon was no different. She was weak and clumsy, and he was sure she would be a liability.

It was easier to simply kill her and take what he needed. Still, he wondered why he didn't just shoot her outright. If it weren't for the fact that he hadn't masturbated in quite some time, and his pent-up libido hadn't been so intensely aroused by the sight of her flushed, tear-filled face and her voluptuous body, Boyeon would have been dead.

"If you weren't a woman,” He didn't bother to sugarcoat that fact, the low timbers of his voice softly echoing in Boyeon's ear, "I'd have no use for you."

Thump.

Her slender body twitched and shuddered. Boyeon wasn't foolish enough to not recognize his intent. She was so petrified that she gasped for air, unable to breathe properly. Her ragged breaths were as pitiful as a small bird with broken wings.

Boyeon realized that the man she was touching had a stiff erection.

She was frightened and didn't know what to do. The man rested his hand on her head almost possessively.

“Your age?”

"Ugh–sniffle–I-I-I’m…”

Boyeon couldn’t finish her sentence and burst into tears. The man didn't press her for an answer; he simply stroked her hair soothingly. His demeanor was relaxed as if he knew there was no reason to be impatient. To her, it felt like a trap with no way out. The devil's whisper prompted her to wonder… what would happen if she refused? She didn't want to know. She was afraid.

"I-I'm…–hic–I'm an adult, please...help me…" In the end, Boyeon ended up pleading. Her voice, which succumbed to fear, trembled terribly.

The man obediently put the gun away and stepped back. As relief filled Boyeon, black spots also dotted her screen of vision. The last thing she felt before being unable to hold on any longer was a large hand gripping her waist, its heat searing her flesh like a brand. 

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[1] A magazine is a storage device for ammunition and is used with semi-automatic or full-automatic weapons. Some people might refer to it as a "clip," but they are not the same things.