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Chapter 79
“Take this.”
He handed me his sword.
Idorian told me to sling the sword over my shoulder so it wouldn’t hinder my movements.
Rumi, who was standing beside me, stepped forward and helped hang the sword on my back.
“If it seems dangerous, don’t push yourself. Just come back.”
“Yes.”
“Don’t answer half-heartedly.”
I nodded quickly, yet he still scolded me.
“That’s an order. If it seems dangerous, you must come back immediately.”
“Yes, I will.”
His eyes were still filled with dissatisfaction, which felt unfair.
Just how sincere did he want my answer to be?
Before I could even ask what the problem was, his hand grabbed my face.
Idorian cupped my chin with one hand, his brows knitting tightly.
“Look.”
I had to stretch my neck toward his hand and look up at him.
“Idorian, what are you doing? She doesn’t like that.”
He pressed just a bit harder, my cheek squashed and my lips pushed out.
I frowned deeply—though the fierce eyes and scowl were entirely intentional on my part.
“There’s not a single trace of worry on your face.”
Idorian spoke as I tried to shake off his hand.
Do I really look like that?
Realizing my mistake, I stopped resisting.
“Haah…”
He finally let go of my face and let out a heavy sigh.
“Penelope. Please.”
He called my name like a parent begging a foolish child.
“…If zombies get close, I’ll hide right away. Don’t worry.”
“Right. Don’t worry too much. You’re Penelope, who made it back alive from the forest all by herself.”
Rumi rushed to take my side, then pushed my shoulder as though telling me to get going.
I hurried out the door before Idorian could grab me again and continue lecturing me.
“I have to find food somehow.”
Even as I walked toward the area where more houses stood, I kept glancing back.
I couldn’t shake the feeling Idorian was watching from the window.
It’s because he’s worried about you…
He said he was worried, but the truth was he didn’t trust me.
If I failed to bring back enough food this time, he would insist on going himself next time—arguing for ages.
Lost in thought, I noticed a zombie corpse lying on the road.
I quickly smeared some of its remains on myself, just in case Idorian was watching.
Only when our base was completely out of sight did I stop avoiding the wandering zombies and take a proper look around.
The houses here were much closer together than where we had settled.
“Idorian said none of the houses had food…”
It made sense.
When the outbreak happened, those who couldn’t escape would have hidden inside their homes first.
Their stored food would have been the first thing to run out.
After that, they would risk venturing to their backyard sheds.
Creeeak.
I opened the heavy metal door of a shed.
A foul, stale stench rose immediately, as if the place had been abandoned for ages.
Inside were only farm tools scattered across the floor and sacks of grain swarmed by flies.
But soon I realized those sacks didn’t contain grain at all—just bones.
Mostly stripped, hard to identify, but definitely animal remains.
I hurried out, unwilling to uncover anything more.
Right. The food must be outside.
I shut the door tightly and shook my head.
No more going inside houses or sheds.
I walked toward a cluster of homes. Beyond them, I saw a field.
Something familiar made me stop.
If not for the overgrown weeds, I might have overlooked it: cornstalks. I’d seen ones just like these at the fortress almost every day.
The field had clearly been abandoned long ago, weeds swallowing everything.
Parting them, I spotted several small yellow pumpkins—some rotten with pests, but many still intact.
I quickly picked them and moved toward the corn.
But there were no ears of corn—only husks.
Without someone tending the field, the plants hadn’t matured properly.
After rummaging for a while, I finally found a tiny corn hidden in its husk.
“This should do.”
I kept searching and managed to find quite a bit.
Best among them were potatoes and sweet potatoes.
Many potatoes poked above the soil and had turned green, but digging deeper revealed a few good ones.
Smaller than the fortress ones, but still precious.
Before I knew it, my skirt was overflowing with produce, things tumbling to the ground.
Even with an underskirt, I couldn’t carry them like this—not if I needed to run from zombies at any moment.
I set the crops down carefully at the roadside and headed for a nearby house.
Despite my earlier vow not to enter homes, I planned only to grab a cloth or sack and leave.
The yard was tangled with flowers and weeds.
I climbed the stone steps and opened the door.
Though no one had lived here for a long time, the house felt incredibly warm—almost inviting.
Every piece of furniture seemed touched by its owner’s affection:
Crooked drawings only a child could make.
Candlesticks and a clock placed lovingly on the fireplace mantle.
A bookshelf full yet orderly.
A vase on a small table holding a bouquet, now dried and brittle with time.
I stared at it all, briefly imagining guests still visiting, then grabbed the tablecloth.
Scrape.
A chair dragged somewhere behind me.
Thud, thud, thud.
A pounding noise rattled the wall from inside a room.
I froze instantly.
A survivor?
Thud, thud, thud.
The sound continued, then abruptly stopped.
Not a person—a zombie.
A zombie in such a clean, well-maintained home felt horribly wrong.
Maybe that was why I approached the room and slowly opened the door.
“Ah…”
In the center of the room was a man tied to a massive chair.
No—a zombie.
He jerked violently in response to the noise.
Thud, thud, thud.
He struggled so fiercely that even tied, the chair rocked with him.
A large desk in front of him kept him from toppling over.
Beneath the chair lay the shattered head of a young zombie, and in her arms, a woman who had died while holding it.
Dried blood stained the floor, hardened into a dark mass.
The bodies were long decayed.
I understood immediately what had happened in this house—and I couldn’t stay a moment longer.
Clack.
I shut the door quickly.
The pounding resumed behind me, louder than before.
I fled across the weed-choked yard and raced back to the produce I had gathered.
Some were crushed—likely stomped by wandering zombies.
“……”
I picked out the intact ones and added a few more from the field.
If I gathered enough, Idorian wouldn’t argue next time, insisting he should go instead.
There was no food in the houses. No people.
This village was empty.
They must have endured hunger until they couldn’t anymore—then eaten their livestock, then…
Chose death beside the ones they loved.
Only now, after leaving the others, did the brutal reality become clear.
My steps sped up as I lifted the tightly wrapped tablecloth full of food.
I wanted to return to them—
to that place where, even if only slightly, this horrific world felt far away.
