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Chapter: 25
Corpses were familiar. But that did not mean they were not shocking. Every time she saw one, it was disgusting, unpleasant, and frightening.
Walking corpses were unpleasant too. But a real corpse—someone truly dead—awakened an instinctive fear just by looking at it.
“Haah……”
Maya swallowed the rising nausea and slowly closed her eyes, letting out a deep sigh.
Inside the plastic bundle found in the mudslide was a corpse. The body, drained of all blood and pale white, almost looked like part of the plastic, but the arm sticking out clearly showed that it had once been a human being.
“Damn.”
Her hips and legs were covered in muddy water after rolling on the wet soil.
Maya rubbed her goosebump-covered cheek, then noticed her own hands stained with mud and muttered a curse.
“Heh. Hey, don’t tell me you got scared of just a corpse?”
Luke chuckled as he looked at Maya sitting on the ground. His mocking eyes made her blood boil.
“Shut up. I just slipped.”
“Ah, sure. Of course.”
Crack—an invisible spark seemed to flash between them. Their tension was nothing new.
From the Fencing Hill Shelter to Morton Farm, their conflict had never stopped.
What interrupted them was Edwin’s excited voice.
“Uh, wait! Isn’t this our car?”
Everyone’s gaze shifted to where Edwin was pointing.
Beneath the place where the corpse had been removed, a familiar green roof appeared. It was hard to tell under the mud, but after wiping it away, Edwin shouted in joy.
“It is! It’s our car!”
Color returned to the group’s pale faces. The unknown corpse was already forgotten.
“I hope it still works……”
Peggy bit her cracked lips nervously and muttered.
“Hmm… the windows are completely shattered.”
Edwin spoke in despair after clearing the mud from the truck. A farm machine swept along with the mudslide must have hit it, breaking most of the glass.
“It will be hard to leave right away……”
Mud had filled under the driver’s seat. It was not much, but clearing it would take effort.
“As long as it moves, it’s fine.”
Kalif answered casually and lifted the plastic bundle and tangled wooden boards from the truck roof in one motion.
Crunch.
With the sound of rotten wood breaking, an old leather wallet rolled out from the torn plastic. It seemed to belong to the corpse. Kalif’s eyes moved to the open wallet.
A vast cornfield under a clear blue sky. An old wooden house. A young couple holding a baby.
The background in the photo behind their bright smiles felt very familiar.
“David… Morton.”
Edwin murmured the name on the stained ID card beside the photo.
Morton. And Morton Farm.
Kalif’s face hardened as he looked toward the wooden house under dark clouds.
Morton, who had been watching them all morning, was nowhere to be seen.
Whoooosh—the heavy wind filled with rain blew, and the corn stalks rustled in the silence.
Someone gasped in the cold, eerie atmosphere.
“Damn it, Jigu…!”
Thud!
Kalif threw the board aside and ran toward the farm.
With one leap the distance closed quickly, yet the path felt endlessly long.
Thump! Thump!
An unbearable sense of dread pounded in his chest.
Where is Jigu?
His hair stood on end. Even on deadly battlefields, he had never felt such danger.
What if something had happened to Jigu? What if he could never see her foolish, giggling face again?
“Kh…!”
A suppressed groan escaped between his clenched teeth. He regretted every moment he had doubted and guarded against her.
None of that mattered.
If Jigu was alive. If he could just stay by her side.
Her faint breathing. The warmth of her body wrapping around his rough hands. Her giggling laughter and soft whispers. Her clear eyes shining even in darkness. The small affection and trust inside them.
That was enough.
Nothing else mattered before that.
Too-late realization turned into deep regret.
Bang!
Kalif kicked the old wooden door open and rushed inside. Damp heat mixed with moisture hit his face.
“We’re bankrupt.”
“Yeah. Bankrupt, Jigu.”
“No! Not yet!”
“Aaah!”
Jigu screamed and fell flat on the floor, kicking wildly like a child throwing a tantrum. Ryan clicked his tongue and shook his head.
“That won’t help.”
Jigu rolling on the floor. Ryan looking down at her proudly. A strange young girl sitting beside him laughing. Morton sitting at the table sipping from a steaming cup. And the square board game between the children.
The peaceful scene glowed warmly in the fireplace light.
“This is a conspiracy!”
A card Jigu threw fluttered through the air and landed at Kalif’s feet.
◆General Income Tax◆
Pay taxes for each building as follows:
~ Hotel $100, Building $60, Villa $20 ~
Kalif’s eye twitched as he picked up the card.
“W-wait… If I sell a building, I can get money…!”
“Tsk tsk, Jigu. You forgot—you still have debts.”
“……”
Small squares around the board, filled with tiny model buildings.
After reckless speculation and even private loans, the greedy landlord’s end was bankruptcy from a tax bomb.
What should I do? Should I flip the board?
Jigu’s eyes flashed, but Ryan grabbed the board firmly.
“You think I’ll fall for that again? Pay your taxes—and my $500 you borrowed!”
“You must repay the bank loan too, Jigu.”
“I… I’m bankrupt……”
At last, Jigu dropped to her knees in defeat.
“Ha.”
Kalif sighed in disbelief at the ridiculous, tensionless scene.
“David is my son.”
Morton traced the face on the stained photo inside the wet wallet and spoke with regret.
“I buried him on the hill of the back field, but the rain must have washed him down.”
In this world, death was closer than life. One might grow used to it—but how could anyone truly?
Sudden partings were always painful and sorrowful.
The old man’s eyes filled with deep grief.
Yet the group still looked at him with suspicion.
“How can we believe that?”
Morton chuckled softly.
“I know what you are thinking. But even so, what would change?”
He was right. Whether the corpse was his son, or whether he had killed the real owner, nothing changed.
Right now, the farm belonged to him—and they were only passing guests.
“The owner could change.”
Luke smirked. The air turned cold. Morton slowly lowered his hand under the table.
Kalif’s eyes followed.
To the gun Morton was holding beneath the table.
“Enough. What Morton said is true.”
Jigu’s calm voice cut through the tense air.
