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Brought to you by Valir Scans! To support our team and enjoy the latest releases, please read directly on our official site: valirscans.org
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A Corporate Slave Becomes a Villainous Nuisance in a Zombie Apocalypse
Episode 70
Screeeech—
A brazier filled with glowing red coals was wheeled into the Underground Dungeon. ‌Sparks crackled and danced from the incandescent charcoal.
Thud. ‌‌‌
"Phew."
The two servants of the ‌‌‌‌Prome Lord who had set down the brazier in the Corridor wiped the sweat from their brows and ‌retreated.
"Allow me to introduce you. This is the hardest-working tool in this Mansion."
The Prome Lord, his face bathed in orange firelight, smiled with satisfaction.
As if to show me, the lord reached between the glowing coals and grasped a long, slender rod.
Screeeech—
A branding iron.
The lord rotated the branding iron—its handle worn smooth from use—and thrust ‌‌it before my face. ‌‌‌
Clang.
The iron bars where the branding iron touched instantly turned a brilliant red.
"Oh my, ‌‌‌‌how careless. I nearly made a mistake."
...
"I almost marred your lovely skin, my lady. I must be more careful!"
The man who groveled shamelessly before Praha and Cyprus now deepened ‌‌‌‌his voice and affected dignity ‌‌before his subordinates.
I clenched my teeth, refusing to show fear before such a wretch—I'd rather die. ‌‌
"Tch."
Seeing that I didn't even blink, the lord clicked his tongue and extended his hand to his subordinate.
The servant placed a large pair of shears into his palm.
The lord snapped the rusted, heavy blades together once, twice, ‌‌then rubbed them against the branding iron.
"Well, that's fine. The blade isn't dull ‌‌just today, after all."
Dried blood flaked away from the shears' edge.
"As you know, I'm short on time today. I must soon tell those two Highnesses when they awaken that you and Smoothie made eyes at each other and fled, and I must also see them safely off from my Territory."
"...Do you truly believe they will leave without searching for me if you ‌say such things?"
"Of course!"
Surely you don't think otherwise, my lady? The lord laughed. ‌‌
"Hahahaha!"
"Hahahaha!"
The lord's subordinates behind him joined in ‌‌mocking me. ‌‌
'Fools.'
Had they already forgotten how my companions behaved at the dinner table on the day we arrived?
They're all my dogs, cats, and ducks.
'Though I'll admit, I didn't believe they'd come rescue me from the Maze either.'
My reputation must be ‌‌‍truly terrible, I thought with bitter ‌‌self-mockery, lowering my head.
The enormous sack at my feet writhed.
"So today, let me simply give you a taste of ‌‌‌what this place is, my lady."
The Prome Lord turned, clutching the ‌‌branding iron and shears in one hand.
He fished a key from his waist as he headed toward the adjacent room where the Unlucky Adventurer was held.
Jingle, jingle.
Click.
"Ugh...."
The sound of the Unlucky Adventurer—the man I'd spoken with moments ago, who claimed he'd merely lost his way—backing away could be heard.
Clang.
Creak.
Jingle, jingle.
"Ahhh...! D-don't come closer...!"
"You're in the way. Restrain him."
"Yes, sir."
But in a cramped dungeon cell identical to my own, there was no way for him to escape.
Thud-thud sounds.
Smack.
"Aaaahhh!"
First came screams.
Sizzle.
Crash.
"...! ...!"
Then came the sounds of things being hurled and shattered.
"Aaaahhh! Aaaahhh! ‌‌‌Ughhhh! Ugh! ...!"
Squelch.
"...."
Then came a sickening ‌‌‌silence.
The stench of burning flesh filled the dungeon.
Minutes later, the Prome Lord reappeared before me and tossed a small, blood-crusted piece at my feet.
"...."
"You will be sent to Sodom, my lady. I'm certain you're already familiar with that region's reputation—the Empire's greatest den of vice."
Sodom. A place where alcohol, gambling, and auctions thrived.
Blood dripped steadily from the Lord's hands as he spread his arms in an ‌exaggerated gesture.
"You will be put on the auction block ‌‌‌at Sodom's slave market. Perhaps one of the nobles visiting there might recognize you!"
Will someone actually recognize you and ‌‌come to your rescue?
Or will they seize the opportunity to make you—notorious as you are—their own slave?
"You should have lived virtuously from the start."
"...."
"No one will save you. Your companions won't even search for you. ‌‌‌All that remains for you now is a pathetic descent. Isn't that delightful?"
The Lord wiped the blood from his hands on a handkerchief, then tossed it mockingly through the iron bars toward me.
"I find it quite delightful. Watching a young, beautiful woman destroy her own future is always a great pleasure."
As he spoke, the Lord ‌‌‌‌studied my expression.
As if he thought I would be startled and terrified upon hearing his words, trembling with fear.
I bit my lip to keep from laughing.
'Pretending to be the world's greatest villain. A common criminal, no less.'
Does he think he's the only person in the world who likes that sort of thing? There are tons of pathetic losers like that these days. Nothing surprising about it.
It's characteristic of that type—a loser deluding himself into thinking he's an incredibly terrifying villain.
So I'm not afraid of someone like you.
"Smoothie will be ‌‌‌arriving here soon as well. We'll place him in the same room once he does."
"...."
"I took careful note of the ‌‌expressions on both His Highnesses' faces when they heard that the Young Lady had fled in the dead of night with Smoothie. I'll be sure to relay that to you."
The Prome Lord, who had been clicking his scissors and rambling on in front of me, left with his subordinates.
Click.
The prison was engulfed in darkness and silence once more.
I ‌‌stared down at the severed tongue that had fallen at my feet.
It was horrifying, and I was frightened by this situation, but separate from that—the Prome Lord did not scare me.
'People like that are predictable.'
This man doesn't actually enjoy cutting off people's tongues.
What he enjoys ‌‌‌is watching others fear him and cower in terror during the process.
It's how he confirms his own pathetic existence.
What the Prome Lord wanted from me was also clear.
To see me—a Young ‌‌‌Lady—weeping, wailing, ‌‌‌trembling with fear.
'So he won't kill me easily or let me be injured. That wouldn't be fun for him.'
He'll probably keep me locked up here for a few days.
I just need ‌‌to escape within that time.
"Hey there.... Are you alright?"
I gripped the iron bars again and called out to the adventurer in the adjacent cell.
I asked several times, but no answer came back. He was ‌‌‌‌either unconscious from excessive blood loss, or perhaps already dead.
Or his mind had half departed.
I shifted my attention to the large sack sprawled out beside me.
The sack, which had been twitching occasionally ‌‌‌since earlier—especially violently when the Lord was threatening me—was now quiet.
"...."
I crouched down in front of the sack.
When my hand touched what appeared to be the face of the person inside, the person in the sack flinched.
'I'm a bit hesitant about carelessly releasing an unknown man in the same room as me.'
But I can't just leave him like this either.
"Excuse me, are you perhaps a criminal?"
Head shake.
"Have you harbored hatred toward women in the past?"
Head shake.
"Do you have three or more women you maintain friendly relations with?"
Head nod.
"All right. I'll untie you then."
"...."
"Just a moment.... This knot isn't coming undone easily."
That's when a voice emerged from inside ‌‌‌the sack.
The whispered, low murmur was difficult to make out at first, and only after asking several times did I finally understand.
"Has everyone left, you ask? Yes. They've all gone."
Then the sack suddenly lurched upright and sat up on its own.
As if orienting itself, it thrashed ‌‌‌about a few times before—pak!—a tremendous force erupted from within. The sack, thick as a rice bag, tore open effortlessly. Moments later, a face emerged as if breaking the surface of water.
The human inside the sack shook their head, scattering droplets.
Unwavering amber eyes met mine. ‌‌
"...."
"...."
"...Crown Prince?"
What are you doing coming out of there...?
"Did you ‌‌come to rescue me...?" ‌
"No, I've been captured as well."
"...."
Why...?
"Marquis Prome thought Your ‌‌‌‌‌Highness was sleeping in his own quarters...."
"I was taken without the Marquis knowing."
"...."
So why...?
* * *
Praha was busy.
Because he had arranged to meet with Yusara.
Despite having just been with her moments ago, the trivial fact that he would see her again shortly made Praha restless.
"Your Highness, are you bathing again?"
"...."
Without any particular reason to do so, he washed himself once more.
He asked a drowsy servant about how ‌to make cream coffee.
At first, he had intended to order the servant to prepare it for ‌‌‌him.
But then Yusara's words came to mind.
'My maids have all left for the day, so it would be difficult to call them back and ask....'
The Crown Prince, a Crown Prince to his very bones, was accustomed to having someone at his side twenty-four hours a day and had never once entertained such a thought.
But because Yusara had said it, he felt certain that her words ‌‌‌were absolutely right.
So he whipped the milk and cream himself and stirred it together.
"Your Highness, what do you intend to do with all this cream?"
A servant of Prome, unaware that one should not speak carelessly to the Imperial Family, asked with apparent bewilderment. Praha answered simply.
"To drink it."
"But such a large quantity.... It seems like enough for a hundred people to drink and still have some left over...."
The servant's words trailed off.
Ah. Only then did Praha glance down at the glass ‌‌‌bowl he held—large as a washbasin.
"Is this too much for one person?"
"One person?!"
"...."
Well, that settled the cream-making for now.
"Where are my books?"
I recalled Yusara mentioning she wanted to study ancient languages.
I thought she'd appreciate them brought with coffee, so I gathered them up.
I spent ‌‌thirty minutes checking whether the book contained anything strange, whether I'd left any notes in my terrible ‌‌‌‌‌handwriting—thirty minutes of careful inspection.
She'd mentioned her feet were swollen ‌‌‌‌from walking too much, so I grabbed a compress tool.
Since she seemed to use them well, I also packed a few iron arrows I'd brought.
Wanting to give this and that, the bundle of items had somehow grown quite large.
It wasn't urgent, nor did it need to be ‌‌given today, but Praha hadn't thought that far ahead.
Yet faced with the enormous quantity of cream filling ten glass bottles, I found myself ‌‌‌hesitating slightly.
'Is this right?'
Should I bring just one bottle and discard the rest?
Two bottles? Three?
As I deliberated, my reflection suddenly caught my eye in the mirror.
A boy of fifteen, looking somewhat foolish, stood there.
"Ha."
A hollow laugh escaped me.
Why was this so difficult?
Wouldn't it be easier to survive bare-handed ‌‌in a ‌‌‌zombie ‌den?
No one had given ‌‌‌me this task, yet after causing all this trouble on my own, I'd reached the conclusion that it was 'difficult.'
My face ‌‌remained expressionless throughout, and the ‌‌‌‌servant beside me began to grow uneasy.
"I'll take just this."
"Your Highness, what about ‌the remaining cream?"
"Leave it."
"But it will spoil...."
"Cyprus can eat it."
I shot a dissatisfied glance at my still-damp hair and left the room, already losing interest in the mountain of cream I'd made.
I sat obediently in a chair in the Central Garden and waited.
But no matter how long I waited, Yusara did not come.
[Prome Mountain: ‌Underground Dungeon - ? Floor]
- Yusara, Praha (Alive)

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Brought to you by Valir Scans! To support our team and enjoy the latest releases, please read directly on our official site: valirscans.org
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