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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 ‌‌73
"There are traces of magical healing on the bones here."
"That means...."
"Yes. ‌‌‌‌Your suspicion is correct."
"Good heavens."
My jaw fell open involuntarily, and ‌‌‌‌I covered it with my hand.
I'd suspected as much because of the 'gall juice,' but really?
"How could a person...."
Wait.
What did that dwarf Thug Guard say earlier?
"...The lord's subordinate said it just now. ‌‌‌‌They found strange people in the forest and killed them."
Filthy clothing, ‌‌‌blue-tinged skin. People who didn't flee even after being struck by arrows.
If that's the case.... ‌‌‌
"...They ‌‌‌‌mistook zombies for humans and hunted them...."
"And made soup from the spoils."
"Ugh."
I felt like ‌‌I ‌‌was going to vomit. ‌‌
I looked down at the bowl.
Murky broth, grease floating on the surface. The meat clinging to the bones had been boiled so thoroughly that it would fall apart at the slightest touch.
Noticing my ‌‌face turn pale, Praha quickly took the soup bowl from me and set it far away.
"Are you alright?"
"Yes, I'm fine."
I'm fine.
But....
"Your Highness, the portion distributed to the ‌‌people in the prison is just this—only broth, no meat. So what about the rest.... The lean meat...."
"The lord's subordinates are eating it."
How horrifying.
I shut my ‌eyes tightly.
Clatter.
Just then, I heard a sound from the adjacent cell.
The people who had been suppressing their presence, whom I hadn't even noticed existed, were gathering toward the meat soup placed before ‌them.
'People who have no idea how long they've been trapped here.'
People who had grown hungry waiting ‌for a meal that was unusually late today.
The meat soup placed before them.
I rushed to grab the iron bars and shouted.
"Don't ‌‌‌eat that!"
Clang, clang.
The iron bars I gripped rattled violently.
"Hey! Can you hear me?! Don't eat that!"
"...."
"That's not chicken!"
No response came ‌‌back.
Everyone in this prison had their tongues cut out, leaving them unable to answer.
Yet that didn't stop them from crowding toward the soup.
If they still possessed the ability to speak, what ‌‌‌would they have said?
You don't ‌‌‌believe me?
Or perhaps it doesn't matter?
Ever since being locked in this prison, had all the food distributed to them been like this?
"I'm serious! That's contaminated meat! I don't know what will happen if you eat it!"
"...."
"Are you listening to me?!"
"...."
Still, no response came.
Yet the sounds of movement never ceased.
Clatter.
Thud.
The sounds ‌‌‌‌of people with broken legs, people who had suffered in agony after their ‌‌‌tongues were severed, people who had starved since their confinement—all reaching toward the food before them.
"Listen!"
The wretched prisoners didn't believe the words ‌‌of this stranger who had entered the chamber for the first time today.
Clatter.
I heard the creaking and clanging of countless bowls being seized—I couldn't tell how many people there were.
I couldn't see.
All I could hear were ‌‌‌the sounds.
"...!"
"...!"
"...ugh!"
Over the meager soup, I heard them shoving and falling against one another in struggle.
Crash.
Blood began flowing from the cell to my left.
The crimson stream traced through the gaps in the floor, reaching all ‌‌the way to my feet.
Slurp.
Someone who had won the contest ‌made a sucking sound, drawing the liquid through their lips in place of a tongue.
"It's too late...."
"My lady."
"...."
"It's already over."
Praha, who had placed his hand on my shoulder from behind, quietly shook his head.
I crumbled.
I couldn't believe it.
I could only stare blankly at the red blood pooling on the floor.
How much time had passed like that?
The transformation began.
"...."
"...."
Crack. A grotesque sound of bones twisting unnaturally.
"Ugh...."
A person transforming.
Those who had been unable to eat the soup due to the chaos seemed startled ‌‌‌by their neighbor's sudden change, their panicked movements audible.
And ‌minutes later.
"...Grrgh!"
"...Ugh?"
Crunch.
Clang!
Clang clang clang!
The terrified people began shaking the prison bars that confined them wildly. Sounds of pushing, dodging, and striking echoed as they resisted.
It was futile.
Neither ‌‌the zombies nor their victims could produce proper sounds. Only the clanging of metal bars reverberated through the space.
I covered my ears.
Until ‌‌‌the noise subsided.
It took a considerable time before I lifted my head again.
"...."
"...."
"Your Majesty."
"Yes."
Clang!
People slamming their torsos against the iron bars in response to my voice.
People who had become zombies.
I spoke matter-of-factly.
"If the same menu had been served for dinner upstairs, everyone up ‌‌there would be zombies by now."
"Yes."
"If an unguarded Marquis Prome returns and opens the door to this Mansion where we're trapped, the zombies will pour out.... Prome Mountain would become absolute chaos. We need to escape first and seal this Mansion."
Until now, I ‌had considered waiting for Cyprus to arrive, but my thoughts had changed.
Praha simply nodded without further questions at my assessment.
"Understood."
Praha glanced at the firmly locked prison door and spoke.
"Thirty minutes should suffice."
Thirty minutes later.
"Do you remember the self-defense technique I taught you before?"
Praha, having pried open the ‌lock with a short blade hidden between his shoes, turned to me and asked.
While Praha wrestled with the prison door, I fashioned makeshift armor by tearing open the body bag he'd folded and wrapping the cloth around my limbs, offering my response.
"Such an impressive method—one doesn't easily forget."
It was a technique I'd genuinely love to try on the Prome Lord himself.
'If I wrap this cloth around my arms, it might block a zombie bite once. As long as the teeth don't pierce through.'
Which was harder—escaping from living humans, or evading zombies locked in their own cannibalistic ‌‌frenzy?
As I pondered this, Praha spoke.
"There's something I didn't manage to tell you back then."
Clang.
After discarding the broken dagger, Praha delivered one final powerful kick to the bars, and the lock tumbled outward across the floor.
The noise sent the zombies into another convulsion.
"Direct confrontation is a last resort."
"What do you mean?"
"Trying to overcome a madman gains you ‌‌‌‌nothing. Fighting ‌‌is the final option, the worst option, when no other path remains. The ‌‌best option is to flee."
Praha's amber eyes, fixed ‌‌on ‌‌me as he moved closer, gleamed with intensity.
A brightness far surpassing ‌‌the torches mounted on the walls.
In this Mansion shrouded in darkness, it was the sole light I could trust and follow.
"I'm not telling you to run because you're weak. I'm advising it because it's the wisest choice."
"...."
"So if any unexpected situation arises upstairs, don't fight. Run. As far ‌‌as you possibly can." ‌‌
"...."
"Don't get hurt."
I questioned the man speaking to me with ‌‌such earnest intensity.
"Will you run as well?"
"Yes. I'll flee as shamefully as possible."
The man who, despite being currently unarmed and bearing bruises on his face, could ‌‌single-handedly crush every person in this Mansion, declared he would run.
That he would flee.
"Even if you see ‌‌‌people trapped in the adjacent room—those who've become zombies through no fault of their own—don't let it shake you. Think only of escape. I'll do the same."
"...."
"Prioritize survival above all else. Abandon your pride."
"...."
"It won't be a particularly manly display."
Praha declared this without a shred of embarrassment.
That he would act shamefully.
Watching him, I recalled that this man had survived hundreds of battles since his teenage years, never retreating once in any of them—a war hero of legendary standing.
And ‌now such a man says he will run.
In a situation that pales compared to the wars he's endured.
"...May I ask why you've chosen to act this ‌‌way?"
"Because I now have ‌‌‌‌something to lose."
"...."
"In truth, I even debated whether I should demonstrate my fighting prowess for the sake of my dignity."
"...." ‌‌‌
"I won't risk putting you in danger just to preserve my pride."
"...."
"I'll cowardly flee, and I hope you'll do the same."
"...."
"And please, don't try to save me if I fall into danger."
If only he hadn't said that last part, I might have wavered.
Without a word, I held out the rough cloth I'd been gripping. When Praha refused to take it, I grabbed his wrist directly and began wrapping it around his arm as I spoke.
"Did you know? A lot of scientists actually don't recognize bite marks—what we call tooth impressions—as reliable evidence."
"Is that so?"
"Yeah. Which means if either of us gets ‌‌‌‌‌bitten and ‌‌turns into a zombie here, it'll be nearly impossible to identify the culprit based on bite marks alone."
Why does he keep flinching? Is ‌‌my hand that cold?
"If we die without catching the culprit, that's just ‌‍‌‌unfair. So let's not get bitten—let's both make it out alive."
Praha, who had been staring intently at my hand as I ignored his words and said something completely different, asked me a question.
"Why are your ‌‌‌fingers like this?"
"Oh, this? They got bent backward."
The Baroness was surprisingly strong. I scrunched my ‌‌‌nose in embarrassment. ‌
The joints were only slightly swollen—barely noticeable—yet somehow he'd spotted it.
After wrapping the rough cloth around Praha's wrist, I tried to pull my hand back, but Praha gently grasped my retreating fingers. His lips brushed against the swollen knuckles.
"I won't let the Baroness get away with this."
"And how exactly do you plan to do that?"
"Well, I suppose I could bite her."
"Good grief."
Why does he keep pushing this puppy concept?
I pulled my hand away. ‌‌Praha's face followed, chasing after my hand and kissing my knuckles several ‌‌‌‌more times.
"It tickles."
"Understood."
"That means stop, ‌‌‌‌by the way."
"Ah."
"...."
I know this isn't the time for this, but I need to say it anyway. ‌
When I first set out on this journey, I made myself a promise.
That whatever Praha did for me was nothing but camaraderie.
That if I mistook it for love and crossed that line, I'd only make things harder for myself.
That I wouldn't ‌‌‌‌repeat the past.
...But wait, was that really just my misunderstanding?
[Prome Mountain: Underground Level ? Prison]
- 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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