"Captain, this is the 'leader's' hidden stash!"
Just as Brian finished dealing with the rebellious survivors, Kim Seong-min emerged from one of the buildings, holding a large sack. He smirked and handed it over.
Brian took it and looked inside. Only weapons and a few medical supplies—nothing particularly rare or valuable.
"Anything else in there?"
"No."
Kim glanced at the original buildings of the golf course and the makeshift shelters around them.
"I'd say the only real assets they have are the vegetables they've grown and that fishing boat by the lake. I checked their 'pharmacy'—most of it's expired. I salvaged some bandages, alcohol, and basic supplies. Already put them in the bag."
"Alright then."
Seeing there really wasn't much more, Brian didn't press further. For a survivor camp of fewer than a hundred people, having this much was already impressive.
As they spoke, Norman, Andrea, and the others were helping the freed prisoners and injured out of the basement, one by one.
Seeing them emerge, Brian handed the sack back to Kim, a teasing smirk on his face.
"Go on. Patch them up."
"Yeah, whatever. You're the boss."
Kim rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed, but took the bag anyway. He lined up the injured and began treating their wounds.
Brian turned his gaze to the group of survivors still kneeling nearby. He hesitated—unsure how to handle them. Should he eliminate them all, just like the others? Cut the roots before they could grow?
They looked terrified now, pitiful even. But weren't the people they'd imprisoned in the dungeon just as pitiful? Weren't the survivors they'd murdered just as innocent? Each life, a story cut short.
After a moment of silence, Brian decided against giving the order. Their fate—better left to those with more right to judge.
He turned to Wade and Norman.
"Take these people and lock them back in the basement cells. We'll deal with them once we've finished everything else."
"Yes, sir."
The two nodded and led the group away—one at the front, one at the back—back into the building with the prison cells.
Once they were gone, Brian turned and found Andrea, who was still watching over her injured companions. He walked up and tapped her shoulder.
"Come with me. I need to talk to you."
Without waiting for a reply, he turned and walked toward a more open area.
Andrea looked at his retreating back, then back at her wounded friends—still being treated. It would take time. After a moment's hesitation, she followed. Behind her, a small figure trailed closely—Hannah.
When they arrived, Brian casually sat on a raised rock, gazing at the lake shimmering under the moonlight.
"Sit wherever. You know, for a post-apocalyptic wasteland, this place isn't bad. Kind of peaceful."
"What do you want?"
Andrea frowned. With her companions in such a fragile state, she had no patience for small talk. She got straight to the point.
Brian twitched at her lack of appreciation, but continued.
"I called you here for three things. First—you have a traitor in your group."
"A traitor?" Andrea reacted instantly. "That's impossible!"
"Nothing's impossible."
Brian had expected this.
"I captured one of their members. He said there's a guy in your group named Dick. He didn't want to go to the quarantine zone—he wanted to stay here. He's been feeding them information. That's how they knew where to ambush your people."
Andrea stared hard at Brian, searching for any sign of deception. But she knew—he had no reason to lie. Thinking of Ford, dead in the cell, she clenched her fists, jaw tightening like she wanted to grind her teeth to dust.
"You… filthy… bastard…"
Feeling her sister's rage, Hannah stepped forward and gently took her hand, trying to calm her. But in her eyes, a cold glint flashed—murderous intent. She didn't show it, but the decision was already made: that man would die.
Noticing Hannah's reaction, Brian studied her with interest. This seemingly fragile girl was different. Skilled with a bow, controlled her emotions, didn't let anger cloud her judgment. More composed than her sister. Still raw, but given time… she could become someone formidable.
Once both had calmed, he continued.
"Second—what to do with these survivors. That's up to you."
"Up to us?" Andrea looked confused. "You want us to decide their fate?"
"Exactly."
Brian gave her a knowing look—you guessed it.
"We don't have personal scores to settle with them. They killed a few people, took some supplies. But they tortured your comrades. They killed one of yours. So their punishment? Your call. Saves me the trouble."
"What?!"
Andrea and Hannah both stared, stunned. "No personal scores? Just killed a few people?" He'd wiped out their entire group! And that was "nothing"?
"But—"
"Enough. It's decided."
Brian raised his hand, cutting her off.
"Third—and most important—do you still want to go to the quarantine zone?"
"Huh?" Andrea, still annoyed at being interrupted, was taken aback. But she answered, "Of course. We traveled so far, crossed so much danger—just to reach the quarantine zone."
Brian rubbed his fingers together, silent for a moment.
"Since we met in this small town… maybe it's fate. I won't lie to you. The truth is—the quarantine zone isn't what you think it is."
Andrea sat down on the grass, saying nothing. Too much information at once. She just wanted to hear it all before reacting.
And Brian didn't stop. He told her the current state of the quarantine zone—though he left out key, sensitive details.
When he finished, he repeated the question:
"Now that you know the truth… do you still want to go?"
"…"
Andrea lowered her head, her expression shifting between doubt and sorrow. After a long silence, she gave a bitter smile and shook her head.
"But where else can we go?"
Brian saw her confusion. A small smirk tugged at his lips.
"You could stay here."
"…Stay here?"
"Yes."
He took a sip from the flask he'd pulled from his jacket, then looked around—at the intact defenses, the buildings, the farmland.
"We only brought three vehicles. We'll take half the supplies. The rest would just go to waste. This camp's solid. You could live here. Isn't that perfect?"
As Brian scanned the surroundings, Andrea felt a flicker of temptation. If they stayed, food wouldn't be a problem. For people seeking peace? This was as good as it got.
"Why are you helping us?" Andrea looked at Brian, suddenly wary. Why would he show such kindness to their weak survivor group?
"Relax," Brian said, waving a hand. "I just like you. Call it… making friends. More friends, fewer enemies."
"…"
Andrea studied him, silent for a moment. Then she nodded.
"I need to discuss this with my people. I can't give you an answer now."
"No problem," Brian said, unfazed. "We're leaving tomorrow. Just give me your answer before noon."
"…Alright."
Andrea nodded. As she turned to leave, she paused, as if remembering something.
"My other companions haven't arrived yet. If they—"
"Don't say it." Brian cut her off. "Our vehicles have limited space. We can't take on unrelated people."
Andrea opened her mouth, wanting to argue. But seeing the cold indifference in his eyes, she understood. She sighed softly, then turned and walked away with Hannah.