The dull orange light of the setting sun struggled to pierce the thick gray smoke, bathing the vast parking plaza in front of Mega Mall Seoul, which had now transformed into a colossal construction site. Long shadows stretched across the concrete. The rumble of diesel generators competed with the ceaseless scrape of shovels and trowels against the ground.
Under the sharp, merciless supervision of Clone Number One, more than fifty ants toiled against time and the fading daylight. Sweat poured down faces streaked with cement dust and soot from hours of back-breaking labor.
"Pour the concrete! No air bubbles! Tie those rebar rods tighter!" Uncle Hwang—the former engineer now head foreman—shouted hoarsely. He wore a hard hat scavenged from the mall and stood directing from a newly assembled steel scaffold.
Hundreds of bags of Portland cement, gleaming silver rebar, and tens of thousands of lightweight concrete blocks that Kang Shi-hun had summoned from the God's Shop were being transformed at breakneck speed. Strong men mixed cement with pure water provided by the boss. Women and the less powerful hauled bricks in wheelbarrows and passed them to the wall-builders.
The reinforced concrete wall—half a meter thick and over four meters high—began to take shape, encircling the parking plaza and main entrances. This was no longer a temporary car barricade like yesterday. It was a true fortress, engineered to withstand the impact of Catastrophe-level monsters.
"Work harder, you ants! Anyone who takes longer than three minutes to mix a batch will lose tonight's dinner points!" Clone Number One patrolled with a surgical scalpel spinning between his fingers. The sadistic smile on his face acted like a whip that drove everyone to forget their exhaustion.
Deep inside the mall, far from the clamor of construction…
In the silent executive suite on the third floor, Kang Shi-hun sat cross-legged on a large Italian leather sofa in his black shirt (top buttons undone) and tailored slacks. He studied the golden system window floating in the air, checking his remaining 419.5 days of lifespan and planning the next phase of base upgrades.
Knock… knock…
A trembling knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. Shi-hun glanced toward the entrance, his pitch-black eyes emotionless.
"Enter," he said coldly.
The heavy wooden door opened hesitantly. Two young women stepped inside with fearful steps. They were Yumi and Hye-jin—former receptionist and part-time model who had survived this far. Their once well-cared-for bodies were now thin and frail, skin streaked with dust and dirt. Their hands were raw and blistered from gripping shovels and hauling bricks all day.
"B-Boss…" Yumi whispered, voice shaking, eyes red-rimmed. "We… we really can't take it anymore."
Hye-jin nodded, a single tear tracing a clean line through the dust on her cheek. "Those bricks are too heavy. Our hands are torn apart. If we have to go out and mix cement under the sun again tomorrow… we'll die. Please, Boss… let us do something else instead."
Shi-hun leaned back against the sofa, hands folded in his lap. His black eyes swept over both women from head to toe. There was no spark of pity or sympathy—only the cold appraisal of a merchant evaluating merchandise.
"In my domain…" Shi-hun said flatly, "everything runs on merit points. No one eats fresh bread or drinks clean water without creating value. If you can't carry bricks or push cement… then what 'ability' do you have to trade for life and food here?"
The two women exchanged glances. They knew they lacked Su-jin's combat skills, Soyeon's medical knowledge, or Ji-ah's leadership. In this lawless end of the world, the only asset they had left—their final possession—was their own bodies.
Yumi took a deep breath. She bit her lip, then reached trembling fingers to the torn buttons of her shirt. Hye-jin did the same.
The fabric covering their upper bodies slipped off and pooled on the carpet, revealing quivering forms. Their skin, though streaked with dust, still held the soft, alluring beauty of women who had once taken care of themselves. They sank to their knees before Shi-hun's sofa, eyes lifted to the man who held absolute power—fear mixed with desperate hope.
"We… have no special skills," Yumi whispered. "But we… can help you relieve your stress… We'll do anything. Anything you want. Just… just don't make us go back outside and carry bricks again."
Shi-hun gazed at the naked, trembling bodies before him. His eyes did not widen with lust or hunger like those of common thugs. For a man with INT 15 and a mind forged in death, this was not romance.
Yet a cold smile curved at the corner of his mouth.
"Interesting…" he said quietly. "You are not begging for mercy… you are offering the oldest currency in human history in exchange for comfort."
He leaned forward, one finger lifting Yumi's chin so their eyes met. "Very well… since you are selling, I will buy. Because here, everything has a negotiable price."
Time slipped into full darkness. Outside, the clamor of wall construction continued. Inside the third-floor suite, the air grew thick with heat and heavy breathing.
The transaction was carried out with perfect precision. It was not love. It was not attachment. It was a raw exchange between animals in a collapsed civilization.
Shi-hun's upgraded body—far beyond human limits—revealed its strength not only in battle but in every aspect. His hands, strong enough to crush bone, moved with controlled power as he pulled Yumi onto his lap first. She gasped as his fingers dug into her hips, guiding her down onto him in one smooth, relentless motion. The stretch was immediate and overwhelming; her back arched, a broken moan escaping her lips as her body adjusted to the invasion.
He did not kiss her. He simply held her waist and began to move—deep, steady thrusts that made her breasts bounce and her breath hitch. Every stroke was calculated, precise, using the full force of his enhanced physique. Yumi's nails dug into his shoulders, tears of overwhelming sensation mixing with the dust on her cheeks. The wet slap of skin on skin echoed in the quiet room, her inner walls clenching around him in involuntary spasms as pleasure and pain blurred together.
Hye-jin watched, cheeks flushed, until Shi-hun reached for her next. He pulled her close, positioning her on her hands and knees beside Yumi. His hand slid between her thighs, fingers teasing her open before he entered her from behind in a single powerful thrust. Hye-jin cried out, body shuddering as he filled her completely. He took her harder, one hand fisted in her hair, the other gripping her hip, driving into her with rhythmic force that made her entire frame shake. Her moans grew louder, desperate, mingling with Yumi's as both women were used in turn—then together.
Shi-hun switched between them without pause, his stamina endless. He took Yumi on her back, legs over his shoulders, pounding deep until her eyes rolled back and she came with a choked sob. Then Hye-jin straddled him, riding frantically while he guided her hips, forcing her to take every inch until she shattered around him. Their bodies glistened with sweat, breasts heaving, thighs trembling. The room filled with the slick sounds of sex, broken gasps, and the occasional sharp cry when he hit a spot that made their toes curl.
There was no tenderness. Only raw, transactional dominance. Shi-hun's face remained calm, almost detached, even as his body moved with machine-like precision and overwhelming power. He used them until both women were limp and sobbing with exhaustion, their bodies marked by his grip, their minds floating in a haze of relief and surrender.
On the rumpled king-sized bed, Yumi and Hye-jin lay sprawled, chests rising and falling in ragged breaths. Sweat glistened on their skin. Their breasts moved with each heavy pant. Exhaustion finally dragged them into deep, dreamless sleep, faint smiles of relief on their faces. They had paid the rent for their lives. They would not have to carry cement under the sun again.
Kang Shi-hun rose from the bed without a trace of fatigue. He remained cold and detached, like a machine that had simply refueled.
He picked up his black shirt, buttoned it slowly, one button at a time. He slipped on the bespoke black suit jacket, straightened the collar until it was flawless, put on his Italian leather shoes, and turned to leave without even glancing back at the sleeping women on the bed. The transaction was complete. He was not the type to linger in embraces or show softness.
Shi-hun stepped out onto the third-floor balcony. The night wind tugged lightly at the hem of his suit jacket.
He looked across the atrium and out to the parking plaza. Under the spotlights, the four-meter-high reinforced concrete wall now encircled the domain. Steel barricades and razor wire added extra strength. Under Number One's command, everything followed the blueprint he had set. This fortress was becoming the safest place in Seoul.
Shi-hun lifted his gaze to the large neon sign on the building, some letters broken and fallen.
[MEGA MALL SEOUL]
His pitch-black eyes narrowed. This mall was no longer a place for ordinary people to shop for clothes or perfume. It had been cleansed with blood, ash, and completely remade by him—the man who carried an endless arsenal inside his mind.
"Mega Mall Seoul… that name is too pretty and too weak," Shi-hun murmured to the night wind, his voice cold and final.
He wanted a name that reflected the true power of this place. A name that would make any scavenger or intruder feel ice in their bones. A name that told the outside world the main product here was not food, not clothes, but… death.
"From today onward…" Shi-hun declared to the darkness, eyes gleaming with limitless ambition, "…my castle will be called The Gun Shop."