02:14 AM – Two Hours Since Outbreak
Han-su sat in the dark of his truck, his breathing shallow and jagged. He had locked the doors, but the thin glass of the window felt like tissue paper. Outside, the world had gone mad.
There were no support from government,no relief operations. There was only the smell of burning rubber and the sound of someone screaming until their throat tore.
Inventory Check:
A half-empty bottle of lukewarm water.
A heavy-duty box cutter (the blade was nicked).
A clipboard.
48 unclaimed packages in the back.
"Think," Han-su whispered, his hands shaking so hard he had to sit on them. "Think, you idiot."
He looked at the dashboard. The fuel gauge was at a quarter tank. The main roads were already a graveyard of stalled cars and panicked crowds. If he stayed on the asphalt, he was dead.
The First Choice
A woman ran past his truck, her heels clicking frantically on the pavement. Behind her, three of them followed. They didn't run like Olympic sprinters; they ran like people who no longer felt pain—stiff-legged, relentless, and fast enough.
She pounded on his window. "Open the door! Please! Help me!"
Han-su's hand moved toward the lock. His heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird. But then he saw the blood on her shoulder—a deep, jagged chunk missing from her collarbone.
He froze.
The things caught her. They didn't growl. They just made a frantic, hungry huffing sound. He watched the life leave her eyes in the reflection of his side mirror.
Survival Rule #1: Compassion is a luxury you can no longer afford.
The Gear
Han-su realized he couldn't stay in the truck forever. He needed a weapon. He crawled into the back through the small sliding window that connected the cabin to the cargo hold.
He tore open the packages like a man possessed.
Package 1: A set of silk bedsheets. Useless.
Package 2: A high-end espresso machine. Heavy, but too awkward.
Package 3: A 24-inch carbon steel frying pan.
He gripped the handle of the pan. It was solid. It had reach. It wouldn't break like the box cutter. He wrapped a roll of packing tape around his forearms, creating a makeshift layer of "armor" against bites.
He took a deep breath. He didn't have a map. He didn't have a quest. He just had 500 meters between his truck and the convenience store across the street.
He opened the back door. The cold air rushed in, carrying the metallic scent of blood.
Han-su stepped out. The "Delivery Man" was gone. The Scavenger was born.
Survival Status
Condition: Exhausted / Dehydrated
Weapon: Heavy Frying Pan (Durability: High)
Armor: Packing Tape Vambraces
Current Goal: Reach the 24-hour convenience store for supplies.