Chapter 27: I am practicing abstinence

It’s already been a week since we took down the Human Hunter.

The broadcasting station we’d visited, thinking it was a distress signal, held an unexpected Queen-class aberrant lifeform.

A single sucker punch nearly wiped us all out, but thanks to my flawless control, Levi’s heavy fists, and Serika’s perfectly timed “rear strike,” we all made it out alive.

And as a bonus, we got an unexpected reward.

Since our base still lacked a workshop, even defeating a Queen-class aberrant shouldn’t have allowed us to craft weapons or modify equipment.

I thought we’d just end up with more work and nothing to show for it.

But—

“Good thing it’s a broadcasting station.”

“Chanwoo?”

“What’s wrong? We should head out.”

In the original Star Child game, places like this—old ruins, especially broadcasting stations, research labs, and factories—were always packed with hidden loot.

“Not yet. I need to grab a few more things before we go.”

“Grab…?”

“I’m hoping there are still some usable power-storing batteries or residual circuits left.”

“……!”

Inside the ruined station, we found far more power components, spare batteries, and traces of ancient humanity than I’d expected.

Some were still functional, and we managed to gather a decent haul.

But the real surprise was Levi.

Faced with the Queen’s core, she—guided by some instinct even she couldn’t explain—absorbed part of its power.

A strange energy reaction.

A flash of white light at her fingertips.

A phenomenon I’d never seen, even in the original game.

The core was absorbed, the light faded, and Levi was as expressionless as ever.

Nothing seemed different, but something lingered.

One certainty: ‘This… is a ‘variable’ I’ve never seen before.’

Then there were the bodies of the androids, slaughtered by the Human Hunter.

No battle scars, no damage.

Their bodies were pristine, only their cores meticulously extracted, as if they’d quietly shut down.

They looked almost beautiful.

Sleeping faces, neatly folded hands, untouched clothing.

In the cold ruins, their remains lay like fallen flowers… no longer just “parts.”

They were unmistakably “those who died for humanity.”

“Levi, find a shovel?”

“No. But digging a meter deep by hand should suffice.”

“Wow.”

I was genuinely impressed.

Levi and Serika began digging graves—over ten of them, each about a meter deep—near the station entrance.

Meanwhile, I carefully carried the fallen androids outside and buried them, one by one.

“You all did well.”

As I quietly covered the last grave with soil, Levi and Serika tilted their heads in unison.

“Chanwoo, what exactly are you doing?”

“Why bury deactivated androids? Once the core is removed, they’re just waste.”

“Right. If they bothered you, I could’ve vaporized them with my laser.”

Of course.

To logical androids, the concept of a funeral would be foreign.

But I didn’t argue.

Instead, I stepped forward and gently patted their heads.

“This… is the bare minimum of respect for the dead.”

“Bare… minimum?”

“Respect…?”

“Yeah. These androids fought for us humans. So as a human, I want to honor their sacrifice.”

Levi and Serika still didn’t fully understand, but somewhere in their eyes, a flicker of something—tiny, but unmistakable—passed through.

***

After a brief moment of silence, we returned to the station, dismantled the power generators, and looted the components.

The result?

What used to take two months to charge now took less than half the time.

Our base was becoming a self-sustaining utopia.

“Power’s coming along smoothly, food stocks are stable…”

“Calculations indicate a 92.41% survival probability until we can contact R.P.M.”

Levi’s numbers were always reassuring.

Back at our base—a repurposed motel—we lived comfortably.

Smoked meat, clean water from the lake, and steadily accumulating power.

In this apocalypse, we were practically nobility.

Except for one… oddity.

“Hmm…”

“…”

“Hmmmm…”

Lately, Levi had started meditating.

Ever since absorbing the Human Hunter’s core, for some reason, she’d begun doing this—and not just for a day or two.

It’d been a full week.

“I’m gonna use the bathroom.”

“Chanwoo.”

“Yeah?”

“A reminder: ‘Self-relief’ is currently prohibited.”

“Uh… yeah.”

And that was the real problem.

It wasn’t just her practicing abstinence.

Levi was also fiercely blocking my “self-relief.”

And it wasn’t just a casual suggestion—she was dead serious.

With a stern face and a vow-like intensity, she pleaded, “Please, not now, Chanwoo.”

Levi couldn’t explain why.

But her gaze was unmistakable.

I could feel her sincerity, as if she’d grab my hand to stop me at any moment, and I couldn’t help but nod, guilt creeping in.

‘The real kicker?’

We’d originally promised to share each other’s breast milk and semen whenever we returned to this base!

In this apocalypse, a human and an android—we were supposed to be each other’s comfort, sharing sensations beyond mere survival.

Hell, after the last battle, Levi had unhesitatingly tried to pull my pants off.

The way she touched me, her gaze, her breath… it all felt so certain back then.

But now?

She’d locked herself into this rigid, untouchable abstinence mode.

She started meditating on her own and forbade me from so much as moving a finger.

‘What the hell changed?’

It’s not like her body was malfunctioning… if anything, she seemed too normal, which only made me more uneasy.

And so, a delicate imbalance and suppressed peace settled quietly between us.

***

Then one day—

“I’m here!”

“Huh?”

“What?!”

Serika, the tuna-can factory owner and now a VIP visitor to our base, barged in with arms full of loot bags, shamelessly invading our “little utopia.”

Without missing a beat, she announced:

“Hey, mind if I live here for a while?”

‘…And just like that, my peace began to crumble.’

‘A peaceful day.’

‘A quiet apocalypse.’

‘And now… an extra pair of breasts.’

“…We’re screwed.”

You’d think that meant a threesome was now possible.

Yeah, right.

As if Levi’s mysterious abstinence wasn’t bad enough, now we had this lunatic obstacle in the mix.

“Se—Serika?! Shouldn’t you be at the tuna-can base?!”

“Yep. Normally.”

“Then why the hell are you here?”

“Oh, well… let’s just say things got complicated? Life’s no fun if everything goes your way, right?”

Completely unbothered, she strolled into our four-person motel bedroom and dumped her belongings right in the middle of our shared bed.

“Ahem. So, I’ll be crashing here from now on, okay?”

Legs stretched out like she owned the place, she started unpacking as if it were nothing.

Levi and I were left speechless.

She’d basically moved in on the spot.

Then, like a bribe, Serika dropped something onto Levi’s trembling hands.

“Hey, Levi. Let’s get along, okay? Plenty of space, big bed—no need to fight.”

“What… is this?”

“A gift~ Ta-da! Sardine cans.”

“Sar… dine?”

“S-Sa… Sardines?!”

Levi’s eyes bulged, and I instinctively swallowed.

In this wasteland where even cheap tuna was a luxury, sardines were unheard of.

“Bet you’ve never had these, huh? Sardines are premium stuff.”

“…Do you have more?”

For a split second, Levi looked at Serika not as an intruder, but as a supplier.

“Serika, you’re amazing…”

“Hehe. R-Really? Well, there’s an abandoned fishery near the coast and the factory. Cleaned off the radiation, and voilà—edible sardines!”

From tuna-can production to personally scavenging sardines…

She was the true alchemist of canned food.

“But… why are you here? You always preferred being alone.”

“W-Well…”

“Correct. Leave. This is our territory. Mumble mumble… Go away…”

Levi’s words rejected her, but her hands were already opening the sardine can.

Serika avoided my gaze, staring out the window instead.

Her lips were as composed as ever, but her eyes flickered with hesitation—something unspoken lingered there.

She clearly had a reason for coming, but she acted like she’d just dropped by on a whim.

That only made it weirder.

It felt like the quiet hunger of someone who needed to be near you but wouldn’t say why.

***

Then, abruptly, the eerie peace shattered.

[…Help me…]

“Huh?”

“What the hell was that?”

From the corner of the room, an old TV—long since disconnected from any signal—crackled to life.

A woman’s voice, crystal clear, echoed through the static.

This wasn’t like the usual electronic noise.

This time… there was an image.

Flickering across the CRT screen, distorted by its age, red text slowly rose into view.