Chapter 28: Poison

The sushi restaurant owner who said he couldn’t sell pufferfish poison sighed deeply and irritably slammed down a fish. The flopping fish immediately went unconscious.

“Even those archers came asking for poison we’d throw away anyway. But I use farmed pufferfish. No poison.”

“Ah…”

Lost in various thoughts, I lifted my head.

I’d been thinking of ways to get pufferfish poison from this formidable owner. Since they’d throw away pufferfish innards as regular trash, I’d planned to scavenge by simply taking the garbage bags.

But if there was no poison to begin with, it wouldn’t work. I immediately changed direction and asked:

“Then do you know any restaurants that use wild pufferfish?”

“Well. Even if there are any, supplies are so scarce these days.”

Slice slice slice-

The blade artistically prepared the fish, separating perfectly sized pieces of meat.

These were the movements of a master who’d invested time and passion in this work. Though even such a master seemed stressed, as a dark voice emerged:

“With zombies, supplies barely come in anyway. Can’t even do dine-in service, barely managing delivery quantities. Who knows how long business can last.”

The chef persisting with business even in the apocalypse voiced his livelihood struggles.

In that moment, the aspiring screenplay writer in me emerged. A life that couldn’t give up dreams and kept trying. That experience resonated with the chef.

‘If this person can’t get fish, wouldn’t he slice zombie sashimi?’

A strange scene appeared in my mind.

A city with dried up logistics. Streets with depleted food. In the only lit sushi restaurant, the owner smiled strangely while preparing zombies like pufferfish.

The zombie’s respiratory system has poison so it needs detoxifying, but this part is edible.

The owner with human organ tattoos instead of fish tattoos preparing zombie…

I involuntarily shuddered, then snapped back to reality. My voice came out regretfully:

“I wanted it as poison to feed zombies. Too bad.”

“If you’re looking for poison, wouldn’t mushrooms be better than fish? Even with fish, once logistics dry up we can’t get any.”

The owner glanced at me while neatly arranging sashimi in takeout containers.

Mushrooms, huh. True, this city had no ocean, and mushrooms that could be steadily gathered from mountains would be better.

As I was lost in thought, that’s when it happened.

Ding-a-ling, as the door bells rang several people burst in. Those who appeared to be this area’s vigilantes entered flashing fluorescent vests and removed their helmets.

“Hey owner. Bring out some good drinks and sashimi.”

“…You haven’t paid for last time’s tab either.”

The atmosphere turned ominous. The owner narrowed his eyes watching them, and the unwelcome guests who seemed more like thugs than vigilantes laughed while brandishing weapons.

“What’s to pay? We’re protecting your business. This is all possible because we kill zombies for you. Can’t be stingy about a few meals.”

Not vigilantes but more like a gang that emerged in this area, I see.

I examined their armament. Nothing special. Just leather jackets and crowbars.

‘The delivery vigilantes look stronger than this.’

No signs of potential to grow into a huge group like Pastor’s Hope Church either. No need to plan any weeding out.

I spoke casually to the owner:

“Owner. Please pack three portions of fresh fish. Ah, ocean fish please.”

Since I came all this way, might as well pack sashimi for the marauder family. Once logistics dry up, we won’t be able to eat it even if we want to.

“Yes. Order confirmed. I’ll prepare it after serving these people and finishing delivery orders, is that okay?”

“I can wait long.”

Time wasn’t an issue.

I needed to think about poisons obtainable long-term. Or poisons abundant in the city. Antifreeze wasn’t bad, but its lethal dose was 250ml – almost a whole bottle.

‘Are there usable poisons in hospitals or pharmacies? Something lethal in small amounts? Or mushrooms?’

As I tapped on my phone, an unwelcome guest approached me.

This middle-aged man who seemed to be the patrol leader of these vigilantes looked me over and held out a business card.

“Young friend. You look very capable. How about working with us?”

“…Work?”

I took the card and read it. Some grand title like committee member of this street’s safety committee. Basic scam technique, right? Impressive-sounding names.

“We’re people doing good work, you see? Safe streets from zombies! Helping store families maintain their livelihoods!”

The unwelcome guest sat right beside me, waving hands while persuading.

“But this work needs a lot of manpower. Young friend, what do you say? Can’t pay much, but you won’t go hungry.”

“No thanks. I’ll pass.”

I smirked and placed the business card on the table. But I remembered what I needed to. The address of these vigilantes’ headquarters.

I’d add them to the raid list if needed. That was their only value. Not real experts or real survivors.

But then, the business card on the table fluttered down and dropped to the floor. The unwelcome guest glared at that card, then spoke angrily:

“Young friend’s got no manners. When someone’s being so nice!”

Standing up to look down at me. Their weapon rose menacingly, and the seated vigilantes and the owner adding something to porridge glanced at me.

This was awkward.

‘No. Why did the card fall?’

Really unlucky. I’d tried to end this nicely.

I briefly considered. I had many weapons – which would be most appropriate now?

‘Better take out the water gun.’

I pulled out a small water gun and aimed at their head. Their face with mask lowered to eat.

The unwelcome guests stepped back seeing the water gun. In a normal world without madmen it might look like a joke, but not in this city at least.

“…Virus?”

“Yes. Remember that person spraying with a sprayer looking for antibodies? Good idea, right?”

A water gun mixed with zombie saliva after experiencing the wave. Perfect for a restaurant setting, no?

“Y-you, you crazy bastard! Terrorist?!”

“Put helmets on!”

The vigilantes hurriedly pulled up masks and put on helmets. Then approached threateningly waving weapons but.

I drew my gun with my other hand. A gun loaded with just three lethal rounds.

“Let’s just let this go. In times like these, getting heated means someone has to die.”

“You robbed the police?”

A voice seemingly unable to believe what they were seeing. The vigilantes stepped back.

“Boss. Let’s stop dealing with this crazy person? Shouldn’t mess with people like this.”

As if waiting for those words, the unwelcome guest turned away.

Tension dissolved. The unwelcome guest went to the opposite end of the table, and the sounds of the owner’s artistic cooking continued.

I sighed while tapping my phone searching mushroom information.

‘Really can’t figure out mushrooms.’

Couldn’t distinguish edible mushrooms from real poisonous ones. Might just end up feeding zombies for nothing.

Around then the food came out. The owner brought out large bowls of steaming porridge.

“Porridge made with seaweed and tender innards. Since it’s rainy and cold, I chose this to warm you up.”

“As expected of the owner. Never seen anyone cook as well as you in this area.”

The vigilantes with lowered helmets and masks wolfed down the food. Constantly glancing at me warily.

But it seemed their wariness was misplaced.

The unwelcome guests who were practically drinking the porridge, drinking sake, laughing and talking while putting sushi in their mouths, touched their lips and asked:

“By the way, what fish innards are in this porridge? It’s delicious.”

“Of course it is. It’s precious ingredients. Probably a taste you’ve never had before.”

“No wonder. The sushi wasn’t tasty.”

The owner observed the unwelcome guest with an indecipherable look. Like carefully watching a customer’s reaction to his cooking. Or like a cold mad scientist analyzing test subjects.

He said:

“Wild pufferfish innards. Is your mouth getting hard to move? Feeling nauseous?”

“What?”

The vigilantes’ movements froze. They stood up with eyes wide in shock looking at the chef. But it seemed the poison had already spread to their extremities.

Crash – two people collapsed.

The owner watched them as if fascinated.

“Maybe because I used way more than the lethal dose. Symptoms are appearing fast.”

“W-why, why.”

The unwelcome guest tried to speak, but the pronunciation was strange. Like their tongue had stiffened.

“Payment for the food. Since food meant for real customers went into troublemakers’ mouths, you have to pay the price. More importantly, how did it taste? I’ve never eaten wild pufferfish innards either.”

“Ick, iick.”

Krrk, the unwelcome guests and vigilantes moved like broken machinery. Paralysis.

The owner let out a regretful sigh.

“Really too bad. I wanted to hear that taste described.”

A crazy person. Is it the apocalypse? Madmen popping up everywhere.

The owner who’d hidden pufferfish poison to use alone drew his eerie knife, crossed the table, and slick – drew the knife across the unwelcome guest’s neck. The blade that naturally grazed like slicing sashimi precisely cut the carotid artery.

And as that blade turned toward the paralyzed vigilantes.

I stepped in.

“Owner. That’s not right.”

“…You wanted pufferfish poison? I’ll give you some, just don’t inter-“

“That’s not it. Won’t it look suspicious if they all die from knife cuts?”

Should help a bit in exchange for receiving poison. I took out my hammer, and with my other hand grabbed the crowbar from the unwelcome guest’s hand.

A voice burst out mixed with shock:

“Oh my god! The vigilantes turned into zombies! They killed each other! How tragic!”

The crowbar I raised high struck the face of the paralyzed struggling vigilante. The hook-like part hit their face, followed by bowls and hammers and other vigilantes’ weapons roughly stabbing into people.

In an instant the fancy sushi restaurant turned to chaos. Corpses scattered everywhere.

I marveled:

‘Poison really is best.’

Much safer than directly fighting even more opponents, right?

The owner let out a hollow laugh from behind. Whether amazement or shock, I couldn’t tell.

“Customer, what kind of work do you do?”

“I’m just a customer. Just give me the poison please. Don’t lie about not having any.”

The owner returned to the kitchen and put hidden pufferfish innards into takeout containers used for side dishes.

The back view of a master who’d dedicated his life to cooking.

I watched him quietly.

‘Recruitment is, impossible.’

Failed marauder candidate. Not because the chef lacked value, or his personality wasn’t marauder-like. This wasn’t that kind of problem. The owner had a dream.

A chef who enjoyed cooking, who enjoyed feeding his cooking to customers.

He would probably keep operating even in an apocalypse full of zombies. Because that was his dream.

‘Doesn’t fit with marauders.’

We marauders have no dreams. We’re beast-like humans surviving day by day. Castaways drifting in waves of virus and zombies.

Without dreams or hopes for self-actualization or future, facing immediate dangers and gathering resources needed for life – drifters.

But there were still things to learn from the owner.

Sudden realization struck.

‘Poison, disguise.’

The owner’s madness mixed with his chef’s dream. Pufferfish poison disguised as delicious food. Same for mushrooms and all poisonous organisms.

Simple viciousness means little. Appropriately disguised viciousness and madness are the light needed in this era. In other words, vision and leadership.

I slightly bowed my head, falling into thought.

‘What should the marauder group, what should I aim for?’

What direction to move in these disaster waves? Just wander aimlessly hitting incoming daily waves? A difficult question.

Around then the owner held out his hand to me. Pufferfish innards in disposable containers meant for miso soup or radish water kimchi.

“Won’t kill many. Tetrodotoxin’s lethal dose is 16mg but this is mixed with innards and blood. And with small doses, symptoms take 3 to 6 hours to appear.”

“Yes, I’ll use it well. …And when will my takeout order be ready?”

“I’ll clean the shop, later. Make yours first.”

The owner neatly disinfected his hands and knife, then started slicing sashimi again.

A peaceful atmosphere flowed through the daytime sushi restaurant.

Groups have poison-like humans. Humans who only ruin groups, provide no help, rather gradually drive groups to death.

Then what happens to groups after poison-like humans leave?

I got that answer from RiderZero.

“Hello, owner! I’m here for delivery, heh. Aren’t these the area vigilantes?”

RiderZero who came for order delivery showed surprise standing at the entrance. The owner spoke calmly:

“Someone suddenly turned zombie and they killed each other. Packing will take a little time, is that okay?”

“Of course! These people seemed nasty anyway, good riddance. …Oh, aren’t you Deacon Kwon?”

RiderZero whom I’d confirmed sat beside me. Taking off her helmet as if stifled, she examined me with round eyes.

“The church, no, community people really miss you. What have you been up to these days?”

“Just living. How’s the church?”

Hiding my grudge, I spoke to her. As if worried about the community I’d left. I was actually curious too.

Was it harvest time?

She laughed cheerfully:

“They’re doing amazingly well! I go around everywhere so I know – they’re the most properly prepared.”

“…Really?”

Why, why are they doing well? Doesn’t this make us marauder members seem like the group’s cancer cells? Me, the thieving elder, the electricity thief. They’re doing well just because we three left?

This made no sense.

“Do they handle zombie waves well?”

“They say waves don’t come anymore.”

…Don’t come? Why? Why? Why?

RiderZero explained casually:

“Seems they judged it impossible after one fight. That muscle zombie’s leading its group attacking elsewhere now. Plus the church building’s basically a fortress. Metal workers union? Someone who worked there joined and helped with armament.”

She precisely described the building’s features.

Molotov cocktails, slingshots, slingshot bolts, shields improvised from unused car doors and hoods. Above all, people’s faces were full of hope’s light, feeling belonging and unity.

I gaped, falling into shock. The Hope Community we left was doing very well. Really.