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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Zaped
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Just as an adult sumo wrestler would stand out among elementary school children, the gleaming bank vault stood out amidst the chaos of Lambert Village.
I drew my pistol and pressed myself against the wall, shuffling sideways like a crab.
I could hear voices coming from inside.
A woman’s voice, trembling with fear, pleading with someone.
“P-please… don’t do this…”
Her voice was barely a whisper, as if she were forcing the words out through clenched teeth.
“Don’t do what?”
A smooth, slithering voice, like a snake sliding into a mouse hole.
I cautiously peeked through the partially open door.
Rows of gleaming, rectangular safes filled the room, bathed in the warm glow of sunlight streaming through the barred windows.
A lone Lambert gang member stood guard, his back to me, his posture a grotesque display of arrogance.
He had leaned his rifle against the wall and was holding a hunting knife, his attention focused on something inside the vault.
Another reason to add to my kill list.
But then I saw the woman inside the vault, and all thoughts of violence vanished.
She was wearing an oversized shirt and blue cotton pants.
The reason for the loose-fitting shirt was obvious: she had a magnificent pair of breasts.
They were so captivating that my anger melted away.
Her head was small, tilted downwards, her face hidden behind a curtain of long, black hair.
Her eyes were a striking shade of green.
“Can you hear that? It’s over. We’re all going to die,” the gang member said, his voice a mixture of fear and resignation.
“…D-die? C-Cassandra… d-die?”
“Yeah. We’re going to turn into zombies and eat each other.”
“N-no… z-zombies… don’t work like that…”
I wasn’t the only one who found his statement absurd.
The gang member straightened up, his expression a mixture of confusion and annoyance.
But the woman, her voice still a whisper, continued to speak, her tone surprisingly firm.
“Z-zombies… they don’t… get infected like that… Y-you’re not even a zombie…”
She stood with her fists clenched, her arms pressed tightly against her sides, her posture a strange mix of defiance and vulnerability, like a small, frightened animal.
“U-unless… you were already infected… b-but injecting a corpse with the virus… won’t turn it into a zombie… A-are you… infected?”
“Look, who cares about that? We’re going to die. Both of us.”
“C-Cassandra… it’s not ‘look’… it’s Cassandra… Senior Researcher Cassandra… from the Disease Crisis Management Agency… A-anyway… we’re not going to die… and turn into zombies… Y-you’re wrong… You’re a liar… Cassandra knows…”
Her words were irrelevant.
I was mesmerized by the way her breasts jiggled with every slight movement, even the simple act of placing her hands on her hips.
The gang member seemed to share my fascination, momentarily speechless.
“So let’s do it one last time before we die!”
He lunged for the vault door, trying to pry it open.
“F-fuck… you!”
The woman kicked, her foot connecting with his groin.
The gang member doubled over, clutching his injured manhood.
She kicked again, harder this time. The knife clattered to the floor.
She snatched it up and plunged it into his groin.
“Aghhhh!”
Then she stabbed him in the neck.
“Y-you… crazy… bitch…”
“I-I’m not a bitch… I’m Cassandra… I told you… you stupid… mutt!”
“Damn… those tits…”
He breathed his last.
“They’re… pretty too…”
She raised the bloody knife, her left hand gripping the handle, her right hand bringing a finger to her mouth, her teeth gnawing on the tip.
Even in that awkward position, her breasts were still captivating.
No.
This wasn’t right. I had to pull myself together.
I couldn’t afford another misunderstanding like the one at the apple warehouse.
This woman, judging by her reaction to the jumper, was probably the original owner.
I removed my bandana and shrugged off the poncho, carefully placing them outside the vault before knocking politely on the door.
“Excuse me.”
“Eeeeek!”
“Cassandra, right?”
I held the M4 in one hand, the rifle in the other, muzzles pointed towards the ceiling, trying to convey my peaceful intentions.
The woman, still clutching the bloody knife, continued to gnaw on her finger.
“A-are you here to kill me too…? Or… are you going to… do things to me… before you kill me…? That jumper…”
“This is yours, right? I came to return it. You said it was stolen.”
I did a little twirl, showcasing the Disease Crisis Management Agency jumper.
Cassandra’s expression didn’t improve.
Had I done something wrong?
“A-are you crazy?”
“…Excuse me?”
“Or… a pervert? W-what’s with the backpack? A-are you the Schoolgirl Backpack Man?”
“Life has taken some unexpected turns.”
I really needed to get rid of this damn backpack.
And why hadn’t I found a decent replacement yet?
“G-give it back.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do. But you’re making me nervous with that knife.”
“Y-you have guns.”
“Yes, but your knife is dripping with blood. Mine aren’t.”
“Hey, what’s going on in there?”
A gruff voice from outside.
“Excuse me.”
The vault door was thick.
I crouched down, poked the barrel of the M4 through the partially open door, and fired.
“Agh!”
Before they could return fire, I squeezed the trigger again, and again.
“Aghhhh!”
Cassandra screamed, her body trembling.
“It’s okay.”
There didn’t seem to be anyone else approaching, but I couldn’t let my guard down.
“Bug! Get it off! There’s a bug on me! I hate bugs! I hate them!”
There was a spider on her back.
A big one. But that wasn’t the main issue.
This woman seemed… off.
I could tolerate stupidity.
I could endure evil.
But I couldn’t handle weird.
Even if it came with a pair of bouncing breasts and a tendency to spin around dramatically.
“Wow, that’s a big spider. Where did it even come from?”
“Aghhhh!”
Her shirt, damp with sweat, clung to her body, revealing the straps of her black bra.
The spider, the size of my palm, was crawling towards them.
I couldn’t just stand there and watch.
“Stay still.”
I swatted the spider off her back with the butt of the M4, crushing it under my boot.
“D-dead?”
“Yes.”
I wrapped my arm around her neck, applying just enough pressure to render her unconscious.
I had done this enough times to know exactly how much force to use. She slumped to the ground.
I whistled cheerfully as I opened the safes one by one.
“Jackpot.”
Gems spilled out, sparkling in the sunlight.
I stuffed them into my backpack.
Gold jewelry was especially valuable: lightweight and high-priced.
I also grabbed some cash, just in case.
I hoped there was still a black market somewhere.
I collected USB drives and hard drives as well.
These were a gamble.
Leaked information could be incredibly valuable, like a treasure map leading to hidden stashes of weapons and supplies.
For example, a file titled “Suspicious activity observed at the Lambert outskirts industrial complex” could indicate a hidden cache of illegal weapons or food.
“…Ow…”
I shivered.
“Ugh, my head… I must have dozed off…”
The woman was stirring, slowly rising to her feet.
She was still holding the bloody knife.
Strange.
I had knocked her out cold.
How was she awake?
“Did you… get the bug?”
“Of course. Look at the floor.”
“Oh.”
There was a cracking sound.
She was adjusting her neck, her movements unsettlingly precise.
“You’re a thief, aren’t you? Cassandra saw you. You were stealing from the vault. Stealing is wrong.”
The tip of the knife pressed against my throat. I swallowed hard.
“…Want to share?”
“Cassandra has plenty of money. I don’t need yours. Give me your clothes.”
“I can’t give you my clothes with a knife at my throat.”
“Oh, right.”
She stepped back, her expression surprisingly reasonable. She tilted her head, her green eyes studying me intently.
She was beautiful, but my gaze kept drifting towards her chest.
Because they were large?
Yes, they were large, but that wasn’t all.
Her eyes were unsettling.
They were swirling, hypnotic, drawing me in.
I felt like I was staring into a bottomless pool, a watery abyss that threatened to drag me down, my legs entangled in seaweed.
I removed my backpack and handed her the Disease Crisis Management Agency jumper.
She inspected it, then slipped it on, zipping it up to her chin.
Her expression softened slightly.
Sniff. Sniff.
“…Sorry. I’m a bit sweaty.”
“You smell good. You’re a healthy man.”
She stepped closer, her demeanor strangely relaxed.
Was my scent really that appealing?
I couldn’t imagine it being anything other than sweat and grime.
“Cassandra likes this jumper. It keeps her breasts from bouncing around. Women don’t like it when people stare at their chests. Remember that.”
Her tone was gentler now, almost conversational.
But she didn’t need to hold a knife to my throat to make her point.
“…Alright, alright. Let’s loot the rest of the vault.”
“Okay.”
She had changed her mind, but I didn’t argue.
This woman, despite her eccentricities, seemed to have a good eye for valuables.
She dismissed some items with a sniff, tossing them aside.
“Why did you throw that away? It looked valuable.”
“Fake gems. I can tell. Real gems have imperfections, tiny flaws deliberately introduced by the craftsmen. Like a signature, invisible to the untrained eye.”
I couldn’t tell if she was bluffing, so I retrieved the discarded gem.
She didn’t seem to mind.
She even placed it carefully on a nearby desk instead of tossing it back at me.
She was a good woman.
I collected more USB drives, their contents unknown, and more gems.
I opened a desk drawer and found a car key.
“Cash transport vehicle key.”
Excellent. T
hese vehicles were heavily armored, spacious, and perfect for hauling loot.
“Well, I’ll be going now.”
She grabbed my arm as I turned to leave.
“Are you… leaving Cassandra behind?”
A shiver of apprehension ran down my spine.
I blurted out a “no” before I could even think.
“I’ll escort you outside.”
“Take Cassandra with you.”
“Your friends are waiting for you. You should go back to them.”
“…I’ll let you touch my breasts.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’ll let you touch my breasts if you take Cassandra with you. I don’t want to see those idiots again. Cassandra is a skilled doctor. She can survive anywhere. But she’s not going back to the Disease Crisis Management Agency.”
“If I travel with you, I’ll be the one starving. I don’t have much food.”
“…Didn’t you hear? Cassandra is rich. I’ll feed you. I have a house in the city. I’ll give you food, shelter, access to a bathroom, and you can touch my breasts. Just take Cassandra with you.”
She bit her lip, her red lipstick leaving a faint smudge.
“Please. I’m begging you. You can touch them now, if you want. Here.”
“Why are you so obsessed with your breasts?”
“Because Cassandra is desperate. I know how men and women look at my breasts. They all want them. You do too. But I’ve never let anyone touch them. Except you. This is your chance.”
“Why me?”
“You smell good. You’re safe. You won’t try to eat Cassandra.”
Choking her wouldn’t work.
And judging by her fighting skills, a physical confrontation wouldn’t end well either.
I would just have to ditch her later.
“Alright. Let’s do it.”
“Touch them over my clothes. Gently. Don’t squeeze. It hurts.”
The fabric of her jumper was smooth and cool against my fingertips.
Actually, traveling with her might not be such a bad idea.
In this harsh world, it was good to have someone you could trust… to touch.
Of course, I was a firm believer in fair trade.
“Cassandra, right?”
“Yes.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Johan. You can touch my chest too. It’s only fair.”
She didn’t hesitate. She squeezed my chest, her expression impassive.
“Smaller than Cassandra’s, but firm. I like it.”
“I like yours too. By the way, I need help carrying some heavy stuff. Are you strong?”
“Why?”
“We need to load it into the car. We need food, ammo…”
I gestured towards the boxes of food and ammunition scattered on the floor.
There were even some new-looking firearms.
Cassandra shook her head, then disappeared into a side room, returning moments later with a hand truck.
“Wow.”
“Cassandra is smart.”
“You are. Good job. You can touch my chest as a reward.”
Her fingers were long and slender, but I noticed the bruises on the back of her hand, the telltale marks of intravenous injections. She wasn’t a drug addict.
She was something far more dangerous.
“Firm. Good job. There you go. From now on, we’ll greet each other with a chest squeeze.”
“Okay.”
We loaded the boxes onto the hand truck.
She was efficient, strong, and surprisingly cheerful.
And she had a fantastic pair of breasts that she was willing to let me touch.
My instincts, honed by years of avoiding scams, screamed at me.
This woman was trouble. I would ditch her as soon as we were done loading the car.
Just then, a red glow illuminated the barred windows.
It wasn’t a fire.
It was a flare.
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Survival<Boobies
A fair(but extremely weird) transaction…