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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Zaped
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“I’m glad I could share this with you. It felt like I was being accepted.”
A different kind of excitement stirred within me, unlike the one I felt when I saw her body. It was the first time I’d felt this way.
I was hungry, but I instinctively tilted Camilla’s head back. She looked surprised and shy, but her eyes sparkled with anticipation.
Would kissing her cool down the heat? With a slightly selfish thought, I kissed her. Camilla’s calloused hands caressed my neck and back.
“Haah.”
Even after I pulled away, my breath was still caught in my throat. I couldn’t look directly at her. I felt strangely embarrassed. But if I stayed too close, I wouldn’t be able to leave on time.
“I… I’m sorry. Let’s get ready.”
Camilla held me back, kissing me lightly. Very briefly.
“…Yes.”
I reluctantly pulled away, but it felt like she was as thirsty as I was.
…I was sure I had.
“…Wow.”
Standing before me was a man I had no desire to be near.
“What is this… special makeup?”
“Are you an idiot?”
It was Camilla’s voice, but… I couldn’t believe my eyes.
First, his hair was completely different. Her hair, which reached down to her chest, was now an oily ponytail, typical of a ne’er-do-well. It looked like he’d haphazardly cut it and tied it back with a rubber band, clearly trying to save on a haircut.
“Ah, this? Cooking oil.”
“…What’s the white powder?”
“A bit of bread crumbs? Looks like dandruff, doesn’t it?”
His face was covered in freckles, his eyebrows were drawn together like seagulls’ wings, and I had no idea where he got those thick, round glasses. They were more like bicycle tires than glasses.
“…How did you do your body?”
“I can’t hide my chest. It’s a bit… well, you know. So, what else could I do? I had to make my stomach look bigger. I hid a stab vest and a knife. Just put this scarf around my neck and I’m good to go. Ah, this is good.”
He wrapped a scarf around his neck that read, “Love the Burtmac Mountains.” The man I knew had completely vanished. He looked like a complete slob, someone who never exercised, just lounging around the house all day.
“Ah. But… I’m a bit stuffy.”
“Because of your stomach?”
“No. My chest. I’m wearing so many layers… I think I’m sweating.”
Camilla licked her lips slightly. My blood surged, not to my lower body, but to my fists. He looked exactly like that nuisance from the apartment above us.
“Hmm. A bit lacking.”
But she still looked in the mirror with dissatisfaction. Then she took out a chocolate bar and bit into it.
“…What are you doing?”
“I’m going to put some around my mouth later.”
She was a pro. Camilla was truly a pro. A top model wasn’t just about a pretty face.
“Hey, what’s that smell?”
“Today’s breakfast, mackerel in a can. You should put some on too. It’s edible oil. And it’ll fade a bit after a while.”
“Me too?”
Instead of answering, she dipped her finger into the can. She came closer and mussed up my hair. The fishy smell hit me, but I felt strangely exhilarated seeing myself transform into a handsome man in the mirror.
“Ah, while I’m at it, let’s trim your eyebrows.”
Only Camilla would use a surgical scalpel to trim eyebrows. I don’t know how she did it, but my forehead and the bridge of my nose felt much wider.
“Good. I’ll take care of your grooming from now on. Oh, and that hair, it’s set with oil, so it’ll loosen up if you splash some water on it. If you need to escape, use some water from your canteen. It’ll cause some confusion.”
*
I securely locked the safe house door. I covered the floor with mats soaked in mud. Remembering how hollow it sounded when I stepped on it, I also laid down some metal sheets.
I left the truck at the fire station garage. If something was going to be stolen, let it be stolen. I could get another one. I just hoped that any looters would be distracted by the truck and pass by the safe house.
“Let’s go.”
Instead, I acquired a car. It was just big enough for six grown men to lift and carry. The colorful warning lights welcomed me, but I didn’t mind. I would abandon it on the highway when I met up with the contact.
I packed some small jewelry and half of our alcohol supply, keeping different types. I also packed our phones, laptops, and two boxes of canned food. They were canned meat from the Kibele company, which I would give them as a fee.
I took a shortened KS-74U rifle and a 1911 pistol. Both were designed for portability. Camilla strapped a hunting knife to her waist and carried a Rock 17 pistol and an M4 carbine.
Gun ownership was quite common, and even in the city, people were bitten by zombies, so carrying weapons wasn’t a problem.
However, inside the city, rifles had to be kept in a carrying case, and only pistols could be drawn.
“Trick.”
Camilla explained the reason in one word.
“The National Guard doesn’t distinguish between zombies and Elsa people. If they see a zombie, they just shoot. Then they’ll claim, ‘These people were armed, attacked the Guard, and we acted in self-defense.’
They did the same thing when they massacred the Liberation Army members. They didn’t care if there were civilians present. They just said they were forced to open fire because zombies were attacking people. The newspapers happily reported it.”
“What did it say?”
“Collateral damage.”
That was the reality of the city we were about to enter.
If I understood Camilla correctly, entering the protected zone without a personal ID was like trying to get a digital certificate without an ID card.
It’s difficult for a regular company to verify individuals. There are legal issues and, most importantly, it’s expensive. So, they “circumvent” the system.
‘No problems on your end? Then we’ll accept you on this end.’
But what if you haven’t been verified anywhere? It’s like an endless loop of referrals. This department tells you to get confirmation from that department, and that department tells you to get confirmation from someone else.
In other words, if you can just get inside the “fence,” you can break through anything.
And the brokers were the ones who helped you get over that “fence.”
“Here they come.”
As we waited beneath a giant billboard that read, “Reading is the Duty of an Elsa Citizen,” a six-passenger van approached, spewing black smoke. Camilla and I drew our weapons and aimed at the van.
The van stopped. A woman as imposing as two men combined and a man who could probably handle her stepped out. They were both armed with K-47 rifles, which looked like toys in their hands.
“Milan, right? The tall guy is Caesar.”
Milan was Camilla’s alias, and Caesar was the name I had chosen.
“Yeah.”
Camilla was chewing on chocolate, making her speech a bit slurred. The man and woman aimed their guns at us, and we aimed back.
The man slowly pulled out an infrared thermometer from his waist. “Just a formality. You know the drill.” He aimed the beam at our foreheads. He tilted his head, then aimed it at his wife.
“…Doesn’t the air conditioning work in this car?”
The man shook his head in confusion.
“Why not?”
“Their temperature is a bit high, but your wife’s is high too, so it’s probably fine. What about the goods?”
“In the trunk. It’s open.”
The imposing woman circled us with her rifle pointed at us. Camilla’s gun followed her every move. The woman, who could probably lift a continent on her shoulders, picked up the box of canned food.
“I heard you’re getting a car in the city.”
The man asked. I nodded. He spread out his palm and counted down his fingers. When all his fingers were closed, we lowered our guns.
“Let’s go.”
We packed our things and got into the van.
“Wait a moment.”
I handed the imposing woman a bottle of port wine that I had prepared earlier. It was a bribe.
She looked me up and down indifferently, snatched the bottle, popped the cork with her bare hands, and drank it like juice.
“Khh…”
Finally, she smiled.
“I get hungry as soon as I get here. What about you guys? Especially you, Shorty. You look like you can eat a horse.”
“Want some chocolate?”
“Sure.”
Camilla handed her the half-eaten chocolate bar. The woman ate half and gave the rest to the man. He also smiled.
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