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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Zaped
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The main tasks were finished.
I had successfully met the contact and gained their favor.
From now on, maintaining a steady trade relationship was all that mattered.
They liked drinking, so future dealings should go smoothly.
There was a minor commotion with zombies, but it wasn’t a big deal.
Zombie birds, dogs, and cats approaching?
So what?
What could they possibly do?
Besides scratching and pecking at the walls with their claws and beaks, they weren’t much of a threat.
Humans, on the other hand, were the real problem.
Frightened and panicking, yet holding semi-automatic pistols.
Bullets, after all, were the kind of tool that even a monkey could use to commit mass slaughter if it knew how to pull a trigger.
I decided to hide Letty in the women’s restroom and headed to the men’s restroom myself. I’d stay there until the crowd had evacuated.
A buzzing sound.
My phone vibrated. It was a message from Camilla—three messages, actually.
“You’re okay, right? Everything’s fine here. Don’t worry.”
“There’s an alert about zombie birds swarming. You’ve heard about it, right? Are you safe?”
“…You are safe, right? Please tell me you are.”
I replied quickly:
“I’m fine. I’m indoors, in a safe place. I’ll be back soon. I’m setting my phone to silent since zombies are nearby.”
Message Sent.
The outside situation didn’t seem ideal, but there was work to do.
I checked to ensure all the shop staff had evacuated, then took a slow look around inside.
No one was there.
It was collection time.
First, I grabbed a large black backpack.
I carefully removed the textbooks and notebooks inside and placed them on a chair.
Judging by the detailed notes, someone had put a lot of effort into studying.
Taking such things would make me a terrible person.
At the table, I started hoarding cookies and pies.
Some tasted good, others not so much.
I picked a variety, keeping in mind Camilla’s love for whipped cream.
Next stop: the counter.
I stuffed rolled-up Elza and Roemer currency into the bag.
Roemer currency, being a reserve currency akin to the dollar, held value everywhere.
Elza currency was slightly less prestigious but still widely accepted in the city.
I could use it at the Continental Hotel.
Of course, just taking it would be stealing, which isn’t my style.
I left a gemstone on the counter as payment.
Taking cash but leaving jewels made it a “trade.”
Though… wasn’t this the gem Cassandra called fake?
Whatever.
I believed it was real, so it was.
Bang!
The women’s restroom door suddenly swung open. I ducked beneath the counter.
Out came my trading partner, dragging a steel pipe across the floor.
Shoulder-length blonde hair, blue eyes, and a teardrop-shaped beauty mark beneath her right eye.
It was her.
“She’s prettier than I thought.”
Without her glasses and makeup, she was surprisingly attractive.
But she was wearing military fatigues.
Had she been wearing those beneath her clothes the whole time?
“Actually, I’m a hero, y’know?”
“She’s crazier than I thought.”
What kind of life does someone lead to end up wearing casual clothes over a military uniform?
This was someone to deal with only for business, not friendship.
She dragged her pipe out of the shop. Loud yelling came from outside.
“I’m Leticia, Intelligence Officer of the 8th National Gendarmerie Special Missions Unit!”
So her impressive leg-sweeping skills made sense. She was a soldier—no, a high-ranking officer.
I decided it was best to keep talk of her to a minimum when chatting with Camilla.
Still, what if it wasn’t her?
What if it had been someone else in that restroom by chance?
I peeked into the women’s restroom. Clothes were strewn across the floor. On the mirror, red lipstick scrawled a message:
“Don’t worry about me. Looking forward to our next date! :)”
Definitely not someone to get too close to.
Loud announcements blared outside:
“Civilians, evacuate to the top floor! The 14th Gendarmerie will fortify defenses on the top and penultimate floors!
Dismantle all bridges connecting to the central zone! Loosen the screws, toss the bridges, and seal the doors! Move it!”
The sound of stairwells opening and the orderly chants of “Order! Order!” echoed.
Civilians climbed the stairs, escorted by soldiers.
They weren’t just reckless drunks after all.
The top floor was the safest, and gathering civilians there simplified management.
Soldiers stationed on the floor below could easily defend against zombie animals or infected attackers, given the narrow stairways and escalators as chokepoints.
Even if the defenses were breached, dismantling the bridges ensured no internal infections.
It also motivated soldiers and civilians with a clear goal: “This must be held.”
“Impressive.”
It reminded me of the 8th Gendarmerie Special Missions Unit, like Leticia and that silver-haired, violet-eyed woman.
Something about them seemed oddly intertwined with my fate.
Dealing with military personnel felt tricky.
They weren’t typically involved in black-market dealings, but Leticia’s rank suggested otherwise.
I needed to keep a safe yet beneficial distance.
“Like baking an apple pie. Overbake it, and it burns; underbake it, and it’s flavorless.”
Maintaining the right balance was key.
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