Dohyun exited the alley, the scent of antiseptic wiping fluid competing with the lingering metallic scent of the kill. He felt the residual hum of the Level 2 upgrade—a subtle, reassuring increase in his body's responsiveness. He was faster, sharper, and utterly ruthless.
His new tool, the System, was already demanding attention.
"New Function Unlocked: System Store. Accessing Store requires [System Coins], earned by eliminating infected entities. Note: System Store will remain inactive until the initial infection surge begins (Approx. December 20th)."
The disappointment was sharp. No instant gratification. The System was a long-term investment. He needed the coins, which meant he needed the apocalypse. But the gear was locked behind the zombie horde.
Fine, Dohyun thought, hailing a taxi. I'll build the fortress first. Then I'll collect the currency.
His immediate goal was the Civil Defense Bunker in the northern suburbs. The asking price was 50 million won. He had secured roughly 5 million from his own accounts and the dead trafficker. He needed 45 million more, and he needed it now before the broker realized his accomplice was missing.
He looked down at his phone, his mind already formulating a plan so audacious, so devastatingly cruel to the world he was about to save, that it made his previous actions seem like petty theft.
The system might not give him coins for the living, but it had given him Perception 16 and Agility 10.
He began typing furiously, calculating his limits. South Korea's highly connected banking system was about to become his personal ATM.
"The banks are going to fail anyway," he muttered to himself, a grim justification. "Better I use their capital than some oligarch."
The Financial Heist
Dohyun spent the next hour working from a secure café, bouncing his signal through three different VPNs. The plan was to exploit the country's easy access to short-term micro-loans, credit apps, and digital bank financing.
Phase 1: Max Out.
He focused on five different mobile banking apps, three short-term credit companies, and his four existing credit cards. He didn't care about his credit score; debt would cease to exist in six months. Using his new Agility-fueled reflexes, he navigated the complex verification systems.
Target 1: Student Loan: Maxed out at 15 million won.
Target 2: App Loans (3 companies): 5 million won each. Total 15 million won.
Target 3: Credit Card Cash Advances (4 cards): 4 million won total.
Within 90 minutes, his total available balance had exploded. He had just 34 million won in unsecured, immediate cash, all transferred to a single, anonymous digital wallet.
Total Funds Secured: 39 million won. (5 million initial + 34 million debt).
It was short. He needed 11 million more. He had to be ruthless.
He opened his mother's bank app, which he had access to from years ago when he helped her with her online taxes. He quickly transferred the remaining 11 million from her emergency savings to his digital wallet.
The guilt was a physical blow, harder than any zombie's strike. He had betrayed the one person he was trying to save.
"I will replace it," he promised the empty chair across from him, his voice thick. "I'll replace it a hundred times over when the world is safe."
The Broker's Snare
With the 50 million won secured, Dohyun finally called the "Broker" contact from the dead trafficker's phone.
"You're late," a deep, smooth voice answered immediately. The tone was professional, but there was an undercurrent of menace. "The Civil Defense property. It's up for auction due to a legal settlement. The price is now 90 million won, cash upfront."
Dohyun felt his blood run cold. They weren't just demanding more; they were testing him. The Broker wasn't selling the property; he was shaking down a desperate fool who had just executed one of their low-level operatives.
"I have 50 million," Dohyun stated, keeping his voice low and firm. "That's the listed price and more than enough to cover the back taxes."
"The market changed, kid," the Broker chuckled, a sound that grated on Dohyun's nerves. "And one of my... associates... seems to have disappeared. You're buying the bunker, but you're also buying silence. Ninety million, delivered in two hours, or the deed goes to someone less... complicated."
The sheer audacity of the demand—a forty-million-won tax for the murder he had just committed—was stunning.
This is Hyuk-jin's influence, Dohyun realized. They are running a protection racket on a property that's about to become the most valuable asset in the region.
He didn't hesitate. He wasn't playing the System now; he was playing the long game of survival.
"I'll meet your price," Dohyun said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "But I only deal face-to-face. No more drop-offs. Bring the authenticated deed, and I'll bring the cash. I know the legal process; no deed, no deal."
He named a rendezvous point: the upper level of an abandoned parking garage on the outskirts of the city—a wide-open, defensible space with multiple escape routes.
"Smart kid," the Broker purred. "But don't try anything clever. I'm bringing backup. You come alone. Two hours."
Dohyun hung up and immediately accessed his System Status.
"New Objective Generated: Acquire Civil Defense Bunker. Current Funds Secured: 50,000,000 KRW. Hostile Engagement Imminent: Threat Level (High). Reward: Secure Fortress."
He had two hours to get the final 40 million, retrieve his rifle, and prepare for a confrontation that would either secure his future or deliver him into the hands of Hyuk-jin's network.
What should Dohyun do to quickly acquire the remaining 40 million won—money he clearly doesn't have now—before the Broker meeting?