A Korean Office Worker Who Became a Nuisance Villainess in a Zombie Story - Chapter 73

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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“There are traces of magical healing on the bones in this broth.”
“You mean….”
“Yes. Your suspicion is correct.”
“Good heavens.”
My jaw fell open before I could stop it, and I covered my mouth with my hand.
I’d suspected as much because of the ‘gall stone,’ but truly?
“How could a person….”
Wait a moment.
What had that dwarf Thug said earlier?
“…Just now, the Local Lord’s subordinate mentioned it. He said they discovered strange people in the forest and killed them.”
Filthy clothing, blue-tinged faces. People who didn’t flee even after being struck by arrows.
If that’s the case….
“…They mistook zombies for humans and hunted them….”
“And boiled them as spoils into this soup.”
“Ugh.”
I felt like I might vomit.
I looked down at the bowl.
Murky broth, grease floating on the surface. The meat clinging to the bones had been boiled so thoroughly that it would fall apart at the slightest touch of a finger.
Noticing my face had gone pale, Praha quickly took the soup bowl from me and set it far away.
“Are you alright?”
“Yes, I’m fine.”
I’m fine.
But….
“Your Highness, the portions being served to the people in the Prison right now—that’s all there is. Just broth, no meat. So what about the rest…. In other words, the lean meat….”
“The Local Lord’s subordinates must be eating it.”
How horrifying.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
Clang.
Just then, a sound came from the Adjacent Room next to the Prison where we were.
The prisoners—those who had been suppressing their presence to avoid drawing attention and suffering—were rushing toward the meat soup placed before them.
‘I can’t even fathom how long these people have been imprisoned here.’
People who had grown famished waiting for a meal that was unusually late today.
The meat soup placed before them.
I rushed to the iron bars and cried out.
“Don’t eat that!”
Clang, clang.
The iron bars I gripped rattled violently.
“Hey! Can you hear me?! Don’t eat that!”
“….”
“That’s not chicken!”
There was no response.
Everyone in this Prison had their tongues cut out, leaving them unable to answer.
Yet they did not stop moving toward the soup.
If they still possessed the ability to speak, what would they have said?
You don’t believe me?
Or does it not matter?
Has every meal distributed to them since being locked in this Prison been like this?
“I’m serious! That’s contaminated meat! I don’t know what will happen if you eat it!”
“….”
“Are you listening to me?!”
“….”
Still, there was no response.
Yet the sounds of movement did not cease.
Clatter.
Thud.
The sounds of those with broken legs, those who had suffered in agony after their tongues were severed, those who had starved for lack of proper meals since their confinement—all reaching toward the food before them.
“Wait!”
The wasted prisoners did not believe the words of this stranger who had entered the room for the first time today.
Clatter.
I heard the creaking and clanging of an unknown number of people gathering bowls in their hands.
I cannot see.
All I hear are sounds.
“…!”
“…!”
“…ugh!”
Over the meager soup, I heard them pushing and falling as they fought among themselves.
Crash.
Blood flowed from the Prison to my left.
The crimson stream traced the cracks in the floor, flowing all the way to my feet.
Slurp.
Someone who had won the struggle made a sound of sucking through their lips instead of a tongue.
“This cannot be….”
“Yusara.”
“….”
“It is already over.”
Praha, who had placed his hand on my shoulder from behind, quietly shook his head.
I crumbled.
I could not accept it.
I could only stare blankly at the red blood on the floor.
How much time had passed like this.
The transformation had begun.
“….”
“….”
Crunch. A grotesque sound of bones twisting unnaturally.
“Ugh….”
A person transforming.
Those who had been unable to eat their soup, overwhelmed by the force, began to panic at their neighbor’s sudden change, their frantic movements audible.
And a few minutes later.
“…Ughhhh!”
“…Ugh?”
Crunch.
Clang!
Clang clang clang!
The terrified prisoners began shaking the bars of the Prison that confined them. Sounds of pushing, dodging, and striking filled the air as they resisted.
It was futile.
Neither the zombies nor their victims could produce proper sounds. Only the clanging of metal bars echoed through the darkness.
I covered my ears.
Until the noise subsided.
It took a considerable time before I lifted my head again.
“….”
“….”
“Your Majesty.”
“Yes.”
Clang!
In response to my voice, people hurled their bodies against the metal bars.
People who had become zombies.
I spoke calmly.
“If the same meal had been served for dinner upstairs, everyone up there would be zombies by now.”
“Yes.”
“If the defenseless Marquis Prome returns and opens the doors of this Mansion where we’re trapped, the zombies will pour out…. Mount Prome will descend into chaos. We must escape first and seal this Mansion.”
Until now, I had considered waiting for Cyprus to arrive, but my thoughts had changed.
Praha simply nodded without further question at my assessment.
“Understood.”
Praha glanced at the firmly locked Prison door and spoke.
“Thirty minutes should suffice.”
Thirty minutes later.
“Do you remember the self-defense technique I taught you before?”
Praha, who had pried open the lock with a short blade hidden between his shoes, turned to me and asked.
While Praha wrestled with the Prison door, I tore open the body bag he had folded and fashioned makeshift armor by wrapping it around my limbs, responding to his question.
“A method so impressive—I couldn’t forget it.”
It’s also a method I’ve been wanting to try on Lord Promé.
‘If I wrap this cloth around my arm, it might block a zombie bite once. As long as the teeth don’t pierce through.’
Which is harder—escaping from living humans, or escaping from zombies tearing each other apart?
As I pondered this, Praha spoke.
“There’s something I failed to mention at the time.”
Clang.
After tossing aside the broken short sword, Praha delivered one final powerful kick to the bars, and the lock tumbled outward with a clatter.
The noise sent the zombies into another frenzy.
“Fighting is a last resort.”
“What do you mean?”
“There’s nothing to gain from trying to overcome a madman. Fighting is the final and worst option when no other path remains. The best choice is to flee.”
Praha’s amber eyes gleamed as he turned toward me.
The light was far brighter than the torches hanging on the walls.
In this Mansion shrouded in darkness, it was the only light I could trust and follow.
“I’m not telling you to flee because you’re weak. I’m recommending it because it’s the wisest course.”
“….”
“So if anything unexpected happens upstairs, don’t fight. Flee. As far as you can.”
“….”
“Don’t get hurt.”
I asked Praha, who spoke to me with such earnest eyes.
“Will you flee as well?”
“Yes. I’ll flee as shamefully as possible.”
A man who, despite being unarmed now and bearing bruises on his face, could still single-handedly crush every person in this Mansion, spoke these words.
That he would flee.
“Even if you see people trapped in the Adjacent Room who’ve become zombies through no fault of their own, don’t waver. Think only of escape. I’ll do the same.”
“….”
“Prioritize survival, abandon pride.”
“….”
“It won’t be a particularly manly display.”
Praha declared this without a trace of shame.
That he would act shamefully.
Watching him, I recalled that he was a war hero who had survived hundreds of battles since his teens, never retreating once in any of them.
And now this man said he would flee.
From a situation that was nothing compared to the wars he’d endured.
“…May I ask why you’ve decided to act this way?”
“Because I have something to lose now.”
“….”
“In truth, I even considered whether I should display my fighting prowess for the sake of my dignity.”
“….”
“But I won’t risk your safety for my pride.”
“….”
“I’ll cowardly run away, so you should do the same.”
“….”
“Please don’t try to save me if I fall into danger.”
If only he hadn’t said that last part, I might have wavered.
Without responding, I held out the rough cloth in my hand. When Praha refused to take it, I grabbed his wrist directly and wrapped it around carefully as I spoke.
“Did you know? Many scientists don’t recognize bite marks as evidence of identification—what they call tooth marks.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. Which means, even if we get bitten by someone here and become zombies, it’s difficult to catch the culprit based on bite marks alone.”
Why does he keep flinching? Is my hand cold?
“If we die and can’t even find the culprit, it’s unfair, isn’t it? So let’s not get bitten and both make it out alive.”
Praha, who had been staring down at my hand as I ignored his words and said something else entirely, asked me a question.
“Why are your fingers like this?”
“Oh, this? They got bent backward.”
The Baroness Promé was so strong. I grimaced sheepishly, wrinkling the bridge of my nose.
The joints were only slightly swollen—barely noticeable—yet he managed to spot it.
After wrapping the rough cloth around Praha’s wrist, I withdrew my hand, but Praha gently grasped my retreating fingers. His lips touched the swollen knuckles.
“I won’t let the Baroness Promé get away with this.”
“How exactly won’t you let her get away with it?”
“Well, I suppose I’ll bite her.”
“Good grief.”
Why does he keep pushing this puppy concept?
I pulled my hand away. Praha’s face followed my hand persistently, and he kissed my knuckles several more times.
“It tickles.”
“Understood.”
“That means stop, you know?”
“Ah.”
“….”
I know this isn’t the time to say this, but I have to anyway.
When I first set out on this journey, I made myself a promise.
That whatever way Praha treated me was nothing but camaraderie.
That if I mistook it for love and crossed that line, only I would suffer.
That I wouldn’t repeat the past.
…But you know, was that really just my misunderstanding?
[Mount Prome: Underground Prison, Level ?]
– Yusara, Praha (Alive)]

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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