Don't Pick Up the Male Lead in the Apocalypse - Chapter 3
Wait, but did I really possess someone’s body?
I glanced at my reflection on the shimmering surface of the golden bell.
The black eyes and hair reflected back were the same as my usual appearance. My clothes were the same too.
So, it’s not possession.
If I knew which character I was possessing, I could quickly figure out which novel this is.
Unfortunately, that’s not the case.
Still, I definitely feel like I’m inside a novel, a survival one.
It’s not a game, not a movie, but a novel. Why? Because I’ve spent the most money on novels. I’ve heard that money doesn’t betray you.
It doesn’t seem like a romance fantasy considering the surroundings; maybe it’s a modern fantasy?
Typically, childcare or regret-themed stories start with waking up in a room. But here I am, waking up in a freezing snowfield as if I’m about to die. Starting outdoors suggests it’s a survival story.
And the fact that it’s teaching me how to use weapons right away is a clear sign it’s a survival story.
“But weaponizing anything I touch?”
If they want me to survive, why not give me a powerful weapon instead of this vague statement?
‘Does this mean this can become a weapon too?’
Most of the things around me.
I tightly packed the white snow in my hand and threw it towards the ground.
“W-whoa.”
It was a pure snowball without a single stone in it, yet it seemed to dig about 30 centimeters into the ground.
‘If someone got hit by this, they’d be done for.’
The weaponization feature is real.
-Crackling.
“Right, that man.”
I nearly forgot about the dying man in the midst of understanding my situation.
The walkie-talkie crackled with static, but now and then, I could hear the distinct sound of a human voice.
“Please help! Someone is dying! We’re located near a few houses in the distance and a playground…”
Just then, as if responding to my desperate cry, a clear voice came through the walkie-talkie.
-Click, crackle… It’s a woman, a woman.
“Yes, that’s right, I’m a woma—!”
Wait a minute.
I stopped mid-sentence, feeling a strange sensation trickling down the back of my neck.
Why does this feel so strange?
‘It’s a woman, she’s a woman?’
The person on the other side of the walkie-talkie recognized my gender by my voice.
But why do they seem pleased? Why does it matter to them that the person sending a rescue request is a woman?
“……”
As I paused momentarily due to the strange feeling, the walkie-talkie crackled again with a voice.
-Crackling, where are you located?
‘What’s their intent in asking for my location?’
Am I being overly sensitive? To respond to a rescue request, it’s natural to inform the other party of my location… It should be obvious…
I had a strong feeling I shouldn’t answer.
-Crackling, how many people are there?
As I maintained my silence, the static from the walkie-talkie died down. The person on the other end seemed to be searching for another question, momentarily saying nothing.
Then.
-Crackling, hey, ask her.
-You lost your walkie-talkie yesterday, didn’t you? Are there any more areas other than District 8 and District 9, where you went yesterday?
The voice was different. It wasn’t the first responder.
Districts 8 and 9? Is this place referred to as district 8 or 9?
I looked around again.
I hadn’t noticed before, due to the snow-covered branches, but I spotted a black flag planted not too far away.
The number on the flag seemed to be an 8.
‘I’ve been pinpointed.’
Chills ran down my spine.
But regardless of the goosebumps on my back, more words came from the person on the other end of the walkie-talkie.
-Crackling, are you listening?
“……”
-Did you say there’s someone dying?
“…..”
-We’ll come to rescue you, wait there. Click, crackle.
With that, the radio fell silent.
I looked down at the pale-faced man.
I had just cleared the snow off his body, but it was quickly piling up again.
I brushed off the newly fallen snow and covered him with the Salvation Army’s red down jacket.
“Sir, just hang in there a bit longer. You have to survive.”
“……”
I shook him gently, hoping, but he showed no signs of waking up.
After taking off my down jacket, I stood up in my argyle knit and corduroy pants, surveying the surroundings.
It was as if the only colors in the world were my top, bottom, and the red down jacket I’d removed.
“Ugh…… cold.”
Shivering from the cold seeping into my knit, I picked up the bag next to the man and slung it over my shoulder.
These seeds are precious, he had said.
The man had already lost consciousness, and in case the rescuers missed it, I felt I should take care of it.
“Sir, I’m sorry I can’t be by your side. Instead, I’ll keep watch from over there.”
I’m full of suspicion right now.
