Chapter 92: The Homemaker of the Shelter

“This, this, what would you have done without us?”

“Exactly.”

Fortunately, there was no unfortunate dispute over a single dose of the vaccine.

Han-yang and Jay also managed to retrieve one without getting bitten.

[How did they survive this?]

[It would’ve been funnier if one of them had died.]

[Look at them sneakily taking the vaccine for themselves.]

[Just gulping it down while Rita cries next to them~]

[To be fair, Molru was the right one to take it.]

[Not the first time they’ve secretly taken something.]

Night had fallen, the sky pitch-black.

At this point, giving the vaccine to Rita and then going out in search of another one was not an option.

Especially since I was bitten on the neck—one of the fastest places for infection to spread.

“Thank goodness, we both survived, Molru.”

“Yeah, really.”

I had deceived an innocent and clueless Rita.

But the world is cruel.

In this zombie-infested apocalyptic world, the only one looking out for my survival is myself.

No one else can be trusted.

Even if Rita had found the vaccine and taken it for herself, I wouldn’t have thought she was wrong for doing so.

I would’ve kicked her out of the party, though.

<You have survived Day 1.>

<Moving on to Day 2.>

• Zombies’ movement speed will increase.
• Zombies’ health will increase.
• You will feel hunger more quickly.

[A bunch of clueless newbies actually made it past Day 1.]

[Because they have Molru.]

[Even with that, they did well. Look at how Han-yang and Jay secured the vaccine.]

[A party of naturally gifted players.]

That was true.

I had played these kinds of apocalypse survival games for years, so it made sense for me.

But for the others to perform this well was truly surprising.

It wouldn’t have been strange at all if we had all died on Day 1.

But there was no guarantee we’d survive Day 2 as well.

Zombie Survival had a defining trait—the longer it lasted, the harder it became.

“Of all things, it had to be hunger…”

On Day 2, zombies became stronger, and survivors were given unavoidable debuffs.

Some were physical, like headaches that drained stamina.

Others were mental, like hallucinations that made players randomly attack their own allies.

And then, there was hunger—if you didn’t eat on time, you would be completely unable to function.

Unlike the other two debuffs, hunger wasn’t something I could handle on my own.

It depended entirely on the cook’s abilities.

In other words, our lives were now in Rita’s hands.

“I’m getting messages popping up everywhere.”

“It says I’m hungry and need to eat quickly?”

“Debuff… hunger…?”

I called out to Rita, cutting through the chatter.

“Rita.”

“Yes?”

“From this point on, your role is extremely important.”

“Y-yes!”

“You can handle it, right?”

“Of course! Cooking is my specialty!”

…Just because it’s your specialty in real life doesn’t mean you’ll do well here.

But my teammates had already caught on—following my lead made the stream more entertaining.

Even though she had never been in the military, she answered like a soldier, responding without hesitation.

“Alright, then, let me tell you what you need to do.”

“Yes!”

“From now on, Rita…”

As everyone quieted down, I lowered my voice, making it sound like I was about to reveal something critical.

“You must stay inside… and only cook.”

“…Huh?”

Rita’s confused response echoed in the silence.

“We’re back! Ugh, I’m starving.”

“Welcome back.”

“Did you cook? I want something soupy today.”

“I feel like having dessert.”

“Oh, me too, dessert sounds good.”

“I still don’t have a high enough cooking level to make anything but main dishes…”

“Ugh, see? That’s why you should’ve leveled up more.”

Should I just kill them?

For a brief moment, Rita seriously considered it.

Jay and Han-yang were whining for food like little kids pestering their mom.

In every collaborative stream, there’s always someone who gets treated like a punching bag.

This time, that person was Rita.

She knew they were doing it for the sake of the stream’s entertainment value…

But it still annoyed her.

“When’s the food ready!?”

…They’re doing this on purpose, right?

Being nagged like this made Rita feel like a mother.

She wanted to believe they weren’t just using this opportunity to vent their frustrations on her.

Honestly, she was a pretty good leader.

Jay and Han-yang had just returned from an outside scouting trip.

At the start of Day 2, Molru had given Rita a clear order.

“Raise your survival skills.”

Zombie Survival had a feature—Life Skills.

Cooking, woodworking, foraging… these skills improved through repeated actions.

Having a single person specialize in them was the most efficient way to grow.

That was Molru’s explanation.

“Rita, you’re going to be our shelter’s all-purpose survival expert.”

Since she had been assigned as the cook from the beginning, it was only natural that Rita took on this role.

“If I had known this would happen, I wouldn’t have picked the cook role!”

Compared to the other crew members, Rita lacked the same level of gaming skill.

So, she volunteered to take charge of cooking.

It seemed like the easier option, and as someone who preferred a more peaceful atmosphere, it suited her better.

The only chef in the apocalypse.

While others fought off hordes of zombies, she would cook warm meals for the exhausted survivors—wasn’t that kind of healing?

Healing, my ass.

Rita resented her past self for ever thinking that way.

Trying to find comfort in a world this brutal had been her biggest mistake.

“Molru, look at this! I picked this up.”

“What is that?”

“Oh… That’s actually really good.”

They had secured a temporary shelter.

In the yard, Rita was cooking over a campfire.

Meanwhile, the others were inside the building, chatting away without a care in the world.

“Not a single person is offering to help…?”

Muttering pitifully to herself, Rita stoked the fire.

Some viewers in the chat sympathized with her.

[Exactly.]

[Housework should be shared.]

[This is too much.]

[If you care about efficiency, though, it makes sense for her to do it alone.]

[She’s been working nonstop without a break.]

[So unfair…]

To be fair, efficiency-wise, Rita handling all the cooking made sense.

No one else could even come close to replicating the buffs her food provided.

But that was a separate issue.

Working alone while everyone else took a break?

It felt like she had become nothing more than their personal maid.

“Dinner’s ready! Come and get it!”

“Finally, food!”

“If we were any later, we’d have started losing stamina.”

Still, seeing them rush out the moment dinner was served made her feel a little better.

At least, until she saw what they did next.

…Did they just throw away the soup she made?

“Ugh, Rita, what is this? I got a debuff from eating it!”

“Eating an unbalanced meal has dulled your sense of taste?”

“This is the best I could do! And it’s not even that bad of a debuff!”

She went through all the trouble of cooking for them, and they wouldn’t even eat it properly.

“I mean, come on, radish soup with sausages? Seriously?”

“That was all I had to work with!”

“You could’ve just grilled the sausages and made radish soup separately.”

Easy for them to say.

Grilling required Cooking Level 6 and a proper kitchen setup.

Unless they found a house with a real kitchen, this was the best she could do with a campfire.

Even Gordon Ramsay wouldn’t have been able to do any better in these conditions.

“See? You should’ve just leveled up your cooking more.”

Snap.

If that’s what they wanted, why didn’t they just let her focus on cooking?

Instead, they made her do woodworking, gathering, and everything else while expecting miracles from her meals.

“You guys should eat anyway. You’re stacking up Hunger debuffs. If you don’t eat now, you won’t be able to do anything tomorrow.”

“But it tastes bad.”

“Oh, come on…”

“If you wanna survive, you have to eat.”

Thanks to Molru’s mediation, the meal continued.

But Rita wasn’t pleased with her either.

Not only had she piled on the workload, but she hadn’t even praised the food.

“Rita, how high are your survival stats now?”

“Cooking’s at 5, woodworking and gathering are at 3.”

“If your woodworking is 3… Can you build us a table tomorrow?

It’s kind of a pain eating on the ground all the time.”

“…What?”

Rita was already swamped with work.

She woke up earlier than everyone else to prepare breakfast.

While they were out scavenging, she gathered firewood and useful materials around their base.

Then, she had to cook lunch.

After lunch, she went foraging again, repaired chairs and fences, and worked on leveling up woodworking.

And before she knew it, it was dinnertime again—leading to this exact same situation.

“A table would be nice. My wrist hurts from holding my bowl all the time.”

“Right? I feel like I’m gonna get carpal tunnel syndrome.”

“Careful with your wrists. If you mess them up, you won’t be able to hold a gun.”

“HAHAHA!”

They laughed like they had just heard the funniest joke in the world.

Then, Han-yang suddenly stood up.

“Wait, if I stand on the campfire, will I actually catch on fire?”

“…What are you doing, Han-yang?”

“The chat wants me to step on the fire.”

The pot of soup had been moved aside, leaving the flames fully exposed.

Like a tightrope walker, Han-yang stepped forward—directly onto the fire.

“Oh! Oh! I really caught on fire! My HP is dropping!”

“Of course it is! What did you expect, idiot?”

“Why would you step on the fire?!”

But Han-yang wasn’t done yet.

“Wait… does kicking while on fire make my attacks stronger?”

“Stop messing around and put yourself out!”

“Diable Jambe!”

As she watched Han-yang kicking into the air with his flaming legs, Rita just laughed.

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