CHAPTER 21: SPEAKING OF TRASH...

Rosalia — POV

"How are Henry and Liz?" Cassel asked quietly, glancing at the two people lying motionless on the ground.

"Boss, they’re fine. They should wake up after a while. It looks like they’ve been drained of energy—nothing critical," said the doctor with gold-rimmed glasses, pushing them up the bridge of his nose.

"Boss, how did this happen? We know the first awakening is always rough, but it looked like Liz was trying... to kill us with her power." Robin was bewildered. Both Liz and Henry were close friends of his, and although Henry was the vice president and, as a former soldier, nothing more than a guard, their relationship had never been stagnant—Henry’s energetic, talkative nature kept things lively.

Liz, for her part, was a serious, competent colleague; she was the kind of person you could safely watch someone’s back with on the battlefield.

Everyone was worried about the two people lying there unmoving.

Even Cassel’s other subordinates had joined the conversation—those background, supporting figures whose names I don’t know. Well, not my fault; it’s the writer’s for leaving them unnamed.

One of them, a broad-shouldered, plain-looking man, said, "Yeah, I’ve seen people wake up before, and Liz’s state seems a little off."

"Do you think she rebelled? Or something like that?" another answered in a hesitant voice, but it sounded as if he’d already arrived at the conclusion after some deep, logical thinking.

Maybe he’d seen—or heard—Liz’s strange laugh while her flames spread...

When Robin, Frederick, and the three others—the main members of Cassel’s team—turned toward the man with dark, angry faces and murderous intent, Cassel’s subordinate slapped him hard on the head and said immediately, "Shut up, you fool. Liz is one of the boss’s pillars and a close subordinate even before the end of the world. What kind of rebellion are you talking about?"

"Then how do you explain what happened a little while ago, huh?"

Voices rose as people talked and argued.

Fortunately, Henry had protected everyone, and Liz’s current firepower hadn’t been that strong—so after the initial burst of energy, her flames didn’t spread far. Still, everyone had witnessed what Liz had done, and some were frightened enough to start considering expelling her.

"What the hell is wrong with that woman? I was near the blast. I almost died. We must kill her or she’ll kill us."

"Yeah, yeah—at least kick her out of here. How can we sleep peacefully with someone like that among us?"

"You—tell your leader to do something and get that damned bomb out of here. Our lives are precious; we don’t want to lose them."

"Yeah."

"I agree."

"Drive her away."

...

The angry voices demanding Liz’s expulsion continued.

Tsk. What scum. On what grounds do they want to oust Liz?

They’re just trash. If not for Cassel and his team, they’d be nothing more than mindless corpses.

They want to expel Liz? By what right? Do they even deserve to utter such a thing or to entertain the thought?

At least Liz is one of the few women who can face zombies and kill them.

What about them? All they know is eating and hiding in cars.

When the team was besieged earlier in the day, not one of those loudmouths came forward—I didn’t see anyone except Cassel’s group and some of his former guards. Now that they’d found a safe place to eat and sleep, their tongues had grown long.

More than six vehicles, all packed with supplies and medical and food goods that Cassel and his team had gathered with their own strength, yet they shared them with open hands and generosity.

Do they think mercy and helping others are logical laws in the apocalypse? Or do they think they are still the rich, extravagant men they once were before the world ended—men whose families could cover the sky above the poor wretches?

It seems Cassel’s team protected them well along the way; otherwise, they would have known their place and shut their mouths and behaved like invisible ghosts.

Useless burdens still open their mouths.

At a time when the strong and capable are the leaders.

At a time when those who can kill zombies and gather supplies are the rich.

When paper money and family influence no longer matter.

People like them should be the first to die and turn into grotesque zombies in end-of-the-world stories.

What irony.

Of course, it’s not as if they could do whatever they wanted—expel Liz or anyone else—unless Cassel ordered it.

Still, they manufactured a big commotion and a fight.

Although the majority here are Cassel’s loyal men, that doesn’t mean there aren’t some people who care about their own lives above all else.

And Cassel had not only gathered his subordinates and guards in this escape; he had also taken on many others who joined on the way—some relatives of Cassel’s company employees, friends of his father, and his cheap half-brother.

You can imagine the kind of people who would walk with that father-and-son duo.

In short, they’re not good people.

The result was that, although Cassel was the boss, his word was law only to his subordinates. The others—mere trash taking shelter under the powerful, under Cassel’s protection, no more than insects he was willing to accept—behaved arrogantly, as if they were kings, just like Cassel’s father and brother used to behave.

"Cassel, how do you pick your subordinates, huh? That damned woman almost killed us."

Speaking of trash...

I looked at the pale man supporting his younger son, who was coming toward us.

Although the others deliberately spoke loudly to make Cassel hear them, no one dared approach.

Just like dogs that bark all day but have no teeth and never actually try to bite.

Their ferocity is only for show.

But this stupid father and son seem to have forgotten how Cassel once broke Cecil’s hand—not even hours had passed.

I mean... what idiots.

Or maybe they were simply used to Cassel’s commands; obedience had become a habit in their blood. Despite their previous fear of Cassel, they had returned to their former arrogance and royal behavior, barking orders at Cassel like slaves.

"What are you doing? We don’t really have many medical supplies. How dare you give those two nobodies a serum?"

This time the speaker was Cecil.

What a...

"Cecil, Mr. Cassel must know what he’s doing. Don’t say that."

Oh—has the fake white-lotus moment finally come to intervene in the farce?

I was standing to watch how these people would make themselves a spectacle, and when I saw Mary step two paces forward I hurried to stand beside Cassel. I even stepped slightly ahead of him.

Do you want to cling to my precious villain?

You’re dreaming.

I won’t give you any chance.

This time I’ll keep Cassel away from you and save him from your control, your cunning, and your schemes.

Without him, we’ll see how you—the one who named yourself the world’s beauty—live by the side of your beloved hero.