After Surviving the Apocalypse, I Built a City in Another World - Chapter 1618

Chapter 1618: The Waste

Trigger Warning: Drug use

…

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Gian left the house and onto the narrow streets outside. He walked a couple of meters in a direction, ending up in front of a similar house to the one he had just been in.

This was the first house he had ever leased in Flaret. At first, before there was a massive increase of drug production and distribution (so he could steal some), he had to use his own money to rent out a house.

This was money he saved up while he was a member of the Terran Mercenary Team, supposedly used to give his sister a good life, though she could do that now well without him.

In a sense, he worked so hard, spent so much, and risked so much in this lone mission, partially due to his need to feel…relevant.

He had been alone in this world after leaving the mercenary team, and he had to admit he had felt lost for a long time. Rescuing people made him feel needed, as if there was still a reason he was still alive.

He was a soldier, and the whole ‘serving others’ doctrine fuelled most of his actions, but in the end, a lot of it was to fill in a void created by his sins and selfishness.

But did it matter? At least he was actively helping people.

This house was the only one they used for the first few months, and it was extremely dense. In fact, using some scrap wood, he had gotten the first batches of rescue to build three-tier bunk beds, and these were still in use today.

Most of the beds were empty because most of them were outside, working. Some were gathering materials to sell at the town center, while others were buying raw materials to make some crafts. They were also the ones assigned to buy raw materials for the other houses with the newer slaves who could not go out themselves yet.

Some did sewing, some did basket making, and so on. The funds for their food were taken there, because everyone knew that most of the gold Gian gathered was to buy slaves and rent houses.

He went to one of the bedrooms and stopped at the threshold. He immediately saw someone curled on the floor, though only his feet were visible as the rest of the body was covered by the bed.

Gian sighed heavily, unsurprised, and he walked over to check if the person was still alive.

He was, but at the same time not exactly. The man was shivering heavily, gripping at his own arms, as if in extreme pain, and he didn’t care if he was hurting himself.

The man…was having withdrawal symptoms. Gian looked at the man with eyes full of disgust. This scene reminded him of long-buried memories he did not want to remember.

Gian and his sister, Samantha, grew up with a single mother. For the most part, she was a loving mother. However, to support the two of them, she entered an unsavory industry, which ultimately got her hooked on these horrible things.

He had seen its effects firsthand and he abhorred that he was so dependent on selling it at this time.

At some point, the shriveling man finally sensed his presence and sat up. He had a reddish face, and he looked at him in desperation, grabbing Gian’s arm with his thin hands. “Do you have any o-of that?”

Gian coldly pried his hand away. “Stop it. Snap out of it.”

The disgust in Gian’s eyes became complicated every time he saw his face.

This was actually an old comrade of theirs, one who retired a few years before the incident.

The man’s name was Galleon Pierce, and he was Terran survivor #001.

…

“Gian!” the older man yelled as he tried to grab on to him again. “G-Give it to me!”

Gian’s frown deepened as he avoided his grip.

“Stay back,” he said, and the man froze, obediently staying back.

Gian didn’t free any one of them yet, even the first batch who had worked with him, so all of them were still system slaves.

One reason was that he didn’t want to spend an extra 5 gold each to free them when he could use that to get new ‘slaves’.

Another reason was that he was only one person. He could not handle all of them by himself. People were unreliable, after all, especially when he chose randomly on who to rescue. He didn’t know what kind of people they were when he took them in.

These people could forget the gratitude in their hearts when new and better advantages showed themselves.

“GIANN!!!” the man screamed like a banshee, lunging at him.

Slap!

Bang!

The man fell. He had been weakened for a long time. There was no way he could handle a hit from someone far above his level.

“Get a hold of yourself…, General,” Gian said, gritting his teeth. “…please.”

This was a man who used to be someone he respected so much.

He was not among the slaves from the Slave House, but someone he bought from an aborigine village he passed by before they sold the slaves to the town.

He had a dull look in his eyes, but Gian knew he had to rescue him.

He used a good bulk of his savings to rescue the man before he even started his rescue missions in Flaret.

However, lo and behold, he came back one day to see the man get high. He apparently got some bags from a transfer before it was popularized.

When they arrived in Flaret, Gian left him in this room and ordered him not to get near the drug again (and never to harm anyone), and now he was undergoing extreme withdrawals.

“You were a soldier once,” Gian said, looking at the man who was pale from vomiting the contents of his empty stomach. “You were a great one. You can still be useful to the world.”

The man chuckled, but it was the heavy chuckle that expressed the extreme depression in his heart.

“The world?” He asked, voice croaking. He looked at Gian as if he were telling a horrible joke. “Why would I do anything for the world?!”

He screamed and he could hear the scramblings downstairs, knowing the exclamation alarmed the others. Neither man cared for that, however.

“What is the use if I still lost everything?” Gideon exhaled between gritted teeth. “You ordered me not to die,” he said. “How else am I supposed to numb the pain?”

“Tell me: HOW?!”

He pleaded with Gian, asking him to just give him the damned powder, or at least tell him what to do.

“No, you will sober up, or you cannot leave this room,” Gian said, sighing and leaving the room, hoping he’d flush it out of his system soon.

Galleon looked on desperately as the door was closed. He extended his hand to reach it, but he had no strength.

“Please… Gian… give them to me…”

And he fell down, tears and snot filling his face. He felt his body shake in longing.

But the longing wasn’t for the drug—it never was. It was for its effects.

When he took it, he could see a clear image of the family he had lost. He could see them smiling at him, embracing him, as if they were still there.

Without the drug, would he never see them again?

Am I introducing so many characters again?! smh smh