Apocalypse: King of Zombies
Chapter 533 - 533: Maybe stupidity really is a survival trait...

A frail old man with silver hair stepped into view, wearing a slightly worn-out server's uniform. His face was lined with deep wrinkles, and when he spoke, it was with a clear American accent—smooth and natural, like someone born and raised in the States.

"Welcome," he said with a raspy but warm smile.

Chris's face lit up. He leaned forward, clearly excited. "Hey, we're from the Uni—"

"Ahem." Brandon cleared his throat softly, cutting him off mid-sentence. He shot Chris a quick look.

Chris froze, his smile faltering as he caught the warning. He swallowed the rest of his words.

The old man didn't seem to notice—or maybe he just didn't care. He kept smiling, the corners of his eyes crinkling even more. "You folks take a seat. Anywhere you like."

"Thanks..." Chris chuckled awkwardly and nodded. The group picked a table tucked away in a corner and sat down.

As they flipped through the menus, they subtly scanned the room.

The place was surprisingly full. People of all races and backgrounds sat at the tables, but the atmosphere was oddly quiet. No one was talking—except for the old man.

Chris leaned in and whispered, "That old guy... you think he's human or...?"

Ethan didn't even look up. "Vampire," he said flatly.

"Shit..." Chris muttered under his breath, a chill running down his spine. He'd almost spilled the truth.

So it wasn't just the delicate-looking women they had to watch out for—even the harmless-looking old folks might not be what they seemed.

He glanced back at the old man, then sighed and held the menu up to cover his face. "End of the world, man... no safe place left."

"I'm starving. I'm getting food," Sean said, grabbing a tray and heading toward the steaming buffet line.

It was a classic American BBQ buffet joint. Customers lined up, loaded their trays with whatever they wanted, and paid by weight or item type.

"Uh... is this stuff even safe to eat?" Chris asked, eyeing the food suspiciously.

Ethan scanned the room. All the diners were human. Vampires, after all, fed on raw meat and fresh blood—they wouldn't be caught dead eating here.

And the payment system? No cash. People were using Neurocores or crystal cores instead.

A few minutes later, Sean came back with a tray piled high with food.

His plate was stacked with thick slices of smoked brisket and tender baby back ribs, a few chunks of pulled pork, and a juicy grilled sausage. The smell was mouthwatering, the meat glistening with just the right amount of fat.

On the side, he had scooped up creamy mac & cheese, baked beans, and a colorful heap of coleslaw.

He'd also grabbed two pieces of cornbread—golden, fluffy, and still steaming.

"Let's eat!" Sean said, then immediately dug in like a man possessed.

Chris stared at him, practically drooling. But the thought of the restaurant being run by vampires made him hesitate. What if the food was contaminated? What if they got infected?

But then Brandon, Elara, and the others started eating too—without hesitation. They'd clearly already analyzed the situation and deemed the food safe.

That was all the convincing Chris needed. He gave in and started shoveling food into his mouth.

"Damn, this is good!"

Their behavior blended right in with the rest of the diners. Nothing suspicious. Just a group of hungry travelers enjoying a meal.

Only Ethan stayed alert, eyes scanning the room. The old man and the other staff? Definitely vampires.

The customers? All human.

A vampire-run restaurant serving humans. Weird as hell, but... maybe this was what coexistence looked like now.

Near the staircase leading to the second floor, people were coming and going. The first floor was the dining area, while the second floor offered lodging.

Not long after, a girl came down the stairs. She had flowing brown hair, porcelain skin, and pale blue eyes that sparkled under the lights.

"Huh?" She paused when she saw Ethan's group. Her expression shifted slightly, eyes lingering on Chris as he devoured his plate of fully cooked food. Her gaze sharpened with interest.

She glanced around, checking to see if anyone was watching her. Then, after a brief moment of thought, she started walking toward their table.

She didn't say a word. As she walked, she pulled out a small notepad and began scribbling something down with a pen.

Chris was halfway through stuffing his face when a sudden, sweet scent drifted past him—not the smoky aroma of BBQ, but something softer, more intoxicating. A woman's scent.

He paused, mouth still full, grease glistening on his lips and a grain of rice stuck to his cheek. He looked up—and froze.

A stunning girl was walking toward him. She moved with casual grace, like she wasn't trying to draw attention, but every step seemed choreographed to do just that. Without a word, she slipped a small folded note onto the edge of their table, then turned and walked away without looking back.

"Uh???" Chris blinked, completely thrown off.

What the hell was that?

Curiosity got the better of him. He grabbed the note and unfolded it.

Scrawled in neat handwriting were just a few words:

"Come to Room 203 upstairs."

Chris stared at it, stunned.

If this had happened before the world went to hell, he'd be grinning ear to ear, convinced his charm had finally paid off. A beautiful girl, slipping him her room number? Classic.

But now? He looked at her retreating figure—slim waist, long legs, hips swaying just enough to tempt—and all he could think was:

"Demon. Definitely a demon. Wants my body."

"You think I can't tell a trap when I see one? Please. I wasn't born yesterday."

He sat there, muttering to himself, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

Brandon and the others had noticed the whole thing, of course.

"Uncle Chris," Brandon said with a smirk, "did that girl just pass you a note?"

"Yup." Chris's eyes darted around, scheming. Brandon had been roasting him nonstop ever since the parasite incident. Maybe it was time to turn the tables.

"Hey Brandon," Chris said, voice casual. "You think that girl was hot?"

Brandon shrugged. "Yeah, she was cute. Why?"

Chris grinned and handed him the note. "Then I'll let you have this one. Consider it a peace offering. No more teasing me after this, deal?"

Brandon raised an eyebrow, unfolded the note, and read it. His expression shifted into something thoughtful.

Chris leaned in, grinning like a devil. "Go on, man. She's practically holding the door open for you."

Brandon hesitated for half a second, then stood up. "Alright. I'll check it out."

He headed toward the stairs.

Chris blinked. "Wait... he's actually going?"

He watched Brandon disappear up the steps, then leaned back in his chair, arms crossed.

"Well... even if she's a vampire, Brandon can handle himself. Let the kid learn a lesson. Maybe next time he'll think twice before mocking me."

...

A little while later, the group had cleaned their plates. Not a scrap of food was left.

Sean leaned back in his chair, belly bulging, picking his teeth with a satisfied groan. "Damn, that hit the spot... urp!"

Mia shot him a look. In a world where most people were starving, Sean had somehow managed to gain weight. Despite the constant travel and fighting, the guy never missed a meal. His face had definitely gotten rounder.

Maybe stupidity really is a survival trait...

Just then, the old man from earlier shuffled over, still wearing that same eerie smile.

"Alright, folks," he said, voice gravelly but polite. "Time to settle the bill."

Chris and the others turned to look at him. Up close, his face was even more skeletal, the deep wrinkles casting shadows that made him look like something out of a horror movie.

And they all knew—this guy wasn't human.

Ethan asked casually, "How much?"

The old man's smile didn't waver. "Not much. Just one A-grade crystal core for the whole meal."

The table went dead silent.

Then Chris practically jumped out of his seat. "One A-grade core?! For this food?! Do you even know what an A-grade core is worth?! Why don't you just rob us at gunpoint?!"

"I know exactly what it's worth," the old man said calmly, as if he'd been expecting this reaction.

In the current state of the world, an S-grade core could make you a regional warlord. A-grade cores were still incredibly rare and valuable—used to power high-tier weapons, tech, or even enhance abilities. Trading one for a plate of ribs and mac & cheese? Insane.

"But that's the price here," the old man continued, still smiling. "If you don't want to pay... I can always call the town guards."

...

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