Monsters?

I blinked at her, processing what she just said. Back in my old world, every human city had already fallen. Zombies roamed right outside your door like it was a casual stroll in the park.

Want to see a fresh monster? Step outside, and you could get up close and personal.

Emily's expression was priceless. She clearly hadn’t expected that kind of answer. Her face went through a series of confused emotions. New hires aren’t usually this calm. She was probably prepared to give me a whole speech about what these monsters were, play some videos, and throw some statistics at me.

Most people might crack under the pressure, freak out, or start asking a million questions. Emily likely spent more time comforting newbies than explaining the job. But me? I sat there, totally unfazed, like we were talking about picking up cabbage at the grocery store.

After a beat of awkward silence, she kept going. “Are you afraid of corpses?”

I shrugged, keeping my answer low-key. “Not really.”

Understatement of the year. I’d seen more bodies than I could count—human, zombie, and some things that didn’t even look like they came from Earth. Seeing a corpse was no different to me than looking at a streetlight.

Emily paused again, probably trying to process why I wasn’t freaking out. She glanced at me like she was re-evaluating everything. Chosen by the system or not, this girl’s got guts.

“Bravery’s good,” she said finally. “You’re ready to start working.”

I stared at her for a second, confused. “That’s it? Just like that?”

I half-expected there to be some sort of test or trial.

Emily smiled faintly. “Technically, the work itself isn’t that hard. The main requirements are bravery, high stress tolerance, and a solid mental state.”

I paused, lowering my voice. “So... am I cleaning up bodies?”

She didn’t flinch. “You could say that. We need to clean up after the monsters.”

Of course. They ask if I’m afraid of monsters, then if I’m afraid of corpses—obviously, I’m going to be dealing with both.

I pieced it together quickly. First, there’s some kind of mysterious monster roaming this world. What it is exactly? Not my business. Second, after these things die, someone has to collect the bodies.

Seems simple enough. No interviews, no complicated application process—it’s all backend, support work. They wouldn’t send me into the front lines. I’d be in the cleanup crew, picking up the leftovers.

Compared to what I used to do—fighting zombies every day and nearly dying every five minutes—this job sounded like a vacation.

I couldn’t help but ask, “Why can’t they find people for a job that pays this well?”

Three hours for five thousand credits? That’s insane. The job pays over ten grand a day if you calculate it out. In this post-apocalyptic world, where robots had taken over most jobs, people should be fighting for this.

Emily sighed. “Not many people qualify. A lot of them can’t handle it. The longest any of our employees have lasted is eight and a half years. Most quit after three months.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

Her face softened, almost apologetic. “People go crazy after a while. That’s why we’re always hiring.”

I stared at her. “Crazy?”

“Yes,” she said with a wry smile. “Most people can’t handle the mental strain. But don’t worry, we monitor everyone’s health closely. If you start showing signs, the company will pull you out. We also cover all medical expenses, and even after you leave, you’ll receive monthly compensation.”

Okay... So there’s some warmth behind the cold, hard exterior of this place. It still sounded brutal, but they weren’t heartless.

Emily continued, “That’s why the trial period is only one day. We’ll know by the end of today if you can handle it.”

I glanced at her. “Why not use robots?”

If there’s something mentally exhausting about the job, shouldn’t robots be the perfect fit?

She grimaced. “They short-circuit.”

I blinked. What?

She waved it off. “I can’t explain much more. It’s better if you experience it yourself.”

She gave me a pointed look and pushed a stack of contracts toward me. “We’re desperate for new people, but this job is confidential. I need you to understand what you’re getting into.”

I glanced at the papers. The confidentiality agreement was vague, just stating I had to keep my mouth shut about what I saw.

The second was my trial contract, protecting my basic rights.

The third? An extensive safety agreement—twenty pages long. I read it carefully.

A few clauses stood out to me.

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Clause 11: “In the event of injury or death, the Federal Cleaning Center is fully responsible and will compensate at three times the standard rate.”

Clause 35: “In the case of permanent disability, the Federal Government will cover lifetime care.”

The contract used words like injury and death more often than I was comfortable with.

“There’s danger?” I asked.

“There is,” Emily admitted. “But it’s rare. You probably won’t encounter it. By the time our crew goes in, it’s usually already safe.”

That made sense. We weren’t the front line. The dangerous work was handled by other people.

Basically, the safest job in a dangerous field.

Perfect for me.

I finished reading the contract, then signed without hesitation. If I’m going to work, I might as well get paid. I always preferred making a month’s salary in a day and then chilling the rest of the time.

Emily’s wristband buzzed. Someone else needed her attention. She looked at me and said, “Your assignment today is in the A7 sewer. Someone will be here to guide you shortly.”

She tapped something on her screen. “We pay upfront, so here’s your attendance fee for today. Your commission will be calculated afterward.”

My wrist buzzed. 5,000 credits—just like that.

I almost laughed. This feels like free money.

I sat through an hour-long crash course on how to be a cleaner.

The video should have been titled: “From Zero to Garbage Collector in One Hour.”

The best part? The training time counted toward my work hours, so I felt like I was getting paid to watch a video.

I paid close attention, though. This was a dangerous job, and I wasn’t about to be careless. The training video showed corpses, or what was left of them—just a mess of blood and flesh, barely recognizable as anything at all. The official term? Contaminants.

I memorized every step.

Basically, pick up the bodies and clean up the battlefield. Compared to what I’d been through, this was easy.

After the video, they led me to change into my “work uniform,” which turned out to be the most time-consuming part.

It took me a full twenty minutes just to suit up.

The uniform was like something a biker would wear—jet black, made of some material that felt like leather. There was also a black helmet.

Honestly, I could steal a bike and ride off into the sunset right now, and no one would bat an eye.

There was a button on the chest. Pressing it would inflate the suit, acting as a buffer to absorb hits from monsters. It even had its own oxygen supply for extreme environments.

Once inflated, I looked more like an astronaut than a garbage cleaner.

I remembered the first rule of being a cleaner: Never expose your skin.

Helmet in hand, I noticed two other people waiting nearby. The cleanup crew usually worked in teams of three. Since I was new, they were clearly going to pair me with more experienced workers.

“I'm Daniel,” one of them said.

“Emma,” the other one added.

We exchanged quick introductions.

Emma handed me a gun. “For protection,” she said. “It's locked right now, more for peace of mind than anything.”

I inspected the weapon. The chamber was empty.

“Air bullets,” Daniel explained. “When you fire, it compresses air into a bullet. Pretty decent firepower.”

Daniel added, “Don’t worry if you can’t shoot yet. Today’s just about learning the ropes. They’ll teach you how to use it properly during training.”

I didn’t argue. I tucked the gun into my belt without much fuss.

Finally, Daniel handed me a cleaning backpack. I recognized it from the video—standard-issue for every cleaner.

“Let’s go,” Emma said, leading the way. “Time to take out the trash.”

----------------------------------------

The worksite was apparently some sewer. We rode there in a transport vehicle, but there were no windows, so I had no idea where we were going.

We’ve been driving for an hour, I thought. The vehicles in this wasteland traveled forty-five times faster than cars, so by now, we were probably outside District 103.

Finally, the vehicle stopped. It was already 8 p.m.

The sky had gone dark, but massive floodlights turned the wasteland into daylight.

Staff set up barriers, and even some robots were keeping things in order.

As we stepped in, another team was just coming out.

Their uniforms were different—sleeker, more like soft armor. If my suit looked like biker gear, theirs was something out of a sci-fi movie. Something like Iron Man’s suit.

These guys are serious. I could tell from the way they moved, the way they carried themselves. They were hardened, no-nonsense types.

Must be the elite units people talk about.

Emma led our team, and as soon as she saw them, she stopped to let them pass.

Apparently, these armored guys outranked us. It was clear—when we crossed paths, the cleaners stepped aside.

We had no choice but to wait.

The armored soldiers didn’t even acknowledge us. One of them passed us by and muttered with a smirk, “Weaklings.”

Daniel looked ready to argue, but Emma grabbed his arm and held him back. She only let go once the soldiers had passed.

“They piss you off?” she asked calmly.

Daniel fumed. “Why’d you stop me?”

Inside our helmets, we shared a comms link. I asked, “Who are those guys?”

“Demon hunters,” Emma replied, voice calm and steady. No surprise she was the team leader.

Daniel scoffed. “With all that high-tech gear and guided combat packs, anyone could do their job.”

In this world of high-tech weapons and AI, soldiers were more like pieces on a chessboard—completely replaceable.

I couldn’t help but ask, “So why aren’t you a demon hunter?”

Daniel sighed. “My mental grade wasn’t high enough. I’d get contaminated too easily.”

I nodded. Ah, so that’s how it works. If your mental grade was high enough, you were sent to fight monsters. If it wasn’t, you cleaned up afterward.

Daniel seemed embarrassed for a second. “But we’re the ones who recover the contaminants. Without us, they’d be screwed.”

I played along. “Yeah, we’re the real heroes.”

Daniel didn’t miss the sarcasm. “You want to be a demon hunter too?”

Most people probably thought demon hunters were cool. Cleaning up after them? Not so much.

I didn’t hesitate for a second. “Not interested.”

Why would I want that? I’d spent enough time fighting zombies in my previous life. I was here to chill, not risk my neck again.

Daniel just stared at me. “...You’re serious?”

He patted my shoulder with a grin. “Good for you. It’s rare to find someone with real pride in this job.”

I smirked. “Of course. The moment I saw this gig, I knew it was the job for me.”

Good pay, low risk, and no stress—what else could I want?

“All right,” Emma cut in, snapping us back to work. “Let’s get to it. Daniel, report the mission.”

Daniel’s joking demeanor disappeared as he read off the data: “Class E mission. Contaminated area, 2,500 cubic meters. Contamination level: 30 to 55 percent. Sixteen contaminants, all deceased.”

I listened to the numbers but didn’t really understand. This stuff doesn’t mean anything to me yet.

Emma must have sensed my confusion. “You’ll understand once we get down there.”

Once you got some experience under your belt, the numbers made sense. After three missions, I’d probably be an expert.

“You go first,” Emma said to me, giving orders. “I heard you’re brave. Let’s see how you handle it.”

Daniel suddenly remembered I was new. “Maybe I should go. She’s still a rookie.”

I shook my head. “I’ve got this.”

This wasn’t the time for chivalry.

What used to be a manhole was now a gaping hole in the ground—probably blown open by the demon hunters. A rope was suspended next to it for the cleanup crew.

I grabbed the rope and leapt down, sliding like a fish. The hole was deep. It took a full ten minutes to reach the bottom.

I unclipped the rope, hearing faint sounds as Daniel and Emma followed.

The helmet’s night vision kicked in, and I scanned the scene.

And then I froze.

I’d thought I was ready for this. I’d watched the videos, heard the warnings, seen my fair share of horrors.

Hell, I even let my imagination run wild.

But I hadn’t imagined this.