I jolt awake to the familiar surroundings of my modest bedroom. I am back in this exact moment yet again—the morning I resign from the police force to open my new detective agency.
I sit up slowly, my mind flooding with vivid memories of the repeated days. I have lived through this very same morning four times now. Four separate times that mark approximately three months until the start of the global zombie pandemic.
I can't explain why or how this cycle repeats for me. Yet, what I do understand is each time I die, I return to the starting point and continue my journey anew.
Three months until modern civilisation collapses into true anarchy. Three months until the world descends into a horrific daily struggle for survival. I have experienced the sweeping pandemonium first-hand, multiple times. I have suffered violent, painful deaths, multiple times. But now, finally, I am truly ready.
Being a detective has always been my lifelong dream. I have honed my investigative skills during my police career, but the force has always constrained me from reaching my true potential. Now I can finally put my abilities to use. More importantly, I can leverage them to survive.
I swiftly dress in nondescript grey work clothes. My sole objective today is meticulously preparing for the coming apocalyptic nightmare, a task I have failed at catastrophically before despite my best efforts. But this time will be different. This time I have the immense advantage of foreknowledge.
The first step is simple - money. I already have a list memorised of upcoming lottery numbers and surging stocks thanks to my unique situation. I head to the nearest shop to purchase a few lottery tickets, choosing the numbers that will bring me a sizable fortune in the coming weeks.
My second stop is a bank. I instruct the elderly private wealth manager to immediately liquidate all of my current investments into cash balances.
"Why such a rush?" he asks, peering at me over his spectacles in confusion.
"I prefer not to discuss it," I reply curtly, offering no details about my motivations.
He sighs, "I can't imagine why you'd do this," but he begins the process nonetheless. He cannot begin to fathom what I know is coming.
Once everything is liquidated, I begin slowly and methodically reinvesting every last won into select companies I know will thrive as the global crisis emerges – pharmaceutical and biotech firms developing vaccines, medical supply manufacturers, gunmakers, gas, and oil providers.
The wealth manager shakes his head in disbelief at my choices. "Are you sure about these sectors? It seems quite... unconventional."
I meet his gaze with a steely resolve. "Absolutely. Proceed as I have instructed."
He hesitates for a moment before continuing.
"Alright, it's your money."
I do not care about his doubts. I alone know what is coming, and I will be prepared.
In my first tragic experience of this timeline, I ignored the subtle but growing warning signs until it was too late. By the time I realised what was happening, the ravenous zombies had swarmed my apartment building, killing me as I hid in terrified panic.
The second time through, I tried desperately to warn people about the coming anarchy, begging them to flee the cities and stock up on supplies. But no one listened. They called me a madman. A paranoid doomsday prophet. I escaped the urban chaos alone, only to die starving, cold, and abandoned in the wilderness weeks later.
In the third repeat, armed with the foreknowledge of what was to come, I attempted a different strategy. I amassed wealth, believing that money could buy me safety, could shield me from the harsh realities of this world. I stockpiled resources, creating a fortress of wealth in a sea of desperation.
But it wasn't enough. The violent gang of marauders, led by the merciless Taesung, discovered my hoard. They saw not a man, but a cache to be plundered, a resource to be consumed. They murdered me in cold blood, a stark testament to the brutal truth that in this world turned upside down, wealth was no guarantor of survival. It was a bitter end, a cold realisation that even the best-laid plans can be undone by violence and greed.
Now I finally grasp what is truly essential – specific insights into the future, practical survival skills, unrelenting secrecy, and total isolation. I have been granted this unique opportunity to relive the systemic collapse for an important reason. And this time I absolutely will not fail.
Over the next three months, I continuously fine-tune my stock portfolio based on the exact timeline of events I know is coming. I strategically funnel all gains into anonymous offshore accounts and untraceable assets. No digital trail or paper evidence can lead back to me.
I tell no one of my activities, having painfully learned that my warnings will not be believed. I have no family that I know of, having grown up an orphan. I rely upon only myself.
One morning, I spot a minor news article about a potential biohazard leak at an overseas military lab.
According to initial reports, the leak is detected during a routine inspection, with immediate containment procedures activated to prevent any potential spread of hazardous materials. The specifics of the biohazard involved have not been disclosed, and the military has assured the public that there is no immediate threat to surrounding areas.
The media doesn't consider it important, but to me, it signifies the outbreak is imminent, just as before. The warning signs are starting, even if invisible to the unaware and unprepared.
While those around me go about their oblivious lives, I work tirelessly in the shadows, analysing data and fine-tuning my investments daily. Stockpiling assets. Scrubbing any trace of my identity. Meticulously preparing to disappear without a trace when the moment comes.
The day will arrive soon enough when the horrific scope of this nightmare becomes clear to all. But this time, I will be ready. This time, I have the foreknowledge and resources to get ahead of the snowballing chaos. This time, I am no helpless victim. This time, I am prepared.
This time, I will survive.