Strongest Deliveryman In The Apocalypse

Sobin's grin never wavered as the couple stared at him in disbelief, the reinforced package clutched firmly in his hands.

Inside, however, his thoughts swirled with absolute seriousness.

'Hmph. They think they can just grab the package without the right procedure? Not on my watch. Not after everything I've been through.' A wry smile formed on his face.

'Payment first. Always payment first!'

His eyes narrowed slightly, memories flickering through his mind.

There had been incidents in the past that taught him this lesson, and he would never forget them.

One time, he had delivered a fresh batch of eggs to a customer. The moment he handed over the basket, the woman had claimed she "never ordered them" and slammed the door shut.

He had spent three hours arguing through the door, begging for her to at least scan the payment receipt. In the end, she had scrambled the eggs—literally—while he stood outside empty-handed.

Another time, a man had insisted he had already paid, only for Sobin to check later and realize that the transaction had never gone through.

The system deducted the cost from Sobin's own account to balance the ledger.

He had been forced to live off stale crackers for a week because of it.

And the worst one…

Ah, yes. The pizza delivery fiasco. Sobin still shuddered at the thought.

A group of teenagers had ordered twelve large pizzas and ten liters of soda. He had delivered them all, carrying the massive order with his own two hands up six flights of stairs. When he arrived, the teens had grinned at him, taken the boxes, and told him their "dad would pay later."

They never did.

He still had nightmares about the smell of cold, uneaten pizza haunting the stairwell.

That was the day Sobin swore an oath.

'Never again. Never will I let a package go unverified. No matter what the circumstances, no matter what the tears, no matter how desperate the cries… a Deliveryman always confirms payment first.'

This was the Creed of the Deliveryman!

Sobin adjusted his stance, planting his boots firmly on the doorstep. His bright grin didn't fade, but his voice rang with iron-clad conviction.

"I understand your daughter's illness. I understand your tears. But even in the apocalypse, one thing must remain unshaken—professionalism! Show me your payment receipt, and this package shall be yours!"

The couple exchanged bewildered looks.

"Is he… serious?" the mother whispered.

"Is this really an E Rank?" the father muttered. "No rookie talks like that…"

Still, they scrambled for their household device. The father quickly navigated through the BOTL app—the global delivery platform Sobin was registered under. A moment later, he pulled up the digital receipt and pressed it against the slot for Sobin to see.

"There!" he said, voice trembling. "Confirmed. Paid in full. We even used emergency points."

Sobin leaned forward, squinting at the text on the screen. The bright blue letters spelled it out clearly:

[Transaction Complete. Payment: 100 Social Credit Points. BOTL Fee: 35%. Rider Cut: 65%.]

His eyes sparkled.

"Ahh, beautiful!" he exclaimed, clutching his chest dramatically. "Nothing soothes my heart like the sight of a completed transaction. A masterpiece of accounting!"

The couple blinked.

"…He's insane," the mother whispered.

"Maybe… maybe this is just what Riders are like now," the father replied uncertainly.

With a satisfied nod, Sobin finally extended the reinforced container through the slot. The father took it with trembling hands, while the mother burst into grateful sobs.

"Our daughter…! She's saved!"

But Sobin wasn't finished. He raised a finger, his tone solemn.

"Please note: BOTL guarantees secure packaging and undamaged contents. I, Sobin, E Rank Rider, uphold this to the highest standard. Check it if you must—but know that my deliveries arrive exactly as they were entrusted to me."

The couple hesitated, then quickly opened the container.

Their eyes widened as they beheld the pristine medicine kit inside, untouched, perfectly preserved in temperature-regulated gel packs.

Not a scratch on the casing, not a dent on the bottles.

"…It's flawless," the father whispered.

"This isn't… this isn't the work of a newbie," the mother said, tears streaking her face. "No ordinary E Rank could manage this."

For a brief moment, they forgot their confusion as they rushed back to their daughter's side. The mother carefully measured the first dose and pressed it to the girl's lips. Slowly, slowly, the child swallowed, her breathing easing ever so slightly.

Hope flickered in their eyes for the first time in weeks.

At the doorway, Sobin adjusted his cap, beaming as though nothing unusual had happened.

"Well then! Delivery complete! Thank you for choosing BOTL, and thank you for trusting Sobin. If you'd kindly leave a five-star review, I would be eternally grateful!"

The couple froze—then burst into slightly hysterical laughter.

He had just saved their daughter's life, and he was asking for a rating like this was some fast-food delivery service.

But as they turned back to their device, the option to leave feedback popped up.

With hands still trembling, they tapped the golden stars.

"Done," the father said, his voice thick with emotion.

Sobin's grin widened even more, if that was even possible.

"Excellent! May your shutters stay sturdy and your generators never fail! Farewell!"

And with that, he tipped his cap, spun on his heel, and marched back to Bessie, humming cheerfully.

The family watched him go, stunned.

"…That… was really an E Rank Rider?" the mother whispered.

The father stared after Sobin's retreating figure, still glowing like a beacon in the twilight.

"…No," he murmured. "That was something else entirely."

Inside, their daughter's breathing steadied and hope bloomed in their bunker like a fragile flower.

They had genuinely thought it would be too late to save her.

In the Apocalypse, living wasn't guaranteed. Sure, they were among the privileged ones that still had roofs over their heads and lived like a normal family… but there was nothing normal about their situation.

Any day of the week, a Monster could appear and completely ruin their peace.

Life was too fragile here.

Plus, they had used too many Social Credit Points, and so their leftover score was rather low. The family already knew that they wouldn't be ordering a lot in the coming days.

Still, they were glad.

They had hope—at least for that moment.

And, if they managed to live through the month, they already knew the Rider they would specifically choose for their next delivery.

And in the corner of the screen, the five golden stars glowed brightly beside his name.