Hiding a House in the Apocalypse

The downfall of a metropolis is often compared to the crash of a plane running out of fuel. It may fly on inertia for quite some time after losing power, but when it can no longer sustain lift, it makes a noisy descent to the ground, ending with a violent explosion.

Seoul, like Beijing, Mumbai, Jakarta, and Hong Kong, followed suit. The disappearance of the major cities in the background was a painful part of my plan, but it wasn't an unexpected variable. The South Korean government's determination to protect the Republic, no matter what, remained strong. Now that all that hope has vanished, my job is not to save Seoul. It's not something I can do, and it's not something I should do.

I urgently need to use the currency of the apocalypse, which is cigarettes. Even if Seoul falls, cigarettes will still hold power, but if the market itself shrinks, the quality and variety of goods available will diminish as well.

What I need right now is a new laptop. A black spot appeared on the existing laptop screen, and it wasn't very pleasant. It wasn't a problem when playing games or watching videos, but it was quite annoying when using the community.

I do have a spare laptop, but it's a gaming laptop... Anyway, I decided to dispose of the cigarettes and prepare for the trip to Seoul.

"This is Skeleton. What's the status of Route 13?"

"I've confirmed your personal identification number. Hello, Skeleton? It's peaceful right now. Safety has been secured on the entire route. If you plan to pass through, please do so within six hours."

I slowly rode my bicycle toward Seoul. There were a few electric vehicles on the road, and people on the side of the road were dismantling and scavenging parts from parked cars that had stopped running.

When I safely entered Seoul, the atmosphere was quite bright. Reconstruction projects under the name of "National Labour" were underway everywhere, and numerous people were clearing rocks, digging with pickaxes, and cleaning the streets.

Advertisements announcing that singers and idols, who had previously closed their shows due to the pandemic, were now performing, including bus and other electric public transportation, roamed the empty streets.

On the community, I hadn't paid much attention, but elementary and middle schools had reopened after a long closure.

High schools and universities were also planning to reopen next year.

So, was it because of that?

Food distribution decreased, power outages occurred more frequently, and the duration of these inconveniences grew longer, but the citizens saw even that as a sign that Seoul was being rebuilt.

However, the atmosphere in Seoul, when seen up close, was quite different from what was shown on the surface. Everyone was singing songs of hope, but there was a sinister and dreadful shadow lurking beneath.

What made this shadow less problematic was that people chose not to look closely. Whenever I visited Seoul, the atmosphere at the "International Residence," where I stayed overnight, was ambiguously caught between hope and despair.

The International Residence was a place that had been converted from a former gosiwon (a type of small lodging) into accommodation.

It was old and run-down, but it hadn't suffered much damage during the war, so it was suitable for staying a day or two.

The owners of the residence were a middle-aged couple, each of whom had brought their own parents with them. They had two children who were around middle school age.

It was clear from the beginning that the couple's relationship was not good. The source of their discord seemed to be their parents.

The husband's side had brought his father, who had shown symptoms of dementia due to the shock of the war, and the wife's side had her mother, who had a peculiar habit of sitting in front of the gosiwon and staring at passing people with an embarrassed expression.

Usually, it was the wife who nagged more.

However, recently, something had changed. Even the husband, who had remained silent despite his wife's incessant complaints, seemed to have run out of patience and started to fight back.

"So, should we send your mother to a nursing home in the countryside?"

"Why? It's a government-guaranteed welfare program."

"Then why don't you send your father first?"

"You know that he has dementia, right?"

"That's why we should send him even more!"

But the argument ended in the wife's victory.

"Whose house is this? It's not your father, is it? It's our dad's money that was used to buy this house! How can someone be so shameless when they didn't bring a penny when they got married?"

"······."

It was only fair.

Even to an outsider, the husband seemed like a pitiful person, with nothing to offer except his face.

He always sat weakly at the counter, either absentmindedly puffing on a cigarette or lying on the floor, doing nothing.

I've never seen him work since the war started, but from the conversations, it seemed like he didn't work even before the war.

Nevertheless, he left something for his children.

A good-looking face.

If the cracks in the relationship between couples' parents were like faults, their children were the adhesive that barely held that fragile relationship together.

Especially the eldest son was truly an outstanding child.

It was as if they had selectively bred the good qualities of their father's personality and their mother's diligence.

Or maybe it was a mutation, given that both parents lacked the deep and refined character that seemed to manifest in him.

"Sir, you've been coming here often lately, haven't you?"

"I've told you several times, don't call me sir."

"If there's more than a ten-year age difference, I should call you sir."

"I'm only eighteen, you know?"

He had a mischievous side, but he was much better than his older sister, who treated people like a chicken, she probably had adolescence syndrome.

He was fourteen years old and currently attending middle school.

Reportedly, he had quite good grades.

He was popular and had many friends, a typical mother's favorite.

It was said that he had a lot of potential girlfriends, but he rejected them all himself.

Most importantly, this young friend had a pretty decent laptop.

From 6 PM to 7 PM, it was internet time.

The drug allowed by the country.

The telecommunications equipment and internet lines, which had been shut down due to electrical and facility issues, were opened for one hour.

With ample power supply as a bonus.

So when it was internet time, Seoul became a dead city, as everyone immersed themselves in their respective virtual worlds, catching up on their delayed online tasks.

Although the speed was somewhat slower, the Wi-Fi, which was not much different from before the war, along with the complete urban facilities, was one of the main reasons I used the international residence.

Many residents in the boarding house restaurant were busy occupying seats and staring at their mobile phone or laptop screens to catch a glimpse of this Wi-Fi energy.

One man even brought a heavy desktop computer, and the owner of the house scolded him.

"No, sir! That thing consumes too much electricity!"

"I removed the graphics card."

"It still consumes a lot of electricity! Pay more! Even give me a lottery ticket or something!"

I sat down next to the landlord's son and connected to the public internet on my phone.

<CarrotNet>

A neighborhood-based online marketplace that continued to operate even after the war.

I could feel the breath of countless items and people.

Seeing dozens of new posts coming up in real-time, I realized how small our community was in the world of the internet.

Yes, this was the internet.

I found a laptop on CarrotNet.

There were more listings than I expected, but most of them were gaming laptops.

"I don't need a gaming laptop."

There were many listings, but I couldn't find what I wanted, so I sighed.

Then the landlord's son, who had been silently observing my screen, asked me.

"Sir, are you looking for a laptop?"

"Yeah."

"Do you want to buy mine?"

"What? Really?"

I was thrilled to the point where my ears almost perked up, but he soon asked cautiously.

"Is it okay if I ask why you dont need it?"

"I'm fine. I'm going to a school in Jeju Island."

"A school in Jeju Island?"

The boy smiled and showed me the laptop screen.

A clean screen without a single blemish displayed an image file of a recruitment brochure.

<"Won't you become a hero?">

• Recruitment Guide for the 27th intake of the National Hunter Training Institution "Guard."

"What's this?"

The colour scheme and design were like that, and it seemed like an advertisement made for teenagers.

But this recruitment guide was undoubtedly authentic.

It was the recruitment guide for the 'school' I had attended.

"Have you graduated from middle school?"

"No, I'm going into my second year."

"These days, it seems they're even taking students who haven't graduated from middle school."

"When are you talking about? These days, they even accept elementary school students."

"Really?"

I carefully read the recruitment brochure.

Indeed, it was true. The admission age had been drastically lowered. They were accepting anyone over ten years old, not just those who had graduated from middle school. It seemed like there were hardly any adults around.

But what caught my attention more than the age requirement was the overwhelming benefits. There were many benefits for the students' families, including living support, housing support, and providing national jobs for parents and family members. Sending one child to school improved the entire family's livelihood. However, in the fine print at the back, there were numerous small and densely packed words that looked like a brick wall. When I tried to read them, the boy closed the laptop.

"Shall we talk on the rooftop?"

"Talk?"

"Business talk!"

On the rooftop, laundry swayed in the wind, and there was an elderly person with Demetia standing there like a statue. Beyond them, the setting sun cast a mysterious and primitive atmosphere over the flattened ruins of nuclear attacks.

As stars began to appear on the boundary between day and night, the boy asked me.

"I've always been curious, what do you do, sir?"

"What do you mean?"

"You always carry around so many things when you come. You even had a gun from the beginning. I thought you might be a gangster, but it doesn't seem like it. Even now, in these times, you look fine, and you still carry around so much stuff, so I was curious."

"What do you think?"

"A gangster? A robber?"

"Can't you see the innocence in my eyes?"

"Apocalyptic prepper?"

The boy gazed at one of the stars with a faint smile.

"You know well."

"I wanted to be an apocalyptic prepper too."

"Oh, really?"

"Why not? It's fun, isn't it? Creating your own hideout, stocking up on things you like. Wasn't it fun for you too?"

"I did have some fun, but it was tough later when I ran out of money."

The boy handed me his laptop.

"How about trading it for some cigarettes? You must have a lot."

"Selling them to kids will get me in jail, you know?"

"It's a different time now, right? My pitiful dad always puffs on cigarettes and I will sell the rest to buy gifts for mom. Before I go to school!"

I traded cigarettes with the boy. I bought them for a much higher price than the market rate, but it was a satisfying deal in many ways.

As the deal was made, the elderly man with Demetia, who had been standing like a statue in the background, turned his head towards us and shouted something, but it was barely audible.

"When I enter that school, I won't have to hear my mom and dad argue anymore, right? I can even send my grandparents to a better place."

When we came downstairs together, the boy's words were much more impressive. He was a deep kid. I wondered how a child like him could survive in such a household.

The next day, when I was about to leave the international residence, the atmosphere in the restaurant was festive. It wasn't the guests or residents who filled the restaurant, but the landlady's friends. The landlady sat prominently in the centre of the restaurant, surrounded by other women.

"I envy you. Our kids hang out with gangster-like kids."

"I heard it's not easy to pass, but he managed to, didn't he?"

"Hunter school entrance students' families get additional housing rights, is that true?"

Amidst numerous praises, envy, and jealousy, the landlady beamed with a bright smile.

"Ah, our Yeongmin's dad. He may be like an enemy, but I'm a bit grateful. For raising such an excellent child. Well, Yeongmin's dad, even if people are lazy, their nature is good, right?"

Watching the family, about to disintegrate before, now bonding more closely than any other family due to the boy's decision, I left the residence.

The boy's laptop was extremely satisfying.

SKELTON: (Skeleton NewCom) A new laptop hehe

There were no comments, but for my post the view count was quite high. It was a moment where I could feel the envy and jealousy of my fellow community members.

The cheerful smile of the landlady had been copied onto my face.

It wasn't until two months later that I reread the recruitment brochure for Hunter School, which was stored on the laptop.

I accidentally stumbled upon a private folder hidden by the boy. Alongside the recruitment brochure, there were daily schedules, photos taken with elementary school friends, family photos taken abroad, and an unusually large number of photos of an unnamed girl.

I hesitantly read the back of the recruitment brochure that I hadn't gotten to earlier, filled with a sense of unease.

A warning message written in a corner immediately caught my attention.

• Final candidates will undergo three high-level psychic sensitivity tests, and during the process, may be exposed to some accidents.

"······Some accidents."

Nonsense.

I knew very well what those tests entailed. It was a trial of death, filtering out those not chosen by the gods. I, as someone with more experience than anyone else, understood it well.

The tests were a trial of death.

When I returned to Seoul, I visited the international residence first. From the beginning, something didn't seem right. The old man and woman who used to guard the entrance were nowhere to be seen. With growing unease, I entered the store.

As luck would have it, there was a change in ownership.

"What happened? Do you have any questions?"

"Well, the previous owner..."

At that moment, an old man walked past the store outside. In tattered clothes and unwashed, he resembled the old man who used to live in this house, even in the deep darkness.

"Don't go. Don't go. Don't go..."

Mumbling, he staggered away as if walking on an unfamiliar street.

In the darkness beyond him, a lively girl was smoking with a rough group of people. She, too, looked like the boy's sister who used to live in that house.

Our eyes met for just a brief moment, but the girl turned her gaze away, expressing her displeasure strongly.

The moment I saw that, I stopped the question I had intended to ask.

"No, it's nothing."

On the brighter side of the street, a businessman was hawking lottery tickets, exchanging them for cash among the crowd.

I joined the group and asked about the price of the lottery ticket, eventually exchanging one lottery ticket for two cigarettes.

After that, I didn't visit the international residence.

I don't know anything about that family's news.

So, their fate remains hopeful.

Just like my unverified lottery ticket, for which the draw has already been done, but I haven't checked the results yet.

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