Hiding a House in the Apocalypse

Even in the face of annihilation, there are stages.

Opinions may vary among individuals, but a key indicator for distinguishing these stages is the state of the country.

The most serious stage always presupposes the collapse of a nation.

Ever since the Chinese military regime triggered the suicide war, nuclear missiles had rained down on major cities in South Korea, signalling the beginning of the country's collapse.

Many people died, and numerous cities were reduced to rubble, but at that point, the South Korean government was still intact.

There was no need to venture outside.

Simply receiving shortwave radio or TV broadcasts allowed us to access the national emergency broadcast, keeping us informed about the current situation.

Due to the EMP, the main TV we used was rendered useless, but I replaced it with an emergency one I had prepared, and then I observed the situation.

Millions had perished, and about half of the city's functions had ground to a halt, but Seoul and its nearby regions were quickly stabilizing, thanks to the efforts of military personnel, government workers, and volunteers.

I had left my well-prepared hideout for a reason.

"I'm looking for Hunter Lee Sanghoon."

Among the busy soldiers, I singled out someone who seemed more approachable and asked.

"Hunter Lee Sanghoon?"

"Yes, he's currently the Disaster Relief Coordinator."

"Don't you see they're busy right now?"

Despite his gruff demeanour, the man became surprisingly kind when I offered a few packs of cigarettes.

"Oh, you're looking for Director Lee Sanghoon. He has a pretty common name."

"Oh. He got promoted, I see. He's different from when we went to school together."

"Just wait for a moment. I'll try to get in touch. What should I tell him your name is?"

"Tell him it's Park Gyura, we went to school together. If he doesn't remember, say I was the top graduate of our class."

A while later, the soldier returned.

"Director Lee Sanghoon says he's in a meeting right now and it's hard to contact him."

"Is that so?"

"What's going on? If there's anything I can help with, I'll do my best."

I didn't come here to meet Lee Sanghoon.

I knew he wouldn't meet me.

In fact, I didn't want to meet him either.

I had a different reason for dropping Lee Sanghoon's name.

"I'd like to request military walkie-talkies and individual identification numbers."

In some areas, cell phones still worked, but many areas had no signal.

Especially the farther you were from the city, the more useless cell phones became.

In these circumstances, the most useful means of communication was the high-performance shortwave transceiver, the K-Walkie-Talkie.

It was bulkier and had a more complicated user interface compared to cell phones, but it was highly reliable. If you tuned to the public frequency, you could communicate with anyone in the vicinity without knowing their number.

That alone made it a handy tool. But military walkie-talkies, compared to civilian ones, were a step higher in quality and could access encrypted military frequencies.

This meant that, at this point in time, it was possible to obtain information directly from the most reliable military group and source of information.

"Since you seem to know Director Lee Sanghoon, I can provide you with the walkie-talkie for free. However, I can't assign you a personal identification number. Those are only given to military personnel or monster response personnel."

I didn't expect personal identification numbers from the start.

The soldier handed me a brand new walkie-talkie, which I carefully checked on the spot to ensure it had no defects and ran a quick test. The results were perfect; it was in good working order.

This marked the moment when my mission to come to Seoul was fulfilled.

With the remaining time, I rode my bicycle around Seoul city.

According to reports, five nuclear missiles had been launched toward Seoul, but four of them were intercepted in mid-air, and only one had landed within the city walls. The number of casualties was still being counted, but it was easily over a million.

Roads had turned into impromptu parking lots for vehicles that couldn't go anywhere, and the city was scattered with ruins.

Particularly, an entry ban had been imposed inside the city walls where the nuclear missiles had hit directly.

People who had lost their homes roamed around aimlessly, and hospitals were overwhelmed with casualties and injured individuals lying on the streets.

The security situation didn't seem too bad, but it was unclear whether the strong security presence or the fact that citizens had little energy left to commit crimes was the reason.

The effects of the EMP were lower than expected. While a significant number of vehicles and base stations had stopped functioning, many functioning base stations and cell phones were still operational. Power was gradually being restored, prioritizing essential areas.

What people feared most was the next attack. According to the government's announcement, they had retaliated and obliterated the origin of the provocation with nuclear strikes, but few people believed it outright.

As I roamed around Seoul, an air raid alert went off, and I sought refuge in the subway. Inside, I saw many refugees.

In the underground subway, it was overcrowded with people to the point of being jam-packed.

"?"

Inside the subway, I momentarily doubted my eyes.

< Samsung 'Best Louise Billington' Resident Zone >

< LVMH 'Chief Headstone' Resident Zone >

< Brandia 'Proud Noble Hill' Resident Zone >

< Lotu 'Rupert Laich Palace' Resident Zone >

...

...

The subway was divided into sections, each corresponding to different apartment complexes.

People who didn't have visible badges were meticulously marking their territories, despite not having actual badges. A man in his sixties wearing a worn-out red hat suddenly appeared in front of me and curtly asked:

"Hey, are you from around here?"

"I'm still in my twenties. I'm 29 years old."

"No, I mean, are you from this neighbourhood?"

"No."

"Non-residents, go over there."

Finally, without even looking at me, he waved his hand dismissively.

The non-resident zone was in the farthest corner of the subway station.

< Rental and Other >

A place where even the light barely reached.

Some people were wandering around with gloomy expressions, and faint radio sounds could be heard here and there.

"...This attack isn't a nuclear strike; it's a cruise missile attack. The military interception units will intercept it with the spirit of Admiral Yi Sunsin, but just in case of unforeseen circumstances..."

Soon, the ground trembled subtly, and a distant, muffled explosion, probably echoing through the walls, resonated softly within the subway station.

Thud, thud.

Experiencing an attack in an unfamiliar underground shelter with people whose names I didn't even know wasn't a pleasant experience.

Creak.

As my stomach growled, I took out a chocolate bar and started peeling it. Suddenly, a group of curious eyes turned towards me, like a swarm of mice eyeing my chocolate bar.

Just the stares were uncomfortable enough, but then an unfamiliar child approached me and stared at me with watery eyes.

Gulp.

Perhaps they hadn't eaten properly.

Even though I had enough body fat to go without food for a month just by appearances, the child seemed hungry.

The child's apparent parents approached belatedly and took the child away, giving me resentful looks.

"Excuse me."

I extended a fresh chocolate bar and asked a few questions.

"Do you need supplies? I know they've been scarce. But even this..."

The child's parents glanced at the people who had belatedly taken control of the entrance with resentful eyes.

Instead of the people who barely spoke, I asked a question from this side.

"Did the residents monopolize everything?"

The child's parents nodded silently.

"I see."

It was a fresh discovery. In times of crisis, people naturally formed profit groups, but Koreans had their unique focal points.

In the Joseon era, there might have been village communities, but in the modern age, there were apartment complexes.

The more units there were and the stronger the residents' cohesion, the greater the power of the apartment complex.

In reality, this power balance was clearly visible within this cramped underground shelter.

Strong complexes secured good locations and monopolized resources, while those who didn't belonged to weaker areas with meager resources.

It was a distinctly Korean scene.

Soon, the all-clear alert echoed from various directions.

All clear! All clear! Citizens are advised to exit and resume their livelihoods.

After bidding farewell to the family I had spent a short time with, I left the subway.

When I tried to leave the subway, I noticed the signs distinguishing different apartment complexes and the residents of each complex that I had seen earlier.

"..."

Well, they won't harass me, I hope.

Koreans couldn't tolerate bicycle theft, even though they might endure other forms of theft.

I could feel many prying eyes on me as I passed by with my bicycle. It seemed they were eyeing my bicycle but fortunately, there were no actual threats.

Well, this was Korea, and we still had a chance to live, and the country was still standing.

I unintentionally overheard their conversation.

"I heard the recent bombing hit the downtown area. Apparently, the Chinese included chemical weapons in the missiles. It's not just us; the damage is extensive."

Up to this point, their conversation was entirely expected.

However, one woman's blunt statement suddenly made me stop in my tracks.

"They say it's good luck."

For a moment, I doubted my ears.

"?"

No, not in this situation.

"You're calling this good luck? They say there aren't even a few decent residential complexes left in Seoul, and if everyone else falls, won't our neighbourhood become the most upscale residential area?"

If one or two people said something like this, it might have been brushed off, but human behaviour always went beyond imagination.

Listening and seeing it, it's an incredible stroke of luck."

"Our apartment complex will become the top luxury complex in Seoul."

"My friend used to brag about his neighborhood all the time, but now it's worthless."

"I can't wait for the war to end so we can quickly sort out the rankings."

"It seems like opportunities only come during a crisis."

Since the war began, I had avoided looking at other people's faces whenever possible. After all, we were all going to die soon.

But this time, I couldn't help but glance at their faces. They were ordinary people you could find anywhere. That's why my anger ran even deeper.

"Isn't this a bit too much?"

I asked once more, knowing that I wouldn't see these faces again.

Their response was a cold, silent glare. A middle-aged woman with a sardonic smile exchanged glances with the other residents and then said a single word.

"Go your own way."

***

That day, there was no way to find out the fate of the entire "Rupert Leichter Palace" complex. I had no interest in the people who considered the world ending as a stroke of luck.

However, I knew what happened to the residents of "Rupert Leichter Palace."

It was about a month after when a few mutated creatures that could kill humans appeared near my base. It wasn't monsters that attacked them but rather creatures contaminated and mutated by the pathogen brought by the monsters. They were mutations.

Some stray cats that used to be taken care of by a mother cat in the area got infected by the mutation genes and turned into creatures the size of tigers. Now, they were determined to exterminate humans using their abilities that had previously led them to the extinction of tigers and natural monuments.

Their combat power might be weaker than the "Gold Pack," a group of mutated killer dogs operating in the south, but against ordinary people, they were unmatched.

Tat-tat-tat!

Gunshots and desperate cries filled the air, along with the agonizing screams in the Walkie-Talkies.

"Crackle! We are the Rupert Leichter Palace residents' assembly! We are under attack by monsters! Repeat! This is Rupert Shibu-L Palace residents' assembly!"

Listening quietly on the radio, I made one comment.

"Lucky, aren't they?"

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