Hiding a House in the Apocalypse

"First, you need to roll the wool with your hands to make it round. Beginners may find it challenging to get the right amount, but you'll get used to it with practice."

Inside the dark underground shelter, there is the light of a monitor and the warm voice of a man.

This video is not from before the war. It was recorded at the current point in time, more than a year after the war began.

Its source is none other than our community, "Viva! Apocalypse!"

This thriving website continued to operate even after the nuclear missiles fell.

Watching it cost nearly a hundred dollars a month, excluding satellite communication equipment, and it felt like I was being scammed, but our founder, Melon Mask, was a person with both reputation and responsibility, as well as technical skills.

The city he lived in was destroyed by nuclear missile baptism, and he probably burned to death inside, but the legacy he left behind became a star in the sky, forever joining humanity beyond the sky in the form of servers mounted on an extra-terrestrial satellite.

"Viva! Apocalypse!" is one of the few internet communities that still exist at this point in time.

Even though my mentor, John-nenon, has disappeared, the community still maintains a level of activity sufficient to engage only Koreans.

Of course, not everyone there is sane.

I put four of my fellow users on the blocklist.

There were false religious fanatics who kept talking nonsense about evacuation, attention-seeking individuals who posted their unwanted diaries every minute, schizophrenics who picked fights with anyone, and psychopaths who enjoyed hunting humans and proudly posted about it.

On the other hand, there were decent people too.

Anonymous 337, the creator of the "Making Felt Dolls for My Daughter (Part 3)" video that I'm currently watching, is one of them.

Anonymous 337 was a man with a kind and warm demeanour, an adult-like figure that I didn't possess.

Instead of relieving his emptiness inside the shelter with alcohol or drugs, he created toys for his son and daughter and uploaded videos of the process with sweet music and clever editing to the forum.

His craftsmanship was excellent, and the robot model he made for his son through woodworking could have been sold in stores with its quality.

He wanted to see his son's joy when receiving the gift, but he quietly uploaded only the process of the work.

Perhaps he was hesitant to reveal his family for security reasons.

In fact, in his videos, no voices other than his own could be heard, which seemed to demonstrate how meticulous Anonymous 337 was.

I also tried to imitate Anonymous 337's creation process and make a robot, but with my clumsy hands, I failed to make a robot and ended up creating something that resembled an abomination from the village of unknowns.

Recently, he has been serializing the process of making felt sheep dolls for his seven-year-old daughter.

I secretly hoped for the completion of his work with the same high quality as the robot he made for his son.

"Make the ears like this. It may look difficult, but it's easy with the right technique."

His doll was not yet complete, but it was so cute and lovely that I wanted to buy felt and tools when I next visited Seoul to try it myself.

***

It has been one year since the war started.

The world has become more difficult to live in than when the war began.

Although there are no longer nuclear missiles or air raids, the influence of the monsters has extended not only near the ceasefire line but also in the southern regions, and trade has been disrupted. The government has already lost control, and recovery seems impossible.

The community has also been affected by the ominous atmosphere.

KaosGate: Recently, the number of refugees has increased. They are peeking around my bunker.

Anonymous 121: Even in the south, refugees started wandering around from the beginning. Be cautious, everyone. If you help the refugees out of pity, they might turn into bandits and come back.

Posts about refugees have recently been on the rise. Although there may be an actual increase in refugees, several community users have disappeared recently.

Among them was the diary-posting schizophrenic whom I had blocked.

In the community, it was concluded that the recent disappearance of users was the work of the refugees.

Qwer1234: It's the refugees. They killed and took over the bunkers. They probably killed their families too.

RealKorean: Keep an eye out for those refugee bastards. I'll blow their heads off with a shotgun.

Some users in the community have already declared refugees as enemies.

Well, I am skeptical.

Refugees are just refugees.

There may be some experts among them who have received specialized search training, but how many of them could there be in South Korea?

Perhaps some of them had bad luck with geography and run into bunkers.

There were no people with a perspective similar to mine.

Coincidentally, a person whom I blocked had a similar thought.

His username is Defender.

In the community, he is known as a human hunter.

Since the war began, the human hunter has periodically posted murder certifications.

He reported what he did irregularly with two photos: one of a victim's body taken from a distance and another with a black plastic bag covering the victim's face, along with the victim's fingerprint taken with ink placed next to the bag.

He killed different people each time.

The methods were varied.

Sometimes he used a gun, and other times he beat them to death with a blunt object.

When killing women and children, he used only a black plastic bag.

It wasn't for amusement.

"The reason is one and only one. Because they invaded his territory."

In my opinion, whether it's a psychotic killer or this guy, it doesn't make much difference.

I unblocked him and searched for his posts.

Defender: It's not the work of refugees.

Defender: Didn't you hire construction companies for the bunkers when they were being built?

Defender: Be cautious of bunker construction company guys. They know your locations.

Finally, the human hunter posted his usual murder certification.

However, this time, he didn't cover the victim's body with a black bag.

His pale and frozen face, along with the usual evidence, was displayed, including a construction contract and an ID card.

There's no doubt about it.

They were employees of the construction company he had a contract with.

Community users ignored his words.

Was it because they didn't want to listen to the human hunter, or because he was revealing a harsh reality that was hard to accept?

I'll leave that to the imagination.

But a more important issue arose.

My favourite community user, Anonymous 337, had disappeared.

As a father who was more family-oriented and skilled with his hands than anyone else, his disappearance had a profound impact on me.

Time passed, and it was transitioning from autumn to winter.

The temperature had dropped below freezing, and the chilly wind, laden with the scent of impending snow, blew from west to east.

The situation in the community was getting colder too.

Anonymous 231: Hey, is Anonymous 423 still alive? It feels like it's been a while since this guy posted. If he's alive, at least hit the 'like' button once. Do it next time.

Lone_wolf: Kaos_Gate, hasn't this guy also disappeared?

Now, the disappearance of colleagues was not uncommon.

Many users had gone into hiding.

Despite their preparations and attempts to survive, they had disappeared from the community, unable to overcome the harsh realities.

No one posted words of mourning.

Because no one could predict when the next turn would be theirs.

However, I had never imagined that I would be next.

They appeared when the snowflakes, like fine particles of radiation, were about to cover the golf course area and my territory completely.

A group of people in trucks showed up at the golf course and approached my territory directly.

I observed them through binoculars and recognized a familiar face among them.

"…I have seen that guy?"

It was probably Hong Bujang.

He was a construction company employee who had participated when I built my first bunker.

As Kim Wangsoo's superior, he was not particularly praiseworthy, and he always went about alone, earning him a somewhat bad reputation.

Kim also frequently complained about Hong Bujang when he wasn't around.

"Hong Bujang. This guy hasn't changed in over ten years, even though we've known each other. If you do manual labour for so long, you should become a foreman, but he's still acting like a damn kid."

For him to return to my territory was not a good sign, and it wasn't just him, but four armed men.

I recalled the human hunter's post.

Defender: Be cautious of bunker construction company guys. They know your locations.

The culprit is usually someone nearby.

People who worked for construction companies assisting in bunker construction remembered the bunkers and came back to visit their old clients.

You could call it an after-death service.

Their voices were transmitted through earphones connected to listening devices spread throughout the area.

"Is this the place?"

"Yeah. This is the place. That's the golf course, and that's the Air Force base over there. In between. Under that rough hill, I built a bunker for them."

"Are you sure it's a bunker?"

"According to that guy, they're building an underground theater, but who would come to a place like this in the middle of nowhere? Later, we got a few more bids and built some more, but it's definitely a bunker. Bunker."

"How many of them are there?"

"As far as I know, only one. At most, it's probably a family."

A brief conversation succinctly summarized the entire situation.

Hong Bujang.

He had come to kill me.

To kill me and take everything from me.

"..."

I turned off the lights and waited for them in the darkness after opening the entrance to the bunker.

No firearms were raised.

Instead, I held two axes.

Thunk-

Two men appeared at the wide-open entrance of the bunker.

The man in the front was armed with a riot shield and a baton for crowd control, and the man behind him carried an M16 rifle.

"The entrance! It's open!"

The man with the gun turned on a lantern and scanned the inside of the bunker.

Simultaneously, cheers erupted from both men.

"Jackpot! Cigarettes! Cigarettes! How many packs are there?"

The cigarettes were what I had left out.

To lure them inside.

However, these looters were definitely not ordinary.

Even after discovering the loot, they didn't move.

They were working together meticulously.

Especially Hong Bujang; this guy was no pushover.

"Can you smell corpses inside?"

The front men turned their heads sideways.

"No, there's no smell."

"There's no such stench."

Hong Bujang's voice followed.

"Check inside. Every nook and cranny."

There was no doubt.

This wasn't their first time plundering.

"Don't rush in. Set up the shield and proceed slowly. There might be someone hiding inside."

But.

Swish-

I was quick.

I waited for the moment when the light from the lantern swept over me like a spotlight.

The instant the light hit me, I sprang out on the defender, forcefully pushing away the front man's shield with a powerful kick.

"Ugh!"

The shield-bearing man stumbled backward, inadvertently shoving the man with the gun.

Thud!

Amid the thunderous gunshot and the flashing light, I spotted two enemies.

As the falling man's hand raised the shield, it slowly descended in what seemed like slow motion, and I counted silently.

Three, two, one.

Then, I threw.

Swish-

The axe flew in a graceful arc toward the man with the gun.

The man who had just fired a shot tried to level his weapon at me, but before he could, the axe pierced his forehead, piercing through his brainstem.

"Aaargh!"

A scream erupted from the shield-bearing man's mouth.

He tried to rise, writhing to get up after witnessing his comrade's death, but my foot crushed him to the ground faster than he could react.

As I pulled out the axe from the fallen gun-wielding man, the other axe I had been spinning continued its rotation. I swung both axes simultaneously, hitting the head of the shield-bearing man.

Crack!

"Cheolho! Hyeongshiki!"

Desperate voices of the looters could be heard.

I quietly hid in the darkness, waiting for the next victim.

Hong Bujang was not an ordinary guy either.

"Youngsik, calm down! Going in there means death."

He calmed down his agitated companion.

"Cheolho's dead!"

"Do we have tear gas? Throw it in. Don't go into that raccoon's den yourself; make him come out."

He immediately suggested an appropriate alternative.

A faint smile crossed my lips.

Indeed, Hong Bujang was no ordinary guy.

I replied by closing the heavy door to the bunker.

"The door's closed!"

"Ignore it. There should be ventilation shafts."

Hong Bujang also adapted quickly.

"There's only one entrance. I built it during the construction. You can tell just by looking at the blueprint. Everywhere else is blocked with concrete. Find the ventilation shaft. If you release gas, let's see how he comes out."

It was like playing war game.

I hadn't expected to be fighting with a bunch of looters like this.

But there was one thing he didn't know.

After Hong Bujang and his team completed the bunker, I expanded my bunker with the knowledge I gained from them.

One of those additions was the emergency exit I had created by demolishing a wall.

Hong Bujang would never know this fact.

Because he was an incompetent builder.

He would never imagine that I had become a better builder than him.

Holding one of the guns, I calmly exited through the second bunker entrance and looked towards the main bunker.

I saw the looters searching for the ventilation shaft.

Bang!

A gunshot rang out, and one man fell.

Bang!

Without giving them a chance, I brought down the second one.

The last one left was Hong Bujang.

Without a gun, he raised his hands in surrender.

I approached him with the gun pointed at him and asked, "How many times did you do this?"

In response, Hong Bujang forced a bitter smile and shrugged.

"This is our first time."

With the gun pressed harshly against his forehead, Hong Bujang answered.

"...Four."

"You looted quite a bit."

I ordered him to load the bodies into the truck.

While the bodies were being loaded one by one into the cargo area, I noticed something familiar.

"..."

It was a human-shaped doll made of felt.

The moment I saw it, I felt something inside me snap.

"Where did you get this?"

"From another bunker."

Hong Bujang replied, panting heavily.

"Anyone inside?"

"One man."

"They must have had a family, right?"

"..."

"You killed them all?"

Thwack!

I struck him in the back of the head with the back of my gun.

Hong Bujang screamed in pain, but I gave him new pain to supress his old pain.

I delivered a couple more kicks to his abdomen, and he quickly knelt down and opened his mouth.

"It's true! He was alone! Alone! Damn it! He was already dead when I got there!"

"Where is it?"

The location was surprisingly close.

A 30-minute drive in the truck.

With Hong Bujang leading the way, we entered the looted bunker.

It was exactly as I expected.

This was the place shown in the video.

There was already a completed central bunker among the looted ones.

On a familiar warm-feeling desk lay a man, half-decomposed, apparently having committed suicide.

The splatters of blood around the workspace hinted at his suicide.

I looked around.

It was an incredibly narrow bunker.

It would be challenging to live here alone.

"Is this where you're going to release me? You promised, didn't you?"

I added another dead body and returned home to check the video.

Come to think of it, there had never been the sound of children's voices in his videos.

That was indeed the case.

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