There’s a saying: birds of a feather flock together.

It applies to the internet world as well.

People around me—those with near-mythical “name value”—tend to become famous themselves.

The Rebecca mother-and-daughter pair, who started out as total newbies with no particular wit or skill, were no exception.

Gradually, they became names known on the North America board.

Frankly, the Rebecca pair was destined for notoriety.

As the war wound toward its final stages, the U.S. began recalling its forces stationed around the world. Most went home, but there were soldiers like Rebecca who were left behind.

The largest group left abroad had been the elite unit stationed in Taiwan, but word from them was cut off for good two years ago.

In this situation, it was only natural that the U.S. troops left in Korea—Rebecca and her daughter among them—would draw attention.

Still, the two remained on the fringes for a long time.

That was because they simply weren’t interested in having influence on the boards.

I’d once analyzed her posting habits: about 10% looking for her husband, 20% venting her frustrations about living abroad, 20% browsing boards based on her interests, and the remaining 50% consisted of bashing Korea.

Over time, the ratio of Korea-bashing went down, replaced by more board-browsing. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

They didn’t seem to care about gaining popularity.

It was the internet habit of someone who saw it as a pastime rather than a world in itself.

She only became a “name” on the North America board recently—around the time she moved back near our bunker, and Ha Tae-hoon abandoned mine ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) under pressure from the U.S. troops.

The fact that our prickly allies were struggling to return to their homeland was well enough known that even New Seoul had heard the story.

People assumed they were repairing a military transport plane to cross the Pacific and return to North America.

But crossing an ocean in an airplane is no easy matter.

In the old days, with functioning satellites overhead and air traffic control towers around the world sending signals, you could cross the Pacific on autopilot. Now? The planes’ conditions were questionable, and all the old navigation systems were gone.

On top of that, there were nearly 300 U.S. troops and family members.

Sure, they might repair a single aircraft—but packing that many people into one was dangerous in every way.

So, what they came up with was an airship—something history had long left behind.

Rebecca moved back and forth to the U.S. base, reporting the airship’s progress to North America.

For North American users, constantly hearing that once-iconic American cities and regions were falling to monsters, her posts were a rare spark of hope.

Anonymous45: Lately I only check this series.

In_domini_LK: God bless them and bring them here.

PennKIX1978: Coming here doesn’t mean paradise awaits.

Daniel81: Better to die in your homeland than anywhere else, no?

Anonymous71: Can’t wait to see them take off.

Zebusika: Helium will be hard to get—are they using hydrogen gas?

coral8103: Hope they don’t repeat the Hindenburg.

Every time she posted an update, the North America board lit up.

Personally, I think the subject matter was interesting enough, but it felt like they were also forcing themselves to cheer for her—just to turn their eyes from the hell in front of them.

Because North America’s situation really is that bad.

They no longer call the massive bursts of monsters from rifts “outbursts.”

They call them invasions.

And they’re not wrong.

From nearly every rift, new species appear alongside proven older models, small breeds, and new “horde types,” filling the front lines and driving humans off their native ground.

The U.S. government collapsed long ago, leaving only scattered military commands, state governments, and even gangs resisting in their own territories.

California—where Vivabot lives—is still holding out, but the East and Midwest were swallowed by the gray tide long ago.

So the English board user saying there’s no guarantee of a bright future even if the remaining U.S. troops return home—that’s fair.

Still, only a few share that concern, and most drown them out.

As for me—I’m neutral.

Until now, my exchanges with Rebecca and Sue were only casual; we never broached the real subject.

But now it was time.

Our new territory had stabilized, and the U.S. troops’ project was nearly complete.

SKELTON: Should I drop by?

My fingers felt heavier on the keys than usual.

It might be the last meeting.

Partings weigh more than meetings.

*

Not every raider is pure harm.

Because you can plunder a raider’s loot.

Their surprise attack on our territory had bite, but they left some useful goods behind.

Def_Sirae’s crew took the key supplies like firearms, but we still got our share.

Among them—a powered scooter taken from the lead raider Kim Daram shot down.

The previous owner had armored the motor and battery like a tank, but we stripped that off since we’d just use it normally.

It was sturdy, ran well enough, and best of all—it was light enough to use and toss away if needed.

An upgraded version of the bicycle I’d once favored.

I had company—Defender.

“I know those two. We weren’t exactly close, but I am curious. How the hell are they getting back to the States?”

He’d brought a scooter too—gas-powered.

One of those “City” scooters everyone used to ride, with some blood-red, illegible Chinese characters scrawled on the front—probably the work of some fanatic. Still, the scooter itself looked fine.

Knowing Defender’s knack for finding, fixing, and hiding things, I didn’t bother asking where he’d gotten it.

But the burrs clinging to his thick winter combat pants told me he’d been combing the area nonstop.

Maybe he was already searching for another safehouse beyond Def_Sirae’s territory.

That’s his business.

Either way, he’s a solid travel companion—no doubt about it.

“Let’s head back from here.”

He already knew the situation farther out.

“Small group, fewer than ten, but they’ve got that dangerous vibe. Looks like they’ve got combat vets.”

Cheon Young-jae’s a fine partner, but the most comfortable one is someone who knows the roads.

Driving somewhere you know versus somewhere you don’t—that’s night and day.

Before long, I reached “my territory.”

Blanketed in white, it hit me with a wave of nostalgia sharp enough to sting my eyes.

That hill over there—that’s where my bunker is.

I wanted to take a look, but according to Jeon Si-hoon’s forecast, no snow was expected for a while.

No need to leave tracks.

A seasoned scavenger like Defender prefers to track people by footprints or tire marks.

Beyond my bunker, several plumes of smoke rose into the sky.

In this world, openly making smoke is a sign of power.

Even Def_Sirae’s group only does it at dawn and dusk.

But the U.S. military—once the strongest in the world—could be forgiven for flaunting thick black smoke in broad daylight.

Not that they need forgiveness. The mounted machine guns and hard-eyed guards alone would deter anyone from trying anything.

But today’s goal wasn’t the U.S. base.

I knew people there, but we weren’t close, and I could barely remember their names.

Today was about Rebecca.

She and her daughter lived in a small settlement neighboring our territory.

I could’ve contacted them by radio, but there was no need.

As always, I stopped at the entrance to the village—where they always kept watch—and looked up at the building they hid in.

Soon, someone appeared on the roof.

Tall and slender, with long limbs.

I thought it was Rebecca, but no—it was Sue.

She waved vigorously.

*

“I’ll keep watch from down here.”

Defender volunteered for sentry duty.

“Didn’t you come to see them?”

He gave a faint smile.

“Just seeing them from here is enough. Knowing they’re alive—that’s my reward. I wish Da-jeong could see them too.”

I nodded and walked toward Sue, who was waiting.

“Skeleton!”

She’d definitely grown taller—almost Rebecca’s height, nearly matching mine.

Her face still had traces of youth, but in today’s ruined world, anyone who can carry a gun is an adult.

“Yeah. All’s well?”

“Mm-hm.”

After exchanging a glance with Defender, I followed her into Rebecca’s building.

The hallway was still filled with American signs and décor—though their colors had faded.

I wondered if her hatred for Korea had faded in proportion.

She was wearing pants that were, ironically, quintessentially Korean—mompe.

Strictly speaking, they originated in Japan, but given how common they’d been in Korea, it was fair to call them Korean here.

“What’s with those?”

“Oh, these? Super comfy.”

Her Korean was now as soft and natural as the clothes.

After all, she’d lived here for ten years.

It takes not just a lack of will to learn, but a stubborn will not to, to avoid learning a language after that long.

She was tanning leather in the spacious living room.

The air was cold, the smell pungent with chemicals, but the leather was enormous—clearly from a mutated animal.

“Mutation?”

She nodded.

“Yeah. Got it in a trap. Shared the meat with the camp.”

Wooden carvings were scattered about—animals, people, but mostly the Statue of Liberty.

It felt like watching an Asian carve Buddhas.

She stripped off her jacket, pointed upward.

“Shall we go up?”

I nodded.

Upstairs was cozy enough, even without a fire.

Sue brought hot tea in a thermos.

“What’s this?”

Jasmine.

Unexpected—but good.

Watching her, I asked out of the blue:

“Not into ‘juicy’ anymore?”

She shrugged.

“Lately I like it spicy.”

“I see.”

Her tastes had grown with her height.

But from the start, I’d sensed something heavy in the air between Rebecca and Sue.

I could ignore it—but they’d been my first neighbors.

Casually, I probed:

“Something wrong?”

And with a smile:

“If it’s a monster, I can take care of it.”

Rebecca shook her head.

“I wish it were monsters.”

Sue sighed, meeting my eyes.

Yep—trouble.

But not mine to fix.

“There’s a split.”

Unanimity is a fantasy.

The U.S. troops knew the situation back home.

Even if it wasn’t their homeland, they controlled the area around their base—and Korea hadn’t seen anything like the massive offensives in America.

If they returned, all that awaited them was gunfire, fighting, hunger, and another fight for survival.

The airship didn’t help.

Just as the North America board predicted, they were building it with hydrogen.

They’d received helium from Seoul, but after losing it to trial-and-error, they had no choice but to switch.

And hydrogen airships had burned in the air before, killing hundreds—despite the best engineers and staff of the day.

Now they were building one from old documents.

Even if they launched, getting there was another problem.

From the high-altitude wind charts Rebecca had given me, it was clear—crossing an ocean to North America by airship was no easy task.

The propellers were secondary; ultimately, the currents steered the craft.

A mistake could drop them far from their goal.

Even in North America, landing in the East or North—now gray wastelands—was death.

That was the source of the discord in camp.

“Half want to go. Half want to stay.”

Caught in that fierce split, Rebecca hadn’t decided.

Sue, though—she had.

“I’m going.”

She looked out into the empty air with resolute eyes.

“I want to see it with my own eyes. The place where I was born.”

I nodded.

She’d grown well.

Just a few years ago, she’d had such small hands—now she was a fine young woman.

Not my daughter, but I was proud.

That left Rebecca.

“What do you want to do?”

She looked troubled.

“I don’t know...”

People change.

The Rebecca who once loathed Korea and longed for home was now hesitating at the foot of the airship that could take her back.