Whether by intention, coincidence, or the will of Melon Mask—who exists neither fully alive nor fully dead—we Viva! Apocalypse! users periodically receive pale photographs and the current coordinates of Melon’s spaceship.

According to the latest post, Melon Mask has passed Venus and is now heading toward Jupiter’s orbit.

His trajectory is to swing by Jupiter for acceleration, then break free of the solar system in one shot.

It’s certainly an extraordinary feat, but on the cosmic scale, his drifting is no different from countless specks of dust wandering space.

The only difference is that inside lies a soul and memory that were once alive—perhaps even still alive.

From Deadman_working’s perspective, that too is nothing but an echo.

He sent me a photograph.

Until now, we had only exchanged text, images conjured in words. This time he sent me an actual picture.

The world in that photo was shrouded in ashen gray, as though snow had fallen and rotted away.

Message from deadman_working: As you can see, it’s the end.

That the end is coming is undeniable.

Japan has collapsed nearby, scattering debris in all directions. Even North America, once considered humanity’s bulwark, is eroding day by day under unending assaults.

And yet, such stories feel distant.

Tens of millions dying out of sight and hearing—it’s no different than statistics in a book.

Only our country remains quiet.

But not for much longer.

Jeon Si-hoon is moving in earnest.

He’s demanding the submission of major survivor groups, starting with Park Penguin’s, and is now trying to exert influence over Sejong.

Sejong is especially dire.

As though to prove that two kings cannot coexist, Jeon Si-hoon has ramped up pressure on Sejong rather than touching the Incheon survivor coalition right beside him.

This unusually warm winter has revealed itself as a curse, not a blessing—its form, the military camps encircling Sejong.

Jeon Si-hoon’s soldiers have staged armed demonstrations with drones, recon teams, even armored vehicles. No blood yet, but Sejong’s soldiers say his men are likely from the infamous Skull Brigade, judging from the skull insignias marking them as practitioners of brutal white terror.

Yet people still don’t know Jeon Si-hoon’s true nature.

They can’t.

He controls everything—radio, broadcasts, media, manpower.

And before his turn, he was a hero.

Official radio channels constantly announce how Jeon Si-hoon—or his lackeys—cleared monster hordes along the Han River, or rescued freezing, starving people and brought them safely into Seoul.

With perfect information control, we cannot know what’s really happening in New Seoul. But it’s unlikely to be anything beautiful.

Jeon Si-hoon has codified discrimination between Awakened and non-Awakened.

But people trapped in their memories still admire him, even trying to enter his city.

Erosion plays its part too.

The old VIP bunkers we once lived in are now completely swallowed, they say.

No people left inside.

Like the U.S. and Europe, maybe not as dramatic, but slowly and surely, erosion is devouring our land.

Yes.

We are truly standing at the edge of the end.

Though Deadman_working’s end is closer than mine.

Message from deadman_working: What do you think the average lifespan is for someone left in an erosion zone?

Message from deadman_working: China’s stats say three months. But new American data claims one month—by then you either go insane or vanish.

Message from deadman_working: For reference, our region was eroded a month ago.

Message from deadman_working: So my time’s up. Terminal.

I wondered if even being in contact with him was a miracle.

Shamelessly, I asked him about the problem currently plaguing me—because if he died, I’d never have the chance again.

Message from deadman_working: Hm. Can you do remote control? At least share your screen. Ah, and set the system language to English first.

Like magic, Deadman_working solved a problem even our top engineers couldn’t.

Though the connection wasn’t immediate.

Message from deadman_working: The flow is weakening.

Message from deadman_working: Call it impurities, or backflow. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝕨𝕖𝗯𝚗𝚘𝕧𝕖𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝕞

Message from deadman_working: The clean current we once relied on is getting murky, sediment building up.

Message from deadman_working: For now, keep it connected and watch how it develops.

According to him, within a week the new PaleNet (tentative) might be “chosen” by Necropolis transmissions.

He was vague, but he put the odds at over 90%.

Here, all we can do is trust the one true expert.

I was already surprised we connected at all. More so that he offered unprompted kindness—screen-shared advice.

Maybe that’s why, the whole time he helped me, I felt an itch in my throat, restless, like I wanted to say something.

Give and take.

I wanted to help him too.

Though I had no idea how.

Still, I asked.

SKELTON: (Skeleton cautious) Is there anything I can do for you?

Pure goodwill.

Nothing calculated.

Message from deadman_working: No need. Don’t worry, don’t comfort me.

Ordinarily, he was a cold man. He would’ve ended it there.

But facing the end, he had more to say.

Message from deadman_working: In the end, all will remain as echoes like me.

SKELTON: Hm...

Message from deadman_working: Truth is, I had a chance to go to the Citadel.

SKELTON: Citadel?

Message from deadman_working: The megastructure being built near Monterey.

SKELTON: Ah, that?

I’d seen mention of it on the North America board.

A city in the sky, larger than anything humanity ever built, supposedly under construction by the U.S. government as the world ended.

The idea was simple: if the monsters rule the ground, then move people to the sky. Whether they were really building it, no one knew.

But surely its scale had deteriorated from the grand concept art floating around. Even America couldn’t manage such a thing, not at the edge of collapse.

Regardless, his story continued.

Message from deadman_working: Living there, sure, you might survive.

Message from deadman_working: But even if you run from fate, you can’t escape becoming an echo.

Message from deadman_working: Lately, I’ve been pondering what kind of echo I’ll leave.

Message from deadman_working: Timing’s fitting. Were it any other time, we wouldn’t be talking like this.

The founder of Necropolis. The giant who first discovered Rift transmissions. Deadman_working was preparing for death.

Like those who left great legacies, he wouldn’t allow his life to end in mediocrity.

He wanted a special ending—no, one he could be satisfied with.

I understood.

The dying often rush to complete long-postponed tasks, like cramming for vacation homework.

But his chosen ending was unexpectedly modest.

Message from deadman_working: You know, I’ve always been like this.

Message from deadman_working: When I watch movies or play games or read novels, if they’re boring I’ll finish them anyway. But when I really love something, I tend not to watch the ending.

Message from deadman_working: When I try, it feels like the thrill fades. Maybe that reluctance blocked me.

Message from deadman_working: I had this strange belief: if I never saw the ending, the story would go on forever.

Message from deadman_working: But now, at life’s edge, I want to finally see the endings I skipped.

Message from deadman_working: Could you send them to me?

So the man who said he needed no help handed me a list of “unfinished endings.”

Some were games or novels, but most were films.

Films are tricky—long, and minor ones can be even harder to find than games.

Luckily, his tastes were mainstream.

Between my archive and Foxgames’s media repository, I had most of what he wanted.

For example, one was James Cameron’s Aliens (1986). I had three versions: theatrical, director’s cut, and director’s revision.

Another was David Hogan’s Most Wanted (1997). Obscure, but it happened to be in Foxgames’s folder.

But not all.

Of the 22 works he requested, 5 were missing.

He didn’t seem to mind, but when it came to one particular missing title, he reacted unlike himself—sending multiple messages that betrayed disappointment.

Message from deadman_working: Hm, so you don’t have that one.

Message from deadman_working: Of all things, that one’s missing.

Message from deadman_working: Not bad though.

Message from deadman_working: Maybe leaving that ending forever unresolved isn’t such a bad thing.

It seemed clear that, of all the works, this was the one he truly wanted.

And the missing one wasn’t a movie—it was a game.

Or rather, a novel in game form.

Unfortunately, I had no info on it, and even Foxgames’s archive lacked it.

So I asked what it was about.

Message from deadman_working: Well, it’s about the end of the world—and the love between a boy and girl blooming in that end.

Message from deadman_working: Looking back at my age now, clumsy and childish. But we’ve all felt it, haven’t we?

Message from deadman_working: That ache of purity from youth, never to return, but longed for again?

Its title: Eternity Beyond the Wall.

That was all he knew. And soon, weary, he stopped answering my questions.

So I sought advice from someone likely to know—Cheon Young-jae, currently moonlighting as L-Miris.

“Hm... Yeah, that title screams late-90s/early-2000s visual novel. Definitely.”

Of course, he acted like he knew everything.

I narrowed my eyes and listened.

“Probably released in the early 2000s.”

“Why?”

“Because the vibe is pure turn-of-the-millennium.”

“And what does that mean?”

“Korea had its own end-of-century mood, /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ but Japan had theirs too. You know—sekai-kei. The world’s ending, but the boy meets the girl, they have their sweet romance in the ruins. That vibe.”

“So it’s a romance?”

He nodded.

“Judging from the title, definitely bittersweet romance. Bad ending’s guaranteed. Best case, an open ending. That’s my bet.”

“So where can I get it?”

“How should I know? Even I don’t, and I’ve played most of the classics of that era.”

That was as far as his help went.

Typical Cheon Young-jae—lots of words, little substance.

Still, I gained a bit.

It was probably a Japanese visual novel from the early 2000s.

Armed with that, I logged onto the boards.

“...”

Tap, tap, tap.

I knew my mythical status had faded.

The Nemesis War, the event that made me a legend, was now history. People today fought their fate day by day.

Naturally, my name’s weight had eroded.

As humanity declines, so do the legends of its message boards.

Still, I thought I had some clout left.

SKELTON: (Skeleton query) Anyone know a game called Eternity Beyond the Wall?

I posted on boards in every language.

The world might be ending in real time, but the boards still worked.

And it was me asking.

Skelton himself.

Sure enough, a reply came quickly.

Message from KONG_13: Skelton? Is that really you?

An unfamiliar nickname.

Written in Korean, so likely another Korean. But I’d never seen them before.

I hesitated over how to answer, weighed the stance of a Name, when another message popped up.

Message from KONG_13: Why ask that out of nowhere, Park Gyu?

“?”

He knew my real name.

Impossible.

With a sinking feeling, I replied.

SKELTON: Who are you?

Message from KONG_13: It’s Gong Gyeong-min.

The dying man’s final echo had reconnected me to an unexpected tie.