Hiding a House in the Apocalypse-Chapter 143: Broadcast

After a long conversation with Foxgame, we agreed not to make what we had seen public.

Considering how long the discussion went on, the agreement came surprisingly easily.

Even Foxgame’s slimy ambition and attention-seeking personality were overwhelmed by the unbearable weight of what we had witnessed. It was that heavy.

Foxgame only asked me one question.

Foxgame: Dies_Irae says you’re a competent hunter. So tell me—what’s your take, as a hunter? ƒгeeweɓn૦vel.com

Foxgame: What happens to us?

The answer was clear.

Skelton: Humanity will go extinct.

Skelton: Well, maybe a handful will survive.

Skelton: I don’t know. I don’t know if we’ll be part of that handful.

Foxgame: The 1,000 people who’ll be left on Jeju Island? :(

Skelton: Who knows.

Nothing is certain.

Some say there are regions, called Shangri-La, where Erosion between rifts doesn’t overlap, and where limited human survival might be possible—but considering that Erosion has never once behaved the way we expected, Shangri-La might just be an illusion.

Same goes for islands.

They say Erosion hasn’t yet crossed the oceans, but we’ve seen it flow over rivers without a hitch, staining everything past the riverbanks.

Maybe it’s about salinity, depth, water pressure? I’m no expert, so I have no counterarguments. But like I said—Erosion is unpredictable.

Being on an island doesn’t guarantee survival.

At best, it might just mean surviving a little longer than everyone else.

If I had to suggest a more realistic option—it’d be going to the moon.

Yeah, I know it sounds like sci-fi nonsense, but isn’t that still better than staying on Earth, where everything is doomed to be consumed?

The moon has about one-sixth of Earth’s gravity. That’s something.

Message from unicorn18:

Something big is going to happen soon.

Message from unicorn18:

Everyone here is in shock right now.

Message from unicorn18:

There’ll be an official government broadcast soon.

Message from unicorn18:

Anyway, it’s chaos here too. Let’s talk later.

Just from those messages—sent 3, 7, sometimes 30 minutes apart—it was easy to tell she was in a state of panic.

Naturally so.

According to the classified documents Foxgame and I discovered, the current population of Jeju—around 100,000—will be reduced to just 1,000. The rest will be expelled from the island.

They say it’s to prevent another rift from opening in response to population density... but how easy is it to relocate a hundred thousand people in today’s world?

Even if they do manage to move them—where would they go?

I’m more curious about how they plan to feed all those people. Or how they’re going to convince folks who’ve settled in Jeju to return to the mainland. That’s even harder to imagine.

“Everyone, gather up. We need to talk.”

I’d been holed up in the bunker for days, decrypting those documents.

The truth needed to be shared—at least with those who suffered in my place.

When everyone had gathered, I explained the confidential intel Foxgame and I had uncovered.

It started light—jokes here and there—but as the story unfolded, the mood grew unmistakably heavy.

“So the rifts... they can be closed.”

“Regular Awakened? You mean those above Level 5? So, you’re saying all the ones we scraped together for two years, with all the lies and schemes, were just thrown away?”

“...”

“What’s going to happen to us now?”

Everyone had a vague sense that the future would hold more pain than relief—but having that bleak future laid out in black and white? It stunned them.

Even I—who had long believed the age of humanity was ending—was shaken. So how could they not be?

“So what do we do now?”

In the middle of all that despair, Rebecca spoke up—her will to survive shining through. That was just like her.

“What do we need to do to keep living?”

I didn’t have an answer. I couldn’t.

But it wouldn’t be right to kill what little hope they had left either.

So, I shared what little I knew.

“There’s this region they call Shangri-La.”

“Shangri-La.”

“Yeah.”

I explained.

An intersection of areas untouched by the Erosion spreading from each rift.

There were people reportedly surviving in those tiny slivers of untouched space.

Stories from India and China—both fully consumed nations—suggest the phenomenon isn’t complete fiction.

Maybe there’s a Shangri-La somewhere on the Korean Peninsula too.

But truth be told, that “Shangri-La” is no paradise.

A safe zone that can support only a tiny population? People will fight over it. Obviously.

Like that chair game we used to play during recess.

Except this time it’s with guns. So not quite the same as grade school.

“Shangri-La...”

Even so, just knowing a place like that might exist could be a comfort to someone.

“Where is it?”

“No idea. Korea’s still in the middle of active Erosion. We’ll have to wait and see.”

I had no plans to seek it out.

Naturally, everyone had their own thoughts.

“I heard the folks from Jeju are coming back.”

Click—

Ha Tae-hoon checked his pistol, a subtle gesture of disapproval.

“Pretty shameless of them.”

He turned to us.

“If they come crawling back, I’m not going to let it slide.”

Even someone as moderate as Ha Tae-hoon—one of the more level-headed in our group—wasn’t without hate.

Like anyone who didn’t make it to Jeju, he despised the place.

Just in his case, the hatred ran deeper than most.

“...Military, whatever—I don’t care. But I can’t stand the thought of the ones who laughed at us just waltzing back like nothing happened.”

Even though his official rank was lower than mine, Ha Tae-hoon had the highest school cohort among us.

And when he finally spoke his mind, even Cheon Young-jae—who usually cracked jokes and smiled through everything—went silent.

“I just... wanna spend more time with my mom.”

Bang Jae-hyuk broke the heavy air.

He’d been wincing all day, complaining about pain in his legs.

“This place is fine, but... that Shangri-La or whatever—if it’s real, I might check it out.”

Bang Jae-hyuk was a hardcore survivalist.

His motto seemed to be: “Live as long as possible, no matter what happens.”

What set him apart from others like him was that his idea of survival always included his mother.

It hit me again—he’s a real mama’s boy.

Rare these days.

“I’ll stick with you, Park.”

Thanks to Bang Jae-hyuk, the mood shifted, and Cheon Young-jae decided to chime in—throwing me a sheepish smile.

“I owe you a lot, Park. So, as long as you need me...”

“Don’t say that because of me. Do whatever you want.”

Cheon Young-jae was a skilled fighter, sure—but I had no intention of tying him to me out of guilt or obligation.

That’s not how I operate.

The world’s changed, and everyone’s got to look out for themselves now.

That’s not my call to make. And it’s not my burden to carry.

“Yeah?”

Maybe I came off harsher than I meant, because Cheon Young-jae suddenly pouted and changed his answer.

“Then I guess I’ll head to my old man’s bunker.”

“The one up in the mountains?”

“It’s got good facilities, right?”

Well, maybe not as good as mine, but it definitely cost more to build.

Usually, more money means a better bunker—but not always.

A bunker made with passion, care, and knowledge can be ten times better than one built with cash alone.

Mine’s a perfect example of that.

Then it was Rebecca and her daughter’s turn.

“We’ll stay here.”

Rebecca looked around at the still-awkward group, blinking slowly. Her voice was clumsy, almost blunt, but firm.

“We’re waiting for my husband.”

At the mention of her “husband,” Bang Jae-hyuk and Cheon Young-jae let out bitter smiles, but Rebecca didn’t care in the slightest.

“He’s still out there. I know it. He’s alive. He’ll fly in on a plane. Melon Mask’s drone planes are still flying all over the world, aren’t they?”

Maybe it was an impossible dream for some, but I supported it.

People need hope to survive.

Anyway, it was my turn now.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

Even after the disaster that struck Jeju, my stance hadn’t changed.

I was about to explain my unchanging perspective to the others when—

BEEEEP—

The K-Walkie Talkie let out a sharp noise.

Not just mine—everyone’s radios simultaneously picked up a signal.

It wasn’t a normal transmission.

“Is this... a radio broadcast?”

It was a signal from a broadcasting station equipped with high-grade transmission gear.

Cheon Young-jae, who knew his way around frequencies, quickly figured it out.

“Huh? This is... the government’s frequency?!”

Kzzzzt—

Amidst the sudden silence, every walkie-talkie blared with the same voice.

“Dear citizens. This is a message from the Jeju Interim Government.”

The transmission was from Jeju.

The moment that name echoed through the speaker, we exchanged glances filled with mixed emotions.

Looks like the government was finally ready to make a statement.

We sat in silence, listening to the broadcast.

“Thanks to the heroic actions of our savior, Kang Han-min, we have successfully closed the Jeju rift. That’s right! Humanity has, with its own hands, sealed the greatest threat we’ve ever known—the dimensional tear known as the rift!”

I tried to place the speaker.

A young voice.

Someone I didn’t recognize.

It wasn’t Gong Gyeong-min, Na Hye-in, or Kang Han-min.

The broadcast continued.

“However, during the closure of the rift, harmful gases emerged—scientists are still investigating the cause. These toxic gases are now gradually spreading across Jeju. Simply inhaling them severely damages human body function, breaks down cognition as if afflicted by dementia, and rapidly shortens lifespan.”

At that, Cheon Young-jae finally spoke up.

“Gas?”

He looked at me.

I shook my head.

It was a lie.

“While the closure of the rift has secured the path to survival for humanity, the journey is far from over. According to experts, the toxic substances emitted during ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) the Jeju rift closure will linger in the area for at least the next ten years, posing a significant threat to humans.”

“As such, the Jeju government is currently considering relocating citizens from Jeju to a safe zone elsewhere.”

“At present, new infrastructure is being built in Seoul to accommodate millions. While it may not live up to its former glory, our savior Kang Han-min and the other valiant defenders of Jeju will soon arrive in Seoul to begin the operation to close the Paju rift...”

That’s when I stood up.

There was no point listening any further.

It wasn’t all lies—but they were blending truth with falsehood.

They were going to cast out the people who’d fled to Jeju for survival.

Only a tiny handful—the ones serving the so-called committee that ousted Yang Sang-gil—would remain.

They even mentioned sending Kang Han-min here again... but I doubt they actually have the power to do that.

“I’ll take watch tonight.”

I grabbed my weapon and stepped out of the winter house.

The white expanse greeted me, covered in snow and swept by the biting wind.

Current temperature: 2°C.

I walked my familiar patrol route up toward the ridge.

At the lookout point, camouflaged in white, I scanned the surroundings.

Smoke was rising in the far distance.

“...”

I stayed silent, watching my surroundings carefully.

In winter, it’s not just people who wander—Mutations do too.

The others had been inside the winter house for a long while now, likely still in shock.

Maybe they were still listening to the rest of the government broadcast, or discussing what to do next.

It’s been four years since the war began.

But now, for the first time, something has shifted.

Something big enough to shake the future itself.

By now, our forums—and the Red Archive board—were probably flooding with posts, hundreds by the minute.

It was an interesting situation, sure, but I didn’t feel like checking.

We already knew the full story.

My shift lasted until dusk.

As twilight settled over the snowy landscape, I heard footsteps.

It was Sue.

She was holding a thermos.

“Skelton.”

She held it out to me.

“Drink this.”

“Thanks.”

I opened the lid.

Cocoa.

I took a sip.

Bitter.

They must’ve used just a little sugar—it’s rare these days.

“How is it?”

“It’s drinkable.”

Sue stared at me quietly as I drank the bitter cocoa.

When I looked back at her, she spoke as if she’d been waiting for that moment.

“So, Skelton... what are you going to do now?”

“Me?”

“Yeah. You haven’t said anything about your plans yet.”

Now that she mentioned it—I hadn’t.

I was just about to when the government broadcast cut in earlier.

With a faint smile, I looked out over the dark snowfield.

“I’m going to stay here.”

“Here?”

“Yeah. This is where I’ll live.”

“Don’t you have a hometown?”

“I do. But that’s not something I get to choose, right?”

Tap, tap.

I knocked on the protruding ledge of rock that made up part of the lookout.

“This place—I chose it.”

I nodded to myself.

“Sure, maybe it’ll be my grave.”

Even if this place eventually gets eroded and everyone else leaves, I’ll stay here and guard it.

What happens after that doesn’t matter.

“But you know, Sue.”

“Yeah?”

“Until I die—I’m going to try and live as joyfully as I can.”

Because what matters is the moment we’re in.

*

Kzzzt—

The message from my junior, Woo Min-hee, came a day after the Jeju government broadcast.

“You know, now that I think about it, senior...”

Her voice was unusually cheerful.

“Don’t you think it’s about time you took your rightful place?”

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