Hiding a House in the Apocalypse-Chapter 149.3: Janggi (3)

Most of all, there had been no gunfire. That meant they hadn’t encountered any minions inside the tunnel. And a lack of fighting inside the Candy Box tunnel meant only one thing: they returned without finding a single monster.

“What the hell happened?”

With suspicion growing darker by the second, I turned to Kang Han-min.

He answered with a smile.

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

His sentence hadn’t even finished when a sharp scream rang out from another tunnel entrance. Children. It was the scream of children.

I glared at Kang Han-min.

“Explain. Now.”

“I sent those kids.”

My expression must’ve said it all — dumbfounded, incredulous — because he added a clarification.

“I didn’t force them. I just said I’d send anyone who could pinpoint the monster’s location to a school in Shanghai. You saw them, right? How they were begging to go to that school with the ocean view.”

“...Why?”

“Why, what?”

“Why drag civilians into an unnecessary battle?”

He tilted his head, looking genuinely confused.

“They need to fight, too.”

“?”

“Wasn’t it the monsters that ruined their parents, their lives? Monsters tore their entire world apart. Shouldn’t they get a chance to fight back?”

Not even a flicker of guilt. He spoke as if offering a gift — as if this twisted justice was something noble.

“...”

Was he always like this? Or had this goddamn warzone, enough to put even me to sleep, warped him into something new?

To be fair, I wasn’t exactly clean either.

I had sent countless civilians and soldiers into hell to reduce our own casualties. Pot calling the kettle black, really. But I still believe there’s a difference between the pot and the kettle.

At the very least, I never dangled hope like bait on a fishing line.

“Kang Han-min.”

Just as I was about to say something to him, an unholy wail shattered our exchange.

“Aaaaghhh! Mama! Aahhh!!”

The kind of scream you might hear from a child searching for their mother, but twisted into something far more grotesque.

Kang Han-min let out a bitter smile.

“Better they find some meaning in helping kill monsters than be hunted down as rebels.”

I had something I wanted to say. But my resolve died.

“...I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”

I turned my back to him. From behind me, Kang Han-min called out.

“If we can wipe them out from this world...”

That voice wasn’t his. Not the Kang Han-min I knew.

I turned around. He was staring at me.

“I’ll do anything.”

His voice was wet and sticky — soaked in hatred so deep it seemed to ooze from his pores. That was the first time I realized: there are people who hate more deeply than I do.

But there was no fire in his eyes.

If there had been, I would’ve noticed it sooner.

What I saw in his gaze wasn’t fire. It was a swamp — a bottomless one, pulling everything, even himself, down with it.

“Senior, I’ve got good news,” said Woo Min-hee over the phone, just before I was discharged from the hospital.

“The advance party is arriving before winter’s over.”

“Advance party?”

“There’s someone you’ve been wanting to see.”

“Who?”

“Senior Kang. Kang Han-min and the First Unit are headed here.”

“Kang Han-min? He’s coming?”

“Yep.”

After we ended the call, I sat in thought. But not for long.

I stood, grabbed my weapons.

I have to kill John the Baptist.

Before the savior Kang Han-min arrives.

Not every refugee is organized and battle-ready. There are always people who fall through the cracks, living day by day, never making it into any faction.

We just pretend not to see them.

People like Manseok — the kind who reek of the apocalypse — were once glimpses into a future we all tried to ignore. No one joins Viva! Apocalypse! expecting to go crawling into hellholes like that.

Sure, people say you can’t go through life only seeing what you want. But there are parts of the world you can choose to never see.

Religious types might understand that best.

“This is the place.”

The one guiding me was Defender — my friend, and the most helpful person since I arrived in New Seoul.

He wore a goblin mask — not to hide from cultists, but to send a message to those who might want to kill him.

He’d brought three more team members with him. In most cases, numbers meant power. Five armed men could prevent a lot of potential conflict.

We headed to an old subway concourse turned slum, a nest for the unwanted — criminals, addicts, those cast out or who ran from groups, and children who had no one but themselves.

Some generator-linked relay was humming ominously as people huddled under faint, sterile light.

Two gruff-looking men, likely gatekeepers, were sitting wrapped in blankets. They stood when they saw us — but seeing our weapons and numbers, quickly sat down again.

“Gangsters,” Defender muttered. They’re everywhere.

Wherever there are castoffs and dropouts, gangsters are born. I’d heard New Seoul had two big gangs. But politics weren’t my business.

This area was supposedly controlled by a gang from Gyeongnam, with a guy named "Beolkkun" as their boss.

Some women approached, throwing flirtatious glances. Streetwalkers.

A man in a gas mask barked coldly,

“Get lost.”

Defender glanced around and whispered,

“Wait.”

Then a man approached. Tall, broad-shouldered, scraggly beard, and a missing eye — left completely uncovered, probably to instill fear.

“Jung-ho. What’s going on?” he greeted Defender.

“We’re looking for a kid named Jin-ho.”

They stepped aside to talk. I noticed the one-eyed man sneaking glances at me. Eventually, Defender returned.

“This way.”

We headed down to the subway platform. It was lined with makeshift shelters — wooden panels, styrofoam, scrap. Pitiful, but it was the stench that hit harder than the sight.

In that putrid space, we found deeper misery — a dying woman, and kids too weak to even cry.

“That’s Jin-ho’s family, apparently.”

I’m not good at communication. Luckily, one of Defender’s guys — wearing a jungle hat — approached them with a friendly smile. I left it to him and moved away from the reek.

He came back a while later. His name was Ko Jeong-du — he used to work as staff for a popular YouTuber before the war.

“He probably found them through an online ad. Jin-ho signed up to support his family. You know how it is — if you Awaken, you can’t go to Jeju, but at least you’re not living like that.”

Even normal Hunters got better treatment than soldiers — more rations, better housing, family stipends.

Some even faked dependents to game the family benefits system.

If you’re a registered Awakened, the perks were even greater. It’s a desperate but logical move for a cornered boy.

“Things started okay. His test sheet came out white. He was thrilled. But that lasted barely two days.”

I got the info I needed.

“...If there hadn’t been internet...”

A man muttered it under his breath.

“Would that kid have lived?”

I didn’t bother answering. It wasn’t a question for me. Just another worn-out debate about cause and effect.

Deadman33811: Anyone want to Awaken?

Deadman812: Want to become Awakened?

Deadman7731: I heard there’s a pill that does it (comment if curious)

...

It wasn’t hard to track down traces of John the Baptist. Even while we were out in that hellhole, one of his suspected users was posting.

Seemed like a structured operation to lure the unaware. I’d seen this before — back before the war. Same script, new actor.

Phishing scams, investment frauds, "VIP stock groups" and “$10,000/day side jobs.” Just the themes had changed. And the damage was far worse.

Tap tap. I reached out.

Deadman9435: I want to become Awakened.

Didn’t take long for the reply.

Deadman812: Age, gender, family?

Deadman812: Answer, please.

Deadman9435: 32, male, two fox-like wives and three rabbit-like kids.

Deadman812: Two wives?!

Deadman9435: Is that a problem?

Deadman812: No, just... you’re kinda old.

Deadman9435: I’m still a kid at heart.

Deadman812: Biologically, if you’re over twenty, it gets harder.

Deadman9435: ?ㅅ?

Deadman812: ...It could be risky.

Deadman812: Still want to do it?

Deadman9435: Yep. Gotta ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) feed my foxy wives and bunny kids.

He gave me the address. As expected, it was in the abandoned outskirts of the new residential district.

A defunct café with its old franchise sign still hanging. That was where John the Baptist wanted to meet.

“What do you think?” I asked.

We’d scouted it ahead of time. A defensive terrain — elevated and intact buildings ideal for ambush.

“If things go south, I’ll cover you,” Da-jeong said. She had a drone in the sky. Defender’s team was in place, too.

I wasn’t too interested in his teammates — except Ko Jeong-du. He piqued my curiosity.

“Weren’t you working with that 3 million sub YouTuber?”

“Yeah. Total dick, but he always paid on time.”

“What kind of channel was it?”

“Patriotic outrage bait.”

“I see.”

“I know it’s pathetic. But what can I say? Best pay and easy work.”

“You ever design banners?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Just... personal interest.”

I pride myself on being pretty self-aware. Lately, though, I felt out of step — like I was falling behind in the Necropolis meta.

Letting a no-name like JeremyIrons throw me off? That was the proof.

But it wasn’t just me. Mgu, Dongtanmom — all the old forum legends — they’d lost their spark, too.

They couldn’t keep up with the new wave.

Time for a new strategy. Something to maintain the dignity of a name.

“Let’s talk later. I might have a favor to ask.”

And so, toggling between the real and digital worlds, I laid the groundwork to meet John the Baptist.

Under the cover of night, Defender’s crew moved into sniping and support positions. I’d meet him during the day, baiting the trap.

It wasn’t technically winter, but the cold air helped.

I wore a Level III NIJ bulletproof vest under my coat. Supposedly could stop a 5.56mm round. A guy I knew said it mostly depended on luck.

Better than nothing.

The café loomed ahead.

“One person. No others in sight,” Da-jeong relayed via comms.

I raised my hands to show I was unarmed and approached the building — once a national coffee chain, now a decaying ruin.

A gaunt man with a sunken face was watching me. As I drew near, I thought:

Is this John the Baptist?

Nothing. No aura. No madness. Just dull, vacant eyes like a junkie’s.

As expected—

“Skelton! Small squad emerging from adjacent buildings!”

And the man bolted.

I sprinted after him and took him down.

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

A few solid hits. Enough to subdue him. Defender’s teammate arrived and took him into custody.

“He caught on,” Defender said. Judging by his expression, he didn’t think this guy was the real target.

Soon we were back, facing the same man — now bloodied. Defender’s teammate held a bloody pair of pliers and gave us a nod.

“They only take kids. Adults, they wait and see. If they’re useful, they bring them in. Otherwise, they bail.”

He pulled his gas mask’s mouthpiece aside and spat.

“This bastard’s just a decoy.”

I never expected this to be easy. But still, I had to pause. Thinking.

Then Defender spoke.

“If there aren’t any kids... we could always make one, right?”

I looked at him, incredulous.

He removed the goblin mask and stared right at me.

“Doesn’t matter who we bring in, right?”

That casual face — I couldn’t help it.

I saw Kang Han-min’s face in his.

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