Hiding a House in the Apocalypse-Chapter 151.2: Sincerity (2)

Wherever people gather, there are always opinions.

Who’s doing what.

What someone’s personality is like.

Who got body-shamed or harassed.

Among those, the rumors about Gong Gyeong-min being sexually harassed were particularly memorable, though I’ve never really cared about gossip. Personal matters don’t interest me.

Still, it’s rare for someone to be the subject of so much talk as Woo Min-hee.

Legendary string of boyfriends.

Explosive temper.

The kind of turbulent life that always generates drama.

She caused quite a few incidents.

But the first time I met Woo Min-hee, she struck me as... surprisingly quiet.

I think it was during freshman orientation.

Even back then, I knew Instructor Jang Ki-young was infamous for brutally “culling” students to create “fail cases” for fun, but I was his personal protégé. While the others were being broken down, I was training in his private facility to become a monster-slaying machine—particularly with the axe.

Even back then, I wondered: Why an axe?

Was Jang Ki-young’s ancestor a lumberjack or something?

While I was quietly mulling that over and honing my technique, someone was watching.

I wasn’t like Lee Sang-hoon, who’d throw a fit over the tiniest technique being exposed, but I still didn’t appreciate being disturbed.

I turned to shoo them away.

It was a group of girls—first-years by the look of them.

Back then, I had a hard, sharp expression and the kind of eyes that made people either run or start a fight when they looked at me.

These girls ran.

Except for one.

She stood her ground, staring at me—eyes wide with fear, but tinged with curiosity.

A pretty girl.

Probably had a loving family, I thought—some dumb assumption.

I barked:

“...What?”

That broke the spell. She ran off after her friends.

Later I found out: that girl, the one who lingered, was Woo Min-hee.

Just a passing moment, nothing more. I didn’t dwell on it. I never imagined that same girl would one day be infamous across the entire school.

Yeah, Woo Min-hee’s life was loud.

“That fox-faced bitch.”

Even Jang Ki-young, who rarely passed judgment on anyone outside his direct disciples, had something to say.

I don’t know if she was really a fox, but it’s true that most of the men she dated ended up miserable.

One med student she was seeing took a leave of absence. Another guy—one of my classmates—tried to quit being a Hunter altogether and transfer to a regular high school, but since the academy’s training wasn’t officially recognized, he had to take a GED instead.

Personally, I didn’t consider Woo Min-hee a particularly competent teammate, so I didn’t pay much attention to her drama.

But two people I was close with—Gong Gyeong-min and the late Lee Sang-hoon—used to say the same thing:

“Don’t ever get close to Woo Min-hee.”

Not that there was ever a chance.

Hard to believe now, but I used to spend almost all my free time on training, analysis, and drafting new strategies.

The only way I would’ve worked with her was if we got assigned to the same team. But back then, we were in the China front’s One-Team System—Jang Ki-young’s idea.

One Team meant your squad was treated as an indivisible combat unit.

If even one member got injured, the whole team paused operations until they recovered. If someone died, the entire squad was restructured.

That kind of system prioritized team cohesion over individual ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ combat prowess.

So even if Woo Min-hee had been exceptional (and she wasn’t), someone like Kim Daram would never have allowed her into our elite team.

Eventually, though, the One-Team system collapsed. Manpower shortages forced us to rotate people.

That’s when I ended up temporarily teamed with Woo Min-hee.

Surprisingly, she pulled her weight.

Even when Kim Daram gave her hell, she just smiled, slithered around the barbs like a snake. That made me reconsider her.

After a short mission, she joined Lee Sang-hoon’s squad.

Not long after, we all had a casual gathering—arranged by Gong Gyeong-min.

Northern China was a wreck, but the southern coast—like Shanghai—still had remnants of its former wealth.

A Chinese official even rented out an entire restaurant just for us.

It was fancy. The kind of place that makes your jaw drop.

Clearly, they had another motive, but for now, it was the perfect place for a rare youthful night out.

Food and drinks flowed freely. We shared dumb jokes, future plans, and lighthearted fears.

As the night wore on, Lee Sang-hoon took to the grand piano and played—like the spoiled rich kid he was.

His performance ended when Gong Gyeong-min, tone-deaf, jumped in with an impromptu karaoke solo.

More party tricks followed.

I was debating whether to show off my beatboxing skills—something I’d secretly been practicing—but lacked the nerve.

Then Kang Han-min, completely drunk, tried to do a Cossack dance.

He kept falling.

Only when the pain got real did he stop. Around that time, a Chinese official pulled me aside.

“Professor brother.” freeweɓnovel~cѳm

Obvious what this was.

He wanted me to join China.

“Anything you want,” he said. “Name it.”

I didn’t turn him down flat.

You don’t make enemies among the Chinese. That’s something I’d learned.

I replied diplomatically and turned to rejoin the party.

Someone was waiting for me.

“Senpai.”

It was Woo Min-hee.

As always, she drew attention. She wore an elegant dress that hugged her body—gaudy, maybe, but undeniably eye-catching.

I think she had glittering accessories on. I’m not really sure.

“Oh. Min-hee.”

I don’t live by others’ evaluations.

I listen, but my decisions are always made through my own eyes.

Despite the bad rumors, Woo Min-hee was a capable teammate.

Not frontline material like Kim Daram, but good support.

It’s not that important, but I rated her above Kang Han-min.

Because she wasn’t afraid.

Kang Han-min had willpower, sure—but he hesitated when his life was truly on the line.

Strange, considering we both shared the belief: when you die, it’s over. No afterlife.

Anyway, Woo Min-hee said she wanted to talk.

“Senpai. Are you free after this?”

“Free?”

“Yeah. Feels like this party’s missing something. Thought maybe another drink.”

She smiled coyly.

“You like Nanjawanse, right?”

“Nanjawanse?”

“I know a place. Been around 200 years, they say.”

I declined immediately.

“I don’t really drink. I’m full. And I’ve got analysis to do.”

“Monsters...? You still haven’t finished?”

Her smile vanished.

Maybe I ruined her mood, but I didn’t care.

“I’m talking about that monster from Xinjiang—the one that controls other monsters.”

“Ah, that.”

In some ways, Woo Min-hee and I are alike.

Quick to draw conclusions. Quick to accept them.

About ten years later, we finally did have a private drink.

This time in her place—a mid-level floor of an old, half-ruined hotel.

It was a cozy enough bar. Others were around, but they kept their distance.

“Do you remember Han-sik? He wasn’t a bad guy. Died so damn fast though. A ricochet from the first shot? What a joke. Overconfidence’ll kill you.”

Surprisingly, the mood wasn’t bad.

In fact, it was hard to have a bad time—when someone shares the same past, when old memories become drinks.

“You mean Song Han-sik? Yeah, shame. Guy had too much faith in his rifle. Should’ve used tracers after sunset to gauge trajectory.”

The topics jumped around.

“At Sang-hoon’s wake, there was a young woman. Not his wife—I know her face. I gave a fat 50K won condolence envelope, after all.”

“Probably a mistress. That guy needed a woman in every bed. Classic love-starved bastard. Still... he must’ve loved his family. Guy hanged himself, pride and all.”

From school to Viva! Apocalypse!—our whole lives were laid out in conversation.

“John Nae-non did good, actually. But did you know? He wasn’t even a C-rank back in his Hunter days? Didn’t even get his license. Passed the written but failed the practical. Back then, a written pass still got you a certificate. But for field ops...”

“Enough. He was a real Hunter...”

But we’re adults now.

We both knew the truth.

We didn’t talk about the real stuff. The future. The serious shit.

Some things you just know are coming.

Now is one of those times.

Woo Min-hee swirled her highball and looked at me with soft eyes.

“...”

I started looking for an excuse to leave.

Then she said it.

“Senpai. I need to tell you something.”

Of course. Here it comes.

“Who’s Eom Chang-yi?”

A ridiculous attempt at deflection.

“That big monster you discovered. The general-type.”

Now that was a sharp topic.

I stayed quiet, exhaling through my nose.

Of course I remember.

The one that finally made me walk away from everything—after all the hell I’d endured.

Woo Min-hee shook her glass again.

“It’s still alive...”

“You serious?”

That’s hard to believe.

It’s been a decade. The Awakened are in charge now.

Kang Han-min and Na Hye-in are the stuff of legend.

Unless that thing’s been running...

“Was it evading them?”

That would make sense—some Mutations do that, avoid humans, making them harder to kill.

But I was wrong.

“No.”

She shook her head. The glass in her trembling hook-hand rattled with ice.

“It was the other way around.”

Fear glimmered in her eyes.

Hard to believe.

This woman who once stood unafraid before Jang Ki-young, who didn’t even flinch when she lost her limbs...

They said she was smiling after the accident.

I’d always thought she was missing something—emotionally crippled.

Now, she was afraid.

“Kang Han-min and Na Hye-in... avoided it.”

An ugly truth, revealed in the quietest way.

“Avoided...?”

“That’s why progress on the Jeju Rift stalled. That monster you named—it really is like a general. It leads waves of monsters. No one can defeat it.”

“Not even Kang Han-min?”

“...Yeah.”

She tried to still her trembling wrist, gripping her prosthetic hand.

When it stopped shaking, she met my eyes.

“And that thing... it has human intelligence.”

“...”

So it’s true.

The hypothesis I’d tried to dismiss...

A monster that thinks. That plans. That chooses.

A monster with intent.

In other words—a monster capable of orchestrating humanity’s extinction.

“You know why Kang Han-min hasn’t come here?”

She stood.

“Your greatest enemy is nearby.”

“Yeah?”

I stood too.

“Where are you going?”

She asked as I turned.

“You know why I left the battlefield, don’t you?”

“Yeah. I know.”

“I think I’ve completed most of your requests.”

“If you leave, this city could fall. Maybe even the whole country.”

“Not my problem.”

“Only you can stop it.”

I laughed.

A bitter, dry laugh. Turned back toward her.

For a moment, it felt like I’d stepped back in time.

She looked like that teenage girl again, staring up at me—afraid, but hopeful.

The illusion shattered as she spoke.

“Monster voices... aren’t like human voices. They’re not heard—they’re transferred. Thoughts, not sounds.”

Still carrying that teenage look in her eyes, she went on.

“In its voice—filled with fear—we saw it.”

I stepped back.

But the burning hatred in my chest stopped me.

In the silence that followed, her voice broke through, nasal and trembling, like a curse.

“In that chaotic nightmare, there was a hazy image—of a man wielding two axes.”

I sighed and closed my eyes.

“...Really?”

I opened them.

She nodded with a faint smile.

“Yes. It’s afraid of you.”

“...”

“Of all the Hunters it faced, you’re the only one who nearly killed it.”

She smiled again.

And for some reason, that smile looked beautiful.

But something far more dangerous than beauty stirred inside me.

I sighed.

Drinking with this dangerous woman was a mistake.

Even in this buzz, I felt it clearly.

That flame inside me—hot enough to burn through my chest, through my whole body.

Death has never felt closer.

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