Hiding a House in the Apocalypse-Chapter 47: The Cold

Before the war or after it, the most critical thing to take care of is your health.

When the body breaks down, so does the person.

Despite my generally robust constitution, I was always cautious about managing my health during my time in the bunker.

It wasn’t anything extraordinary. I maintained the right temperature to prevent my body from getting too cold, ate proper meals, avoided alcohol and cigarettes, and most importantly, tried not to let stress consume me.

Stress doesn’t just mess with your mind—it eats away at your body as well.

I regularly took supplements and had enough stock to last another five years, even at daily consumption.

Of course, I didn’t neglect exercise either. While I avoided workouts that would leave me gasping for air, I never skipped exercises to maintain my lung capacity, strength, and flexibility.

But no matter how well someone takes care of their health, no one can be healthy forever.

A person who was perfectly fine working out at the gym just moments ago could suddenly die from a heart attack in an elevator. Or they could fall victim to food poisoning and hover between life and death after eating some gifted seafood.

Even I, Park Gyu, am no exception.

“Cough! Cough!”

It seems I pushed myself too hard at Jepho City.

I caught a cold.

No, not just any cold—a terrible flu.

The thermometer wedged under my arm read 39.5°C (103.1°F).

Cold sweat dripped down my entire body, alternating waves of chills and fever wracked me.

Despite the muggy late-autumn heat in the bunker, I had to remain motionless, buried under a thick blanket.

Growl—

My stomach growled, empty because I hadn’t eaten properly. But I didn’t even have the energy to get up, let alone prepare food.

There was instant porridge in the bunker, but it was stored on the third basement floor. To get it, I’d need to climb down a ladder—a task impossible with my current energy level.

I spent the whole day lying in bed, battling fever and chills.

I took medicine, but it didn’t help.

My head throbbed even more, and I started coughing incessantly.

The thermometer now read 39.6°C (103.3°F).

“Cough! Cough...”

Humans are tougher creatures than most think, but at the same time, they can die absurdly easily.

By the second day of this cold, I was trapped in an endless cycle of torment, unable to think straight. Vague images flitted in and out of my mind, shapeless and fleeting.

When the thought of eating crossed my mind, I crawled out from under the blanket. But dizziness kept me from going down to the basement. I settled for soaking some crackers in water on the first floor and consuming that.

That evening, the communication device chimed, but I couldn’t answer it.

I was aware of the sound, but the combined effects of medication, fatigue, and pain blurred my consciousness to the point where I couldn’t operate the device.

In the early hours of the next day—around 2:10 a.m.—I woke up.

The hunger and thirst were unbearable.

Feeling that I wouldn’t survive without eating something, I grabbed a lantern and dragged myself toward the ladder leading to the third basement floor.

“Ugh...”

The hatch wouldn’t budge.

More accurately, I didn’t have the strength to open it. I couldn’t muster enough force to lift the hatch that led to the second basement floor.

Left with no other choice, I drank some water and returned to bed, stuffing my mouth full of glucose candies until I felt full.

The agony continued, and I couldn’t sleep.

Despite the pain, my mind was unnervingly clear. This clarity was its own form of torment, combining with my ailing body to create new depths of suffering.

I couldn’t do anything productive in this state, and my sharp awareness made it impossible to rest or sleep. Trapped in limbo, I was forced to count the seconds as I waited for dawn.

By the third day, the thermometer showed 38.6°C (101.5°F).

The fever had subsided slightly, but it was still high.

The pounding headache remained, as did the unwelcome mental clarity.

Growl—

Now, I had to eat something.

I forced my body to move and managed to open the hatch.

Click—creak—

Finally, success.

But as always, misfortune struck.

“...!”

The motion detection sensor blinked red.

It was located on the eastern perimeter of the main bunker.

No doubt about it—a trespasser.

I barely suppressed a bitter laugh.

Fate never waits for anyone.

Just because I’m sick or not at my best, it doesn’t mean fate will take pity on me.

My fallen comrades are proof of that.

There was a junior of mine, Park Sun-mi—a woman who talked a lot.

That day, she said she wasn’t feeling well. Although she was too embarrassed to admit it, it was likely menstrual cramps.

I told her to rest.

But she was ambitious. Instead of resting, she requested an easier assignment.

She was engaged at the time. Her plan was to earn more points on the battlefield, secure a promotion, and start her married life on better footing.

I denied her request, but she bypassed me through a higher-ranking officer and joined the operation.

She died.

A woman who could run 100 meters in 12 seconds—a speed demon—was sluggish that day. And that cost her life.

Now, here I am in an even worse state.

Burning with fever, shivering with chills, barely able to hold myself together. I haven’t eaten properly, and my mind is muddled from strong cold medicine.

Yet, I have to fight.

Click—

Unable to lift a single axe, I didn’t even bother taking one out.

I relied solely on my two rifles and three pistols.

I didn’t have the time to set up booby traps, and the entrance to my main bunker, which had been dug up during the rainy season, was still exposed.

The assassins sent by Kim Daram would likely realize that there were two entrances to the bunker. After finding one entrance empty, they would shift their focus to the main bunker.

The motion detection sensor continued to blink as the intruders moved from east to south.

I closed my eyes for a moment.

No images came to mind.

No faces appeared.

Strangely enough, I felt no regrets.

So, this is how I die.

That was the extent of my emotions.

Perhaps it was the result of being worn down by fever, chills, and unrelenting pain. But even upon reflection, there wasn’t much I’d desperately wanted in life.

I wasn’t a power-hungry fiend like Lee Sang-hoon, nor someone like Kim Daram who chased practicality in everything. I didn’t pursue dreams like Gong Gyeong-min or act on impulses like Woo Min-hee.

I simply wanted to erase the existence of monsters from this world.

That was all.

No, there was one more thing.

One item left on my wish list. Something I always dreamed of doing, yet never wanted to actually face.

I put down my gun, scrambled to my laptop, powered it on, and accessed the internet.

Welcome to Viva! Apocalypse!

“....”

Click-clack.

As I browsed the forums, memories of friends who had passed came flooding back.

Some disappeared quietly, without a sound. Others went out with a bang.

Among them were those who left a strong impression on me—the ones who shared their final words online before death claimed them.

Like Dongtanmom, now resurrected as Baek Seung-hyun.

Anyway, if I was going to go, I wanted to do it like them.

SKELTON: (Skelton Crisis)

Shit. It’s over!

There are people outside trying to kill me.

I’m going first. Goodbye!

It was my internet farewell.

I couldn’t upload a photo due to the urgency, so I hurriedly typed the message and closed the laptop.

“...Whew.”

Wish list complete.

A faint smile crept onto my lips.

Even in this dire situation, being able to smile felt like a blessing.

Step, step.

Footsteps.

Human footsteps.

The maddening thing about the human body is that the alert, restless mind I had all morning was now succumbing to drowsiness, pressing down on my eyelids.

I wanted to scream in anger, but revealing my location would be suicidal.

If I was going to die, I’d take at least one of them with me.

The front sensor flashed.

The intruders had reached the bunker entrance.

I hid behind the concrete platform where the central toilet was mounted, propping my gun against it and fixing the barrel in place.

“....”

No movement.

What were they planning?

Dynamite? A welding torch?

If they brought dynamite, I was done for.

And yet, I couldn’t stop wondering about my final post.

Had anyone replied to it?

Surely, it wouldn’t end up ignored with no comments. That would infuriate me to no end.

Knock, knock.

Fate was knocking at my door.

I stayed completely still, waiting for the door to open.

“Skelton?”

Ah.

“Skelton? Are you in there?”

I had completely forgotten.

“Skelton? Hey~ Skelton~!”

That I had neighbors.

“I tried contacting you so many times through the comms. Why didn’t you answer? Huh?”

The intruders turned out to be none other than Defender and his sister.

Whether it was relief at their survival, accumulated exhaustion and pain, or the emotional aftermath of my internet farewell—I didn’t know.

All I know is that as soon as I opened the door for them, I collapsed into unconsciousness.

*

Before monsters annihilated my entire family, we lived in a 79-square-meter apartment—about 24 pyeong.

It wasn’t very large, even though it had three bedrooms and two bathrooms. Compared to larger apartments, the rooms and living room were undeniably compact.

From the living room, you could easily see my mother cooking dinner right next to us.

Her cooking wasn’t particularly better than any of my friends’ mothers, but sometimes, when I’m alone, I remember the warm hues of the sunset filtering through the window, the quiet atmosphere, and the bubbling sound of a pot on the stove.

That mother of mine also died.

Instantly.

Her neck was twisted to the side, and one of her eyes bulged halfway out.

Someone who had never once raised her voice had to die like that.

The fury of it all woke me from unconsciousness.

When I regained my senses, the scene before me was strangely reminiscent of the memory that had stirred me awake.

The quiet atmosphere, the colors of the sunset, the bubbling sound of something cooking, and a woman standing with her back to me.

“Skelton?”

The woman tasted something with a rice paddle before turning her head toward me.

It was Da-jeong.

“You’re awake?”

Next to me, Defender was sitting in front of the monitor, fiddling with something.

Upon closer inspection, it was a game. He had hooked up something salvaged from IAmJesus’s house to the monitor and was playing.

“Why didn’t you say anything when you were sick?”

He glanced at me, grinning nonchalantly, before turning his attention back to the screen.

Boing~

The pixelated character on the monitor jumped, and I shifted my gaze.

I was lying comfortably in bed. An ice pack rested on my forehead.

“...”

I froze for a moment with a blank expression.

I honestly didn’t know what to say or think.

I wanted to express my gratitude, but somehow, the thought of saying those words felt... difficult.

Maybe I’m just strange like that.

No, not “maybe.” I’m definitely strange.

“...”

How could I not be, given the life I’ve lived?

In any case, it seemed like the food was ready.

Da-jeong turned toward me, lightly tapping the pot with the rice paddle.

“Skelton, new. crisis. ahead!”

Apparently, that’s how they say, “Dinner’s ready” in Defender’s household.

A fragrant smell wafted over.

Defender’s sister, who had somehow forgotten about me until now, slipped on oven mitts and brought out a freshly cooked pot of porridge.

The white steam rising from the bowl, along with the scent of the softened, well-cooked grains, not only awakened my appetite but also brought back long-lost memories.

“Here, eat.”

“...Thank you.”

“What’s with the formality?”

Defender’s sister smiled with her eyes as she spread the porridge into a bowl and placed it in front of me.

“Do you want me to feed you?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Why not?”

“I said I’m fine.”

Scooping up a spoonful of the hot porridge, I blew on it gently before bringing it to my mouth.

Mild, nutty, soft, and hot—the porridge had no real flavor, yet it tasted unbelievably good for some reason.

The siblings both watched me.

“If anything comes up, contact us. Are we still intimidating to you?”

“No, it’s not that.”

Avoiding their gaze, I focused on devouring my meal, spoonful after spoonful.

In no time, I had emptied the bowl.

“There’s more in the pot. Heat it up slowly if you want seconds.”

“We’re taking the game console, okay?”

Just as suddenly as they had appeared and thrown my life into chaos, Defender and his sister vanished without a trace.

The care they showed as they gently closed the door behind them left me staring at it long after they were gone.

“...Whew.”

I really should learn how to rely on others a bit more.

A small lesson left behind by illness.

But for now, I was curious about the response to my final internet post.

To be honest, I thought at least a few people would be worried.

Dragging my body, rejuvenated by Da-jeong’s porridge, I made my way to the laptop to check my post.

“...Ha.”

Not a single comment.

“Baek Seung-hyun, you son of a bitch!!!”

*

SKELTON: Seriously, isn’t it a bit too much to ignore someone who nearly died?

I’m a person too.

Honestly, I’m deeply disappointed in the mood of our forum.

An oldbie and internet friend was on the verge of death, and you all ignored me? How does that make sense?

dongtanmam: Yum yum... alive, huh... yum yum...

Finally, a comment appears, but it’s the last thing I wanted to see.

I tried to ignore it, and only then did the other members of the forum start lazily chiming in with comments.

Anonymous848: Knew it was a lie.

mmmmmmmmm: Bored, huh? Life feeling dull? Want to come over to my place? Every moment is dynamic here.

unicorn18: Wow... first, you cry wolf because no one comments on your death post, and now you’re whining because no one commented again. Have you abandoned the idea of human decency?

Foll𝑜w current novℯls on ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm.

gijayangban: ?

“...”

What did this poor Skelton do so wrong?

Should I share the crazy stories about IAmJesus to remind them of their place?

No, that might be a bit too risky.

Anyway, the fact that I’m even debating this shows I’m feeling better.

To properly express my gratitude to the Defender siblings, I picked up the communicator.

Coincidentally, it started ringing.

“Skelton!”

It was Defender’s sister.

But her voice—it was strangely urgent.

“What’s wrong?” I immediately responded.

“It’s... it’s my brother!”

“....”

“He’s been shot!”