Hiding a House in the Apocalypse-Chapter 51.1: Verification (1)

Our board’s renowned user, Defender, had not posted a “verification” in quite some time.

While I knew the backstory—how he had moved to a quieter, more isolated place and was under the constant threat of a sniper who never posted on the board—his decreased activity didn’t seem strange to me. But the other users felt differently.

Anonymous458: Why hasn’t Defender posted a verification lately?

Anonymous1131: Yeah, I’ve heard about him, but I’ve never seen him post since I joined.

mmmmmmmmm: He’s a dud. Who even falls for that these days? All the weaklings are already dead.

Anonymous782: I’m new here, but Defender was pretty famous on Failnet.

Users criticized his lack of recent accomplishments, questioning whether he still deserved his status as a notable user.

Anonymous: What is a Defender without verification? Just another nobody on the board!

In my view, the very fact that such conversations were happening was undeniable evidence that our collective mindset had grown diseased.

In a world overflowing with death and tragedy, emotions had dulled, and the world itself looked different to us.

It may sound obvious, but hardly anyone among us was shocked by the sight of a corpse anymore.

At most, it might prompt a furrowed brow.

No one hesitated to pull the trigger when facing someone who sought to kill them.

And it wouldn’t surprise me if there were those among us who wouldn’t hesitate to aim their guns at a vulnerable person, especially if that person had something valuable—or was an attractive woman.

Even I have felt those impulses more than once.

Somewhere along the line, just like how the term “raider” had disappeared, we too had become no different from the raiders we once despised.

Well, even I had noticed that Defender’s activity had significantly decreased lately.

Sometimes, I found myself missing his—or his sister’s—sarcastic remarks.

Defender’s return to posting on the board came after I’d spent the day tending my small vegetable patch and had just returned home.

Defender: Verification.

The photo Defender posted showed a man in his early twenties.

His thumbs were bound with cable ties, and duct tape was wrapped tightly around his eyes. He was forcibly seated on an old, worn chair.

Unlike Defender’s previous verifications, this time the man in the photo was alive.

This was unprecedented.

Until now, Defender had only ever posted photos of people he had killed—never of someone still breathing.

It felt like something out of the ordinary was happening.

As if to answer that unspoken question, Defender posted another message:

Defender: Justice Min. Come out.

Don’t send me messages. Post on the board where everyone can see.

Begging for your life, bargaining—it’s all fine. Asking me to kill you would be even better.

You have one hour.

If you don’t respond within that hour, you’ll get to see your corpse verified alongside your brother.

“...”

People said Defender had changed.

Some even speculated that he had only been able to thrive in the early days because people were weaker back then. It sounded like a plausible argument.

But I didn’t agree.

The Defender I knew was, for lack of a better word, a fully formed individual from the start.

Unlike others, whose perspectives and morals shifted with the times, Defender had always held steadfastly to his own principles and lived by them.

As his username suggested, he was a Defender—a protector.

Of himself, his family, and his territory.

And anything that threatened those was eliminated.

He simply “verified” his defense.

Now, Defender had posted another verification.

It was clear the board would be thrown into turmoil.

But who would ultimately be swept away by that storm was something no one could predict.

*

Another key player in this situation, JUSTICE_MIN, was someone likely known only to Defender and me.

He had never posted on the board before.

A search for his account yielded nothing either.

Though he had been a registered member since before the war, he was nothing more than a void—a nonentity.

So, when Defender mentioned him, the board’s users were filled with intense curiosity and confusion.

RKKArA: Who is Justice Min?

Anonymous458: Exactly. Total nobody.

Foxgames: Who could it be?

Anonymous1131: I don’t know who they are, but this is interesting.

gijayangban: Someone with no activity history.

Unlike the other users, I had direct contact with Defender.

“Defender.”

I reached out to him first.

“Yes, Skelton.”

His sister answered.

“What’s going on?”

“Hold on. I’ll connect you to my brother.”

Her voice was unusually cold and businesslike.

I could guess why.

They currently had a hostage, and Defender was facing off in real time against someone trying to kill them.

She was probably operating multiple drones to support her brother’s position.

“Hey, Skelton,” Defender said as he joined the call.

“That time I got shot—it wasn’t just bad luck. I’d been tracking that bastard for a while. That day, I was following a lead and let my guard down, which is why I got shot.”

It seemed the conflict between Defender and Justice Min had been brewing intensely without my knowledge.

I had vaguely suspected something, but I hadn’t imagined that Defender was actively hunting Justice Min.

I’d thought Defender was focused on defense, protecting himself and his sister.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

But as I reflected, it made sense.

Defender had always been the type who liked to roam and explore, while his sister preferred to stay in one place.

Perhaps that’s why the two siblings were so close.

“I would’ve reached out if it got urgent. It wasn’t that bad yet. Anyway, gotta go.”

The call ended.

Even as one of Defender’s internet “best friends,” I was now no different from the other board users—a mere spectator.

Like everyone else, I found myself checking the time between Defender’s posts and the clock on my monitor or the one in my shelter.

I waited to see what this mysterious user Justice Min would do, and what Defender might post next.

Just as I was about to head downstairs to fetch some popcorn, my communicator buzzed again.

“Skelton.”

It wasn’t Defender this time—it was Rebecca and her daughter.

This communicator was another gift from Defender, but I’d adjusted its frequency so it wasn’t connected to Defender’s line.

This meant I had to juggle two different communicators—one for dealing with Defender, and one for the sniper duo.

It was an inefficient setup, but since Defender clearly didn’t want any involvement with them, I had no choice but to handle both myself.

“Defender—you’re friends with him, right? He’s your neighbor?” Rebecca asked.

“Yeah.”

“What’s up with that post?”

“You read the Korean board?”

“It’s nighttime in the States. The activity’s low. I was bored.”

“So, about the hostage?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know all the details, but there’s been someone threatening to kill Defender for a while.”

“Threats? What kind of threats?”

At this point, Sue chimed in, explaining the situation to Rebecca in detail.

“Something like that...,” Rebecca muttered.

“Skelton,” Sue called to me.

“Yeah? You want something juicy?”

“No.”

Her tone turned serious.

“A car overturned outside the house.”

“Yeah?”

“Probably related to that Defender guy. Don’t you think there was a fight right in front of our house?”

“How far?”

“About 4 km northeast.”

“So, not exactly in front of the house.”

“It’s close enough—practically our front yard.”

Sue might be young, but she had grown up relying on a single gun alongside her mother in a world full of enemies.

She was more mature and composed than her age suggested.

If she felt something was off, she was probably right.

“Wait a bit.”

I hopped on Baek Seung-hyun’s motorcycle and headed straight for Rebecca’s territory.

Every time I rode the bike, I couldn’t help but think: Would Baek Seung-hyun regret giving it to me?

This thing was more practical than most of the equipment I’d bought with my own money.

If I’d had more foresight, I would’ve invested in a durable two-wheeler like this, instead of wasting resources on heavy equipment that now sat idle in my storage.

I reached Rebecca’s place in no time, the bike’s engine humming smoothly.

Sue waved at me from atop a building.

“Skelton!”

“Here.”

Climbing the stairs decked with quintessentially American decorations, I joined Sue on the rooftop.

Through her surveillance equipment, I scanned the abandoned field she pointed out.

Sure enough, there was an overturned car.

“I saw people pulling someone out of it earlier,” Sue said.

“People?”

“Yeah.”

“One man and one woman?”

“No. Three men.”

“Hmm. Then it’s not Defender.”

Sue had mistaken another incident for something connected to Defender.

Defender might come as a pair, but they were never three—let alone three men.

Time was ticking.

There were 20 minutes left until the deadline Defender had set for Justice Min to respond.

If nothing happened, the hostage was as good as dead.

“Rebecca, are you watching?”

“Yeah.”

Standing beside her, I glanced at the monitor she was staring at.

Finding it cramped, she powered on a second monitor.

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The same screen from her laptop appeared there.

“What the hell is this?” I asked.

“Dual monitors,” Rebecca replied in her native accent.

“That’s a thing?”

“Are you stupid, Skelton?”

“...”

Rebecca’s rebuke aside, I focused on the secondary monitor.

As we bickered, gunshots echoed in the distance.

Sue came down from the rooftop with her rifle and surveillance equipment.

“The people pulled a woman out of the car and killed the man.”

“Yeah?”

“Then they took the woman.”

To Sue, this might’ve been just another observation. But for someone, somewhere, it was a tragic moment.

And Sue relayed it without a hint of emotion.

She’d grown used to it.

It made sense—she’d seen more tragedies than I had, perched high above while I remained underground.

“Skelton, anything happening with Defender?”

“No, not yet.”

Sue sat beside me, staring at the same monitor I was watching.

Rebecca, meanwhile, furiously typed on her laptop, using a dictionary to look up unfamiliar Korean terms as she tried to piece together what was happening on the board.

My thoughts drifted.

Defender had mentioned that Justice Min wasn’t working alone—they were part of a capable, mid-sized group.

One that Defender himself seemed wary of.

Why hadn’t he asked for my help this time?

Maybe he wanted to handle it on his own.

After all, I’d made a similar decision when fighting Kim Pil-sung’s group—I didn’t summon Defender back then because I didn’t want to endanger him.

Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling of regret.

As I stood to leave, Rebecca called out.

“Skelton!”

“What?”

“Look.”

A new post had appeared on the board.

Defender: Additional Verification.

Rebecca clicked on it without hesitation.

A single photo loaded.

“Are you okay, Sue?”

I didn’t cover Sue’s eyes.

It wasn’t my place to coddle her, and in this world, such gestures felt hollow.

“I’m fine,” she said, unfazed.

The photo showed three corpses.

Unlike his earlier posts, where Defender had covered the victims’ faces, this time, every detail was visible.

The twisted expressions of pain and terror were on full display.

In the background, the bound hostage still sat in the chair.

Defender: Five minutes left.

The board was eerily silent.

No mocking replies, no panicked reactions—just an oppressive stillness.

“This is Defender,” I muttered to myself.

The final minute approached.

At 4:02 PM, a new post appeared.

JUSTICE_MIN: I’m sorry. I apologize.

Justice Min had finally shown himself, with bitter words of regret.

But just moments after his post, another appeared.

Defender: Verification.