Hiding a House in the Apocalypse-Chapter 61.1: Recommendation (1)
For the first time in a while, the president sent out a message.
In a video barely a minute long, a visibly gaunt president expressed his deep regret and announced his decision to step down.
Whether he resigned or not made little difference to me. However, it was noteworthy that he planned to send a proxy to represent him in Incheon.
For the first time since the post-war chaos began, someone responsible was being assigned to restore order.
The interim president was expected to stabilize both the temporary capital in Incheon and the remaining regions until a new presidential election could be held next spring.
But that so-called proxy...
I knew him.
gijayangban: "Yang Sang-gil has been appointed as the government’s interim president."
Random User: "Who’s Yang Sang-gil? Lol."
gijayangban: "He used to be the head of Gukwiwon. Lol. I guess he’ll do fine? Lol."
I knew Woo Min-hee hated Yang Sang-gil, but the sheer number of "lol"s tacked onto her comments revealed that her loathing for him ran deeper than the ocean.
I couldn’t help but wonder how Eom Chang-yi would react.
It was a curiosity I’d have to take to the grave.
Visit freewebnoveℓ.com for the best novel reading exp𝒆rience.
With the government in disarray, Woo Min-hee’s stalking naturally ceased.
Hoping she’d stay busy, I turned my attention back to the forum, which I had neglected recently.
To be honest, I hadn’t been active on the forum lately.
There was too much going on—preparing for winter, helping Rebecca move, and so many other tasks that left me no time to breathe.
But now that winter preparations were almost complete, and I had some breathing room, I found myself returning to the forum and even browsing PaleNet again.
Lately, PaleNet had been filled with conspicuous posts:
Hesitation: "The Chinese government’s suppression of the Many Returning to the Source Sect."
Paradise Nirvana: (Power of Dialogue) "The Many Returning to the Source Sect seeks harmony with the beings humans call monsters."
Foolishness (愚痴): "Master Ma Won-gap sipping tea alongside monsters."
Happy Fool: "Erosion? NO! Harmony? YES!"
It was a cult.
While I had been away, these fanatics had polluted John Nae-non’s sacred PaleNet with their garbage.
Their actions were blatantly organized.
They swarmed popular forums, posting advertisements as mindlessly as machines rather than humans.
I’d heard that many of these zealots were North Korean survivors.
These “pacifists” had allegedly lived alongside monsters in completely eroded North Korea. When the frontlines collapsed, they migrated en masse to South Korea’s surviving cities, spreading their fanaticism.
There were even reports that the Legion faction had aligned itself with this cult.
Thankfully, PaleNet’s response was underwhelming:
ㅇㅇ: "Get lost. Out of all the things to believe in, you choose Chinese nonsense?"
ㅇㅇ: "Believe what you want, but leave us out of it."
ㅇㅇ: "Your mom’s a monster."
That was the normal response.
A sane person would react that way.
I added my own comment:
SKELTON: "Kyaaa~! Monster!"
Lately, I’d found that writing absurd comments was surprisingly therapeutic.
It was like the thrill a child feels playing with fire.
I remembered Kang Han-min, now revered as a savior, had a similar hobby.
Back in China, when I once sat at the cafeteria’s communal computer to watch beatbox videos, I noticed someone had left an internet browser open.
There was a post typed out:
Kang Han-min: "Big bro~ That’s a urinal, not a drinking fountain!"
(A cartoon of an elephant sticking its trunk into a toilet accompanied the post.)
This bizarre post turned out to be Kang Han-min’s work.
When he returned to the computer, his face flushed red as he hurriedly explained himself.
“It’s... it’s for PTSD prevention, okay? When people get too stressed, they break. This is a way to vent.”
I recalled how he had smiled sadly, staring into the distance as he added:
“Whether it’s people or machines, once something breaks, it’s hard to return it to how it was.”
At the time, I hated Jang Ki-young. But I had already been indoctrinated with his philosophy: “If it breaks, it was weak. If a machine fails, it was poorly made.”
So I dismissed Kang Han-min’s words back then.
The memory resurfaced, likely because of a minor incident that occurred just before winter.
Anonymous848: "Skelton, can you help me? It’s important."
The message from Anonymous848 was the start of all the trouble.
*
Anonymous848 was a long-time regular on the forum.
Back in the day, he used to hang out with Kyle Dos and Anonymous458, forming a lively trio that brought some energy to our otherwise quiet space. Even after Kyle Dos disappeared, Anonymous848 remained active, adding his unique flair to discussions.
I had actually met him once before.
During the second Sunbi incident, when Dies_Irae and I went to scold some teenagers, Anonymous848 had joined us.
At the time, he’d covered his face with sunglasses and a mask, but it was clear he was over 40.
Regardless of his age, he had left a positive impression on me as a cheerful and decent person.
And now, he was asking for my help.
SKELTON: What’s going on? Where are you? Right now?
I remembered he had once mentioned living in Pyeongtaek.
Sure enough, that’s where he was—specifically near the Anseongcheon River, which flows into Asan Bay.
It wasn’t far, and there didn’t seem to be any major threats in the south, so getting there wouldn’t be a problem.
When I asked what he needed, he said he required an extra hand. He wasn’t asking for supplies or food, which was a relief considering some forum users had resorted to begging for rations.
“Hmm.”
Getting there wasn’t the issue.
The only concern was whether the person messaging me really was Anonymous848.
It wasn’t uncommon for refugees to kill someone, take their internet identity, and lure unsuspecting forum users into traps.
After a brief deliberation, I decided to test him.
SKELTON: It feels like this is our first real meeting. What do you look like?
His reply came quickly.
Anonymous848: What are you talking about? We met during the Sunbi incident. Don’t you remember?
SKELTON: (Skelton memory lapse)
“Hmm.”
It seemed like he really was who he claimed to be.
I asked again what he needed.
He said he wanted to go somewhere but didn’t have a means of transportation—or the courage to go alone.
Anonymous848: If you help me out, I’ll upvote all your posts on the forum.
SKELTON: Where exactly are you?
I got on my motorcycle and headed to his area.
I passed through the outskirts of Gold’s territory, through a wilderness on its edge, and along the riverbank near a ruined city.
Before the war, there had been a beautiful trail here where I used to go trekking. Now, the trail was overgrown with reeds and weeds, making it almost impossible to find.
Rusting exercise equipment sticking out above the reeds hinted at the trail’s existence, a lonely reminder of what used to be.
The absence of people was evident by the skeletal remains of a body hanging from a tree, long since turned to bone, still unretrieved.
Using an abandoned factory as a landmark, I found Anonymous848’s territory.
He lived by the river.
Like many survivalists, he seemed to be dumping his wastewater directly into the water—a risky but necessary choice.
In the distance, I spotted an old bus stop.
Instead of stopping my motorcycle there immediately, I took a quick lap around the area to scout for signs of an ambush or an attack.
Finding none, I parked the motorcycle by the bus stop and honked the horn four times.
This was the signal we’d agreed upon.
Hiding behind a tree with my gun drawn, I scanned the surroundings, waiting for someone to appear.
Soon, a figure emerged from the forest.
A man, medium height, scrawny frame.
Hollow cheeks and a gloomy expression.
It was my first time seeing his face, but I knew who he was.
It was Anonymous848.
“Skelton.”
He was the first to speak, calling me by my nickname.
“848,” I replied with his nickname in turn.
We stood face-to-face.
He extended a fist, and I lightly bumped it with my own in greeting.
“I didn’t think you’d actually come.”
“When a forum buddy calls, you come. What’s the deal? Why’d you call me out of the blue?”
He looked neither particularly healthy nor particularly ill. His clothes were clean.
But there was an intense conflict etched into his face, giving me a bad feeling.
“Do you remember Kyle Dos?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“I was pretty close to him. Anonymous458 was part of our group too, but I was closer to Kyle on a personal level.”
The way he hesitated before speaking confirmed my suspicions that this wasn’t going to be a simple favor.
Looking up at me with the pleading eyes of someone about to ask for something difficult, he finally said it.
“Capsule.”
Of course.
“Skelton, you cleared a capsule near Kyle Dos’s place, didn’t you?”
“Did Kyle tell you that?”
“It was just between us. Nobody else knows—not even Anonymous458.”
“...I see.”
I sighed, glancing around.
There wasn’t even a hint of a bunker or anything resembling a shelter nearby.
“Let me have some water. It’s warm today.”
“Wait a second. I’ve got some drinks left.”
“What kind?”
“Tejava.”
“Anything else?”
“I’ve got Pine Needle Water.”
“What about Coke or Sprite?”
“Nope. Early in the war, I raided a warehouse, and that’s all that was left.”
“Fine, bring the Tejava. No ice, I assume?”
“Luxury like that? Not likely. It’s only September.”
I followed him as he went to grab the drink.
“Hey, don’t follow me. Stay here. Stay!”
“Why? I just want to check out your bunker.”
“Uh, well... my bunker’s kind of...”
He avoided eye contact.
“What? Is there something weird in there?”
“Uh, yeah! There’s stuff I don’t want anyone to see.”
“It’s fine. I don’t care if it’s sex dolls, corpses, or women. I’m just curious about what your bunker looks like.”
“Can we just do it another time? Please?”
That’s when I realized it.
This man, who was apologetic yet adamantly refusing to show me his bunker, was hiding something.
Women? Corpses?
Whatever it was, I decided it didn’t matter.
In times like these, anything could happen.
“I’ll wait here.”
“Thank you! I’m really sorry, Skelton. I keep asking for favors and making demands.”
“Take your time.”
While waiting for him to return, I thought about the capsule.
It was a troublesome and dangerous task.
The fact that capsules had appeared even this far back suggested a grim future.
But maybe... it could be useful.
If I placed the capsule in a path the Legion faction might take, it could distract them from targeting me.
With the southern regions already destroyed, adding another monster lair wouldn’t make much difference.
As I mulled over the possibilities, I noticed something.
Ten minutes had passed, and Anonymous848 hadn’t returned.
What was taking him so long?
A rustling sound came from the dense forest, but it wasn’t in the direction he had gone.
Taking cover, I quietly drew my pistol and focused on the source of the noise.
Soon, a person emerged from the trees.
It wasn’t Anonymous848.
It was a woman.
She appeared to be in her mid-20s, unarmed, and in decent physical condition. Her clothes were clean, and she seemed to be desperately looking for someone.
“Skelton? Skelton?” she called out in a dry, anxious voice, scanning her surroundings.
Was she looking for me?
I slowly stepped out of hiding.
Her eyes locked onto me.
“Skelton?”
I nodded, and her face lit up with relief.
“Are you really Skelton?”
Staring at her cautiously, I asked, “Who are you?”
She seemed sharp. Her initial smile vanished, replaced by a look of desperation and fear as she clung to me.
“I’m sorry to say this, but I was kidnapped by Anonymous848!”
“...Kidnapped?”
“Yes! He’s been holding me for over two years. Every day, he forces himself on me. I can’t live like this anymore. Please, I beg you—get me out of here! I’ll do anything, just get me away from him!”
She broke down, tears spilling as she continued.
“Every day is hell. He demands things constantly, and when I refuse, he makes the entire day a nightmare. I don’t think I can take it anymore. I might... I might kill myself.”
Her voice faltered as her gaze shifted behind me.
Someone else had appeared.
“Yejin.”
It was Anonymous848.
His face was pale as he alternated glances between us, finally fixing his gaze on the woman—Yejin. His voice was a mix of sorrow and anger.
“What are you doing there?”
Yejin clung to me desperately.
“Skelton, please! Help me! I’m begging you!”
“What the hell are you doing!?”
With both of them shouting, I found myself rubbing the back of my neck in exasperation.
“Hah.”
For the first time today, I wondered if the capsule might actually be the least of my problems.
