Hiding a House in the Apocalypse-Chapter 63.1: Two Offspring (1)

The saying that “today’s youth aren’t what they used to be” dates back to ancient Greek graffiti.

Anonymous1523: “Yeah, my dad is Yang, Sang, Gil. So what? Huh? What are you gonna do about it?”

Anonymous1523: “Being born to the right parents is a skill, isn’t it? What’s the point of busting your ass studying if all you’re gonna be is a doctor, a prosecutor, or a judge? Even if you become a doctor, can you beat someone like my dad, who had a billion won pre-war?”

Anonymous1523: “Jealous? You’re jealous, aren’t you? Admit it.”

In this sense, Mr. Yang Sang-gil’s son is truly “Greek.”

The name of Yang Sang-gil’s son, as revealed by Gija Yangban, is Beom-hyo. He’s barely twenty years old.

Anonymous1523: “Hey, Gija Yangban, who the hell are you? You seem like you’re with the National Committee since you know who I am. Should I raid your office? Ever been slapped in public? No? I can show you how it feels, LOL.”

It wasn’t hard to confirm that this guy was indeed Yang Sang-gil’s son.

He flaunted it endlessly: luxurious accommodations, extravagant food, designer items, and photos deliberately capturing a woman’s arm in the frame.

The most memorable photo was of a lavishly lit living room, with the bleak, pitch-black ruins of a city in the background.

The response from the Viva! Apocalypse! board was absolute silence.

To be honest, ignoring him was the only thing we could do.

Even our dullest members knew exactly what Anonymous1523 wanted:

He wanted to provoke us, to anger and frustrate us, just so he could laugh and feel entertained.

People like him existed even before the war. Dongtanmom, before being replaced by Baek Seung-hyun, was probably the same way.

But here’s what I find puzzling:

What is his endgame?

Does he even know how to deal with the fallout?

And what about Yang Sang-gil?

I knew he was cowardly and incompetent, but was he really so useless that he couldn’t even keep his son in check?

Now that I think about it, I’ve never heard Yang Sang-gil talk about his children.

Our board has really hit rock bottom.

mmmmmmmmm: “Wow...”

mmmmmmmmm: “Looks delicious...”

mmmmmmmmm: “Wait, is that a V8 engine?! Unbelievable! Can I take it for a spin?”

“...Seriously?”

M9, that bastard.

He’s outright sucking up to Anonymous1523, groveling in full view of everyone.

I tilted my head, arms crossed.

Is M9 struggling these days?

Then again, when hasn’t he been?

Living in a precarious place makes your spirit naturally unsteady, I suppose.

Yesterday, I accidentally hunted a wild boar.

It was a juvenile female, separated from its herd, wandering lost until it ran into me.

I didn’t mean to kill it, but it happened.

I’m not short on food, but fresh protein is always welcome, especially with the long winter ahead.

I decided to prioritize butchering it properly.

From past experience with Gold—when he brought me some prey to process—I learned it’s best to do this sort of thing outdoors.

The smell, fur, filth, and the effort to keep the place clean make it too much trouble to handle inside the bunker.

I laid the boar on a flat wooden platform I’d taken from the lower village when Rebecca’s group was building their place.

Skinning the fresh carcass, the hide came off smoothly.

As morbid as it sounds, it was oddly satisfying.

Once the hide was removed, it looked just like the slabs of meat you’d see hanging in a butcher’s shop—apart from the head.

Thud!

I had just lopped off the head when the radio buzzed.

“Oh, yeah. When are you moving in?”

Rebecca’s preparations for relocating were almost complete.

The area was cleaned up, the wiring was properly fixed, and the boiler had passed its tests.

They just needed to make the move.

“Maybe later. I still need to think about it.”

Rebecca, however, seemed reluctant to commit.

I understood why—probably because of Sue.

Even with our long-standing trust, it must be daunting for a mother to share living space with an unrelated man.

Not that I minded; the later they moved, the better for me.

To be honest, if they could manage to stay where they were, it’d probably be better for everyone. Or maybe they could just stay through the winter.

“Got it. Let me know if you change your mind. Oh, by the way, I caught a boar. Need some meat? Okay, later.”

As I ended the call and contemplated where to dispose of the boar’s head, I heard a faint rustling.

I immediately dropped the head, grabbed my rifle, and aimed it toward the thicket.

“Come out.”

The most uptodate nove𝙡s are published on frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓.

Click.

“Hurry!”

At my sharp command, the intruder emerged hesitantly from the tall grass.

“...What the—?”

It wasn’t a person.

It was a dog—or rather, a juvenile one that hadn’t yet grown into its massive frame.

The problem was, this pup was already bigger than me.

“...Mutation.”

The creature panted heavily, its tongue lolling out.

It looked rough—dirty fur, a limp in one leg, and visibly exhausted.

I stared at the mutated dog and asked, almost absentmindedly:

“Gold?”

The dog wagged its tail.

I wasn’t sure if it was confirming my guess or just happy to see me, but the only mutant pups I’d seen recently were Gold’s offspring.

“...Are you one of Gold’s pups?”

This one had white fur mixed with gray, resembling a Siberian Husky—similar to its mother.

But why was it here?

The pup sniffed the air, its gaze landing on the boar I was butchering. Drool dripped from its mouth.

It must’ve been starving.

I glanced at its sharp, wolf-like teeth and decided to offer it the innards I’d stored in a large plastic basin.

The pup wagged its tail furiously, devouring the entrails with fervor.

“....”

While it ate, I scanned the surroundings, rifle ready.

There were no other mutated dogs in sight.

It had come alone, crawling through a blind spot to enter my territory.

“Where’s your dad?”

The pup just looked at me, tilting its head, before going back to the entrails.

Unlike its father, it didn’t seem to understand human speech—or perhaps it had never had the chance to learn.

Gold had been raised by humans, but this one likely grew up in the wild, communicating only with other dogs.

Still, it was smart enough to remember this place and seek out a human its father had trusted.

Once the pup finished eating, it stood tall on its legs, its strength seemingly restored.

“What?”

It didn’t respond, just stared at me.

Unlike Gold, this one looked a bit... dim.

Suddenly, the pup turned, barked softly, and trotted ahead, glancing back at me.

“Are you asking me to follow you?”

The pup didn’t reply but continued to stare.

As I hesitated, it seemed to grow drowsy, its eyes drooping until it plopped down and began to nap.

I sighed and returned to my work.

“Fine. Sleep.”

As I resumed butchering the boar, I couldn’t shake the thought that the pup’s presence here meant something bad had happened to Gold.

The last time I saw him, he was being chased by Chinese hunters after losing his mate.

Perhaps he met a similar fate this time, or maybe he succumbed to his injuries.

Either way, once the pup woke up, I’d have to find out the truth about Gold’s condition.

*

SKELTON: (Skeleton Dinner) “Here’s tonight’s meal, haha.”

“Last night, a wild boar suddenly attacked me. Out of instinct, I kicked it, and the beast collapsed on the spot...”

Sharing resources and knowledge is one of the core principles of our board members. So, I cooked something with the boar’s front leg and shared the results.

Anonymous458: “What’s that? A wild boar? Did you catch it yourself?”

Anonymous1001: “Wild boar tastes amazing. All we have around here are roe deer.”

Foxgames: “Did you butcher it yourself?”

Defender: “Huh?”

Anonymous1001: “Looks well-cooked. Did you use soybean paste?”

The post got decent engagement. Carefully presented meals often do well on our board.

But good things don’t last.

Soon after I posted my boiled wild boar dish, Yang Sang-gil’s son uploaded his own post.

Anonymous1523: “Tonight’s dinner~ Steak (feat. vintage wine).”

“...”

I clicked on his post.

It was an actual steak.

A perfectly cooked T-bone steak, its juices glistening, plated alongside artful garnishes and paired with an elegant glass of wine. The presentation was enough to mock my senses and appetite.

If that had been all, I might have let it go.

Anonymous1523: “That wild boar? My dad’s lackeys brought me some. Took one whiff and couldn’t eat it—it reeked.”

Anonymous1523: “Honestly, pork is inferior to beef anyway.”

Anonymous1523: “I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve eaten pork in my life. It’s disgusting. If pork’s bad, wild boar must be worse. I’d rather eat instant noodles.”

This guy was clearly targeting me.

He must’ve seen my post and decided to stir the pot.

Naturally, the board villain didn’t get much engagement—well, not entirely true.

mmmmmmmmm: “Wow... (drooling)”

M9 doesn’t really count as a person anymore, so it’s effectively zero comments. Not a single meaningful response.

I closed the irritating window but couldn’t shake the irritation.

What gave this brat the right to behave like such a tyrant?

It’s almost funny, in a bitter way, how Yang Sang-gil, who sent other families to their doom, can’t even discipline his own delinquent son.

The sun was setting.

The daytime temperature had reached 28°C, but by nightfall, it would drop to 8°C.

I donned a thick jacket, prepared for the cold, and stepped out of the bunker.

The silver giant pup was waiting quietly by the entrance.

“Silver.”

I’d given him a name. His father was Gold, and his silver fur made it fitting.

He seemed to like it, barking softly.

“Woof!”

“Alright, let’s go. Lead the way.”

But after a few steps, Silver suddenly lowered his tail and looked at me.

“What’s wrong? Did you forget? Can’t you sniff it out? You’re a dog, aren’t you?”

There’s a saying: “Like father, like son.”

In Silver’s case, I wasn’t sure what to call it.

Realizing Silver was hopelessly incompetent, I decided to rely on the basics: backtracking.

I returned to the site where the Chinese hunters had slaughtered the mutated dogs.

The area was relatively well-preserved; there hadn’t been any heavy rain.

Rotting canine corpses lay scattered, some reduced to bare bones.

Silver whimpered, trembling nervously.

“Shh.”

I silenced him and scanned the area.

It was the work of a first-rate hunter—someone capable of taking down four dogs alone, without backup.

The weapon used was a chu-ko-nu, a type of advanced hunter technology unfamiliar to me. Its destructive power was evident.

One of the dogs had been torn in half at the spine.

Chinese hunter weaponry was impressive, a result of their nation’s decision to invest in pure human technological advancements rather than relying on Awakened individuals.

Why China chose to reject the Awakened remains a mystery.

There are reports suggesting high-level Awakened individuals become more unstable after awakening, but I’ve never personally encountered such cases.

Director Woo, for example, was already odd before awakening and actually became more composed afterward.

Nearby, another pup had been killed.

Its tiny body was impaled on a pole, rotting as flies buzzed around.

Judging by its posture, it hadn’t been dead when it was skewered.

It likely died crying out for its parents.

“....”

The Chinese hunter’s target had clearly been Gold.

A seasoned and ruthless predator, like Defender.

Leaving the corpses behind, I followed the trail of Gold’s pack.

Tracking large animals like these wasn’t too difficult, even in the dark.

Soon, Silver began leading the way, seemingly remembering something.

“What now? Did it finally come back to you?”

His behavior suggested he was guiding me. He’d walk ahead, then stop and glance back as if checking on me.

That resemblance to Sue sparked a glimmer of hope—maybe Gold wasn’t dead after all.

The trail wasn’t far; Silver was still a pup, after all.

But as we moved deeper into unfamiliar territory, unease crept in.

I rarely ventured south, let alone this far.

The desolation ahead was twice as barren as my own territory.

Wrecked tanks stood as silent monuments, their silhouettes stark under the moonlight.

Silver trotted through the wasteland, his steps full of puppy-like energy.

Where he stopped wasn’t a forest, a mountain, or a cave, but an abandoned, decrepit house.

Already, I could smell death.

Buzzing.

Flies swarmed, filling my ears and eyes with their irritation.

Pushing through the crumbling wall, I saw him.

A massive dog lay injured, dying.

“Gold.”

I shone my light on him, inspecting his wounds.

It wasn’t human weapons that had injured him.

Other dogs had torn him apart.