Hiding a House in the Apocalypse-Chapter 95.2: Signs (2)

The governments of South Korea and China agreed to end the war. As part of the settlement, China compensated South Korea with the territory of Manchuria as reparations for the damages caused by the war.

This was the gist of the ceasefire plan orchestrated by Kim Byung-cheol.

On paper, it seemed like a perfect victory for South Korea.

Just looking at the land secured, Kim Byung-cheol could be likened to King Gwanggaeto the Great.

But anyone standing at the National Assembly building and looking north would instantly realize what a hollow lie this was.

Monsters roamed everywhere, and Mutations had entrenched themselves across the landscape.

The Legion faction controlled less than 25% of Seoul’s territory—nowhere close to even half.

How they planned to reclaim North Korea, let alone seize control of Manchuria, was beyond me.

This was all just for show.

Nothing more, nothing less.

I met another set of actors in this charade two days before the main event.

A Russian-made helicopter landed near the National Assembly.

Since this was a politically crucial event for Kim Byung-cheol, a simple rehearsal was conducted.

Naturally, I attended as well.

It had been a while since I'd heard scattered Chinese all around me, and it unexpectedly brought back memories of my time in China.

Looking back, those days had been nothing short of hell. Every day was a constant battle for survival. But strangely enough, in some ways, things had been brighter back then.

At least back then, people didn't believe the world was on the brink of complete annihilation.

They still had faith that, as always, humanity would find a way.

Even when we visited bustling cities like Shanghai, the streets had been lively, filled with people laughing and going about their lives.

"Failnet?"

There were several people dealing with the Chinese, and among them was my junior, Kim Daram.

She seemed to still be shaken from her encounter with the B-TIC woman. She had barely acknowledged me with a nod and hadn't spoken a word since—until now.

"Senior, I need to ask you something. What is Failnet?"

"Failnet?"

"Yeah. I figured you’d know since you're always on the internet."

She used the internet too, of course, but like most narrow-minded people, she had zero interest in anything outside of the sites she personally frequented.

With utmost reverence, I answered her.

"Failnet is a completely open anonymous internet site created by the indomitable developer, John Nae-non."

"John Nae-non? Who’s that? A foreigner?"

"He’s Korean. And a truly great man."

"Greater than Jang Ki-young?"

"Don’t insult him with such a pathetic comparison."

"Anyway, the Chinese have been asking about the location of Failnet’s servers for months now. I mean, how the hell would we know that?"

"Why do they want to know where the servers are?"

"They said there's something they need to find. But they won’t say what."

Now that she mentioned it, I'd heard rumors before that the Chinese were desperately searching for Failnet’s servers.

Could it be that someone had backed up classified information there?

I knew exactly where Failnet’s servers were.

But I saw no reason to tell them.

Because Failnet’s servers were enshrined within the tomb of my role model, John Nae-non.

I had no idea what the Chinese hoped to find on that server.

But there was no way in hell I’d let them desecrate his grave just to satisfy their curiosity.

"Sorry, but no one knows where the Failnet servers are. John Nae-non passed away a long time ago."

"I see. By the way, Senior, don’t you think you’re worshipping this John Nae-non guy a bit too much?"

"He deserves to be worshipped."

There was someone standing behind Kim Daram.

A Chinese person.

Kim Daram noticed them and stepped aside.

With her out of the way, the Chinese person came into full view.

She was a woman, around mid-160 cm in height, with a slim build.

Even if I stretched my estimate, she couldn’t have been older than her mid-twenties.

She stared at me intently and spoke in Chinese.

I said nothing.

Even when I had lived in China, I had refused to respond in Chinese.

Now that China had fallen, ignoring her was even easier.

I simply stood still, watching as she rattled off words in a language I had no intention of acknowledging.

Then, she suddenly smirked and switched to a language I was familiar with.

"Why don’t you know Chinese?"

Her Korean was flawless.

If I ignored the fact that she was Chinese, I could have easily mistaken her for a native speaker.

"Are you just uneducated?"

"Who are you?"

At my question, she stared at the golden fleece badge pinned to my chest, then pointed to her own badge, which was far more elaborate and ornate.

Her badge featured a golden dragon soaring skyward, adorned with gems embedded in its eyes and the pearl it clutched in its claws.

But I had no idea what it meant.

I remained silent, and after a moment, she sighed, seemingly frustrated by my lack of recognition.

"Oryongmun. You don't know it? And you’re supposed to be a professor?"

"You’re a member of Oryongmun?"

"Yeah."

She extended a hand.

"My name is Yutong."

A question immediately came to mind.

How could someone her age, with such a frail build, be considered one of China’s strongest?

Hunting monsters was a grueling ordeal.

The hunt itself was a death-defying tightrope act, but even before that, the physical and mental toll was immense.

Even Kim Daram, who could crush most men effortlessly, frequently lamented the limits of her endurance.

And yet, this woman—who appeared to be just an ordinary young girl—was supposedly one of China’s top fighters?

A rumor suddenly surfaced in my mind.

Chinese hunters—particularly the elites—were rumored to use a drug known as combat stimulants.

For them, strength wasn’t measured by pure skill but by how long they could endure the effects of those drugs.

Maybe this frail-looking woman was one of those enhanced humans.

China had no Awakened, after all.

If they wanted to stand a chance against monsters, they had to resort to unethical means.

"Do you use a glaive?"

"Glaive? You mean a crescent blade? No, that’s someone else."

"The one who wiped out the pack of mutated dogs?"

"That was me."

So it was her.

The one who wiped out the Gold Pack, driving even Gold itself to its death.

I didn’t bother hiding my hostility.

But whether she noticed or not, she simply smiled brightly and spoke in a friendly tone.

"I heard you used to wield an axe, Professor."

"That was a long time ago."

"A long time ago?"

"In a world where the Awakened reign supreme, what choice does an outdated hunter have but [N O V E L I G H T] to retire?"

The Chinese hunter gave me a knowing smirk.

"You know, I think there are way too many fanatics on this land."

I gave no reply.

She turned away.

"They’re always causing problems. Always."

After she left, Kim Daram returned to my side.

"That woman... I think she likes you, Senior."

"Really? Didn’t get that vibe at all."

"Last time I went to their base, she didn’t even look at me. She ignored me completely. I don’t know what this Oryongmun thing is, but they act all high and mighty even though no one internationally acknowledges them.

"But with you? She wasn’t nearly as arrogant."

Kim Daram stared at my golden fleece badge.

"Well, you were a big deal back in your day, Senior."

"That was a long time ago."

Thus, the first rehearsal ended without much commotion.

There were 48 hours left until the main event.

A short time, yet long enough.

Thankfully, our accommodations were in a properly restored old hotel, so there were no major inconveniences.

The food wasn’t bad either.

But then—

A problem arose with a device I had almost forgotten about.

Beep— Beep— Beep—

My K-Walkie emitted a tone, signaling an incoming message linked to my personal identification number.

It was Woo Min-hee.

"Hey, Min-hee."

"Senior."

"The signal was bad last time."

"Yeah. Because the surge was massive."

Her voice lacked any trace of amusement.

I could already sense something was wrong.

And I was right.

"The Lighthouse has gone dark."

"The Lighthouse is... out?"

"Yeah. That means the monsters are heading for Seoul."

*

The reason the Lighthouse went dark was almost absurd.

Just as the children had lined up on the wall to ignite the beacon, a mortar shell rained down from above.

Someone had launched an attack.

The Lighthouse’s defense coordinator identified it as a 60mm mortar strike, estimating no more than four launchers involved.

In modern warfare, such firepower wouldn’t be considered significant.

But against the Lighthouse, the situation was entirely different.

Even though the children were Awakened, they had deliberately never been trained for combat.

With explosives raining down on them, all they could do was hide inside the concrete shelter.

As a result, the Lighthouse remained silent for an entire day.

And with no signal to deter them, the monsters advanced south without hindrance.

This incident was proof of just how different fighting monsters was from fighting humans.

The approach, the methods, the solutions—everything was different.

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Back when South Korea still stood strong, soldiers and hunters could cover each other's weaknesses and respond as an organic unit.

But now, with the nation reduced to ruins and what little remained of it fractured into rival factions, such coordinated defense was nothing but a dream.

And so, tragedies like this kept happening.

Woo Min-hee’s warning quickly reached the Legion faction as well.

"Confirmed monster surge at the front! The scale is beyond measurable!"

The event needed to be stopped.

Unless a kill zone had already been established, the best method for handling a large-scale monster horde was the classic strategy:

"Abandon territory and stall for time."

Given enough time, monsters would eventually disperse or self-destruct.

Sure, small infiltration-type creatures wouldn’t succumb to this, but their combat capabilities were nothing compared to the battle-ready mid-sized species.

How much territory needed to be abandoned depended on how long the monsters could persist, but at the very least, this approach minimized casualties and allowed the reclaimed land to be retaken later.

Yes, some small monsters might settle in during the occupation, and some zones might suffer permanent erosion.

But that was still thousands of times smarter than engaging an unstoppable army of monsters in direct combat with insufficient firepower.

Of course, if you took a step back and looked at the bigger picture, this was nothing more than a slow, inevitable defeat for humanity—an attritional war where land was gradually consumed until nothing remained.

Even when South Korea and China were intact, engaging a massive monster horde in an open field—without a fortified kill zone—was nearly impossible to win.

In fact, it had already been proven.

The Chinese military had once made that very mistake.

Some incompetent general—rumored to be the younger brother of the ruling authority—insisted on open warfare, losing an entire elite force along with state-of-the-art weaponry.

That was the infamous Third Battle of Beijing.

A battle that could have been won, but because of one man’s stubbornness, disaster struck.

And now, I could see history repeating itself right before my eyes.

Kim Byung-cheol, much like that foolish Chinese general, was blinded by his own thirst for prestige.

I went to find Kim Daram immediately.

She already knew about the incoming monster wave—her exhausted expression said it all.

"Coffee?" she asked.

"No, I’m good."

"What is it?"

"You already know."

No matter how strained our relationship had become, old teamwork didn’t just disappear.

Once, that connection had been a blessing. Now, it was a curse.

Understanding each other too well wasn’t exactly pleasant—for either of us.

Still, I had to say it.

"They need to cancel the event."

Kim Daram shut her eyes tightly and let out a deep sigh.

"I knew you’d say that."

"And?"

"No."

She shook her head.

"It’s impossible."

"You haven't forgotten what happened in Beijing, have you?"

"...The monsters might change course. If that happens, canceling the event would be premature."

"If they’ve been spotted near Paju, they’ll reach us in less than half a day."

"Do you have any idea how much the Director has invested in this event? He planned it all to align with Memorial Day—to have China surrender on this day..."

My first reaction to her words was uncontrollable rage.

Kim Daram had always been strong-willed. She followed orders, sure, but she wasn’t a mindless lackey.

She had once challenged me, argued with me—not as a junior, but as a peer.

Not with who I am now, but with the Professor I once was.

And now, she was acting like some obedient pet, being kept and fed by her master.

That realization changed my anger into pity—and then disappointment.

And finally, I remembered.

She had a family to protect.

"...I see."

But her family wasn’t my family.

I had no intention of dying for Kim Byung-cheol’s pathetic ego.

"I’m leaving. You can at least let me do that, right?"

"Stay."

"No. I don’t feel like dying."

"Senior."

"You already made me put on a show for the Chinese, didn’t you?"

"If you leave, I might not be able to protect you."

She seemed so small now.

The scar near her eye gave her a tougher appearance, but I could see right through it.

The Kim Daram standing before me was weaker than before.

At least the old Kim Daram wouldn’t have resorted to cheap intimidation.

I stared straight at her.

"If you stay here, everyone dies."

"Or have you erased the number of survivors from Beijing out of your memory?"

No matter how much she had changed, Kim Daram wasn’t a liar.

She didn’t argue further.

She didn’t try to stop me.

I left her behind and walked out of the assembly hall.

That was when I realized.

I had no transportation.

No means of getting back to my territory.

I hesitated, wondering what to do.

Then—

A familiar voice called out from the side.

"Skelton!"

It was none other than my first-ever internet friend.

Defender.