Hiding a House in the Apocalypse

Humans are neither machines nor monsters.

So naturally, no two people see the world the same way.

And yet, when you observe public opinion, even perspectives themselves get judged and ranked.

The one most often praised and deemed “normal” is the optimistic viewpoint.

Optimists believe in the present. Or at least, they believe that even if things are lacking, they can improve—that things will get better in the future.

Pessimists, on the other hand, get pointed at. A lot. freeweɓnovel.cøm

In fields that involve predicting the future, pessimists are mocked or condemned. And when their claims are too difficult to refute, they get ignored.

Even us doomers were just another type of pessimists.

Listing out all the ridicule and contempt we endured... after five years of war, there’s not much point anymore.

Still, it’s strange.

If people are allowed to be optimistic about the world, shouldn’t they also be allowed to be pessimistic?

So why is society so merciless toward the pessimists?

The trouble started the morning after Pyo Won-sang and I agreed to put our masks back on.

Pyo Won-sang and Ha Tae-hoon got into an argument.

According to what was passed around, it got serious enough that Pyo Won-sang actually pulled a pistol and aimed it at Ha Tae-hoon’s head.

I don’t have much to say about their fight, but one thing I do know for certain:

My senior, Ha Tae-hoon, is a far more committed pessimist than I am.

*

I didn’t hear it from the people involved, so I can’t say what triggered the confrontation, but thanks to those nearby—especially those close to people like Emgu—I was able to roughly reconstruct what happened through their testimonies.

To me, Pyo Won-sang is clever, crafty, and loves playing mind games. But apparently, those who deal with him more directly see him in a different light.

To them, the most obvious trait in Pyo Won-sang is narcissism.

Let’s hear from Sergeant Kwon, who’s grown friendly with Emgu.

“...That guy thinks he’s always right. Thinks his vision is absolute truth. If anyone disagrees, he launches into his life story unprompted. Talks about how he reached the top of Korea before he even hit thirty.”

According to people around him, Pyo Won-sang has the mindset of a self-made mid-sized CEO.

Unlike the flexible posture he showed me, he’s said to act very authoritarian in meetings he leads—refusing any rebuttals.

Given all that, one thing’s clear: Pyo Won-sang is a textbook optimist.

“If we just take Shangri-La, it’s game over. Once we eliminate the hostile forces, we’ll have a livable base for at least the next hundred years. While the dumbasses left in Seoul slowly rot, we can kick back and enjoy some laid-back country life.”

Right now, Pyo Won-sang is most optimistic about the future of Shangri-La.

Supposedly, the moment he saw Jeong Dae-kyung’s Shangri-La, he trembled head to toe.

He muttered something about it being the last refuge we should all be heading to.

But not everyone sees Shangri-La the same way.

Especially the Hunters who’ve been in real combat—they don’t have a favorable opinion of the place.

Back during the China operations, there was no such thing as “Shangri-La,” but we were aware there were small pockets deep in the erosion zones that hadn’t been affected. We even ran operations in a few.

From what we saw, Shangri-La-type areas were really just slivers of land caught between overlapping edges of rift zones. Small, random, and unstable.

One original Shangri-La we encountered was located on the meander of a violent river that washed everything away during heavy rain. Another was a garbage dump choked with toxic stench. Another was mostly barren desert.

Compared to that, Jeong Dae-kyung’s Shangri-La had a better setup—but it came with its own problems.

“...There are too many enemies. And it’s not easy to defend. The Hyeongsan River is narrower, shallower, and has less water than the Han River. Meaning monsters won’t even bother going around—it’s not an obstacle.”

Too many enemies. Poor defensibility.

For someone like me, a serious survivalist, those are fatal issues.

There are only two solutions: overwhelming power, or hiding from it all.

At first glance, Pyo Won-sang’s Exploration Corps seems to possess the former.

If he wanted to, he could probably wipe out all the survivor groups surrounding the city in one blow.

But they aren’t the only threat in the area.

There are the Wakou—armed Japanese survivor groups who’ve clashed with Jeong Dae-kyung’s forces in the past.

Their combat ability was weak, but as more people fled the collapsing Japanese islands, it was inevitable that their numbers and quality would improve.

Given that Japan’s population was always larger than Korea’s—still over 50 million recently—it’s not a threat you can dismiss.

The second major threat is, of course, monsters.

Shangri-La may be safe from erosion, but not from monsters.

There’s nothing stopping mid-tier or even large monsters roaming the nearby erosion zone from suddenly crossing the boundary.

Small ones might be manageable with current Hunter power, but once you hit mid-tier or higher, you need Awakened or heavy weaponry.

And above all, monsters are infinite.

An over-level-10 Awakened like Jeong Dae-kyung could block them at no cost—but Pyo Won-sang can’t.

He may have overwhelming force now, but if the attrition war drags on, his forces will dwindle to the level of just another warlord’s gang.

That’s what Ha Tae-hoon was worried about.

I agree with him.

Jeong Dae-kyung’s territory, centered on the ancient tomb area near the Hyeongsan River, isn’t suited for defending against people or monsters.

It held only because of a powerhouse like Jeong Dae-kyung. The terrain alone isn’t enough.

Contrast that with New Seoul, which had the Han River as a massive natural barrier.

Not to mention it inherited vast manufacturing facilities and resources from the previous government—giving it a buffer even in a war of attrition.

In comparison, Jeong Dae-kyung’s domain only has homemade bullets, aging shells, no production base, and no raw materials to replenish supplies.

Sure, it has a strong power supply from a nearby nuclear plant—but human society doesn’t run on electricity alone.

“Hunter Ha Tae-hoon’s argument has merit. Definitely. And he didn’t even say that much. Just pointed out some of the potential problems.”

Sergeant Kwon sipped his instant coffee, recalling the morning’s events.

“But for some reason, Commissioner Pyo Won-sang just blew up. Like, way out of proportion. It wasn’t even something worth getting that mad about.”

Reconstructing the scene: Ha Tae-hoon raised a cautious point, prompted by all the reasons listed above.

It was the kind of thing anyone could brush off—or at least just take under advisement.

But for some unknown reason, Pyo Won-sang lost it. Started shouting, pointing fingers, even went personal.

Now, Ha Tae-hoon is the quiet, conflict-avoidant type—but he’s still a school-trained Hunter.

Even if he calls himself an outsider, deep down he carries the pride and combative instincts of an elite.

If he didn’t, he would’ve never survived that hellhole of a training school, let alone made it to the battlefield.

So when the verbal attack came out of nowhere, he fought back.

Sergeant Kwon couldn’t remember the exact words, but it was something like:

“Can’t we take our time with this? You said we’d live here for a hundred years, right? So let’s think it through.”

Kwon himself seemed unsure of the wording, °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° but he clearly remembered what Ha Tae-hoon muttered after storming out of the HQ car:

“...Fucking little bug from some backwater slum.”

Kwon added:

“I thought he was a mild guy. Didn’t expect him to curse like that—but man, that pronunciation was crisp.”

Anyway, Woo Min-hee had her own reaction to this whole episode.

“If they fight, isn’t that good for us?”

For once, Cheon Young-jae and I were in full agreement.

We both gave a dry smile and said almost the same thing.

“No. They’ll patch it up quick. Or just let it fizzle out.”

Ha Tae-hoon is a complex man, hard to sum up in one sentence—but if I had to name one defining trait?

He’s passive.

Unless there’s a very specific reason to act, he tends to maintain a passive stance.

So while he argued with Pyo Won-sang, it’s unlikely he’d go as far as staging a coup or anything like that.

“...Senior Ha might’ve flared up, but he’ll swallow it. He’ll grumble under his breath, but he’s not the type to lash out.”

Cheon Young-jae thought the situation could be patched up because of Ha Tae-hoon, but I was watching both men.

Sure, Pyo Won-sang lost his temper briefly—but he’s still a clever guy.

He knows what benefits him, and what consequences to avoid.

That sort of calculation is what made last night’s dramatic compromise possible.

Sure enough, by midday, we heard through Emgu that Pyo Won-sang had personally called Ha Tae-hoon over to apologize.

A lukewarm little incident.

That afternoon, supplies were distributed to the local residents.

There was also a survey for those wanting to relocate to Seoul—quite a hot topic.

Apparently, over half of the 20,000 residents expressed a desire to go.

“Fantastic.”

Pyo Won-sang was said to be thrilled by the news.

From his perspective, unvetted civilians are a liability—not to mention potential monster magnets.

He might’ve even considered a mass purge like in Jeju, so hearing that the population could be cut in half was music to his ears.

But I read that number differently.

A large number of people wanting to leave is never a good sign.

Before the war, people flocked to good neighborhoods—not struggling ones.

Even from a random local during patrol, it wasn’t hard to get a sense of why people were eager to flee.

“There’s no General. We can’t survive without the General. Do you know how often monsters show up around here?”

A retired soldier missing a wrist told me his own version of the past:

“Honestly, the only reason General Jeong Dae-kyung managed to hold this place was because of monsters. The warlord before him got driven out by the monsters coming up from Yangsan. Look, Pyo Won-sang might’ve rolled in with a whole army, but the previous guy wasn’t weak either. He had two infantry divisions and a special ops brigade under him. Even absorbed a Marine unit later. Still couldn’t hold it.”

One week passed.

Pyo Won-sang’s mood had visibly improved.

He came to inform us:

“You’re free to head to Seoul now.”

Just a week ago, he was dead set against it. The reason for his sudden about-face? He believes Shangri-La has been secured.

Jeong Dae-kyung remains missing, and his remaining forces are unaccounted for.

In the meantime, Pyo’s soldiers have seized key points and fortified them.

Local civilian operations proceeded smoothly.

The residents loyal to Jeong Dae-kyung didn’t exactly welcome Pyo—but they didn’t resist, either.

Reportedly, the number of civilians requesting relocation to Seoul passed 15,000.

What likely thrilled Pyo the most, though, was the call from Seoul.

“My colleagues in Seoul said they’re going to allocate massive funding to support this area. Seoul is still holding strong, but it’s not a permanent Shangri-La, right? No one knows what’ll happen. So this is kind of a risk-dispersal investment—they’re backing us here.”

He radiated energy. His expression gleamed with the confidence of a man who thought he’d won.

“That’s right. We’ve secured Shangri-La. And almost without bloodshed.”

There was no doubt—he was optimistic.

Then he asked:

“Just asking out of curiosity—Commander Park Gyu, are you sure you don’t want to stay?”

“Me?”

“Yes. I admit there’s been some friction between us. But isn’t living in the past a bit shortsighted? As you can see, we’ve discovered and taken hold of our ideal utopia. Wouldn’t this wonderful place shine even brighter with someone like you here?”

He really is clever.

Sharp, quick thinker. Emotionally restrained. Rational.

But right now, I’ll withhold judgment.

“We’ve succeeded.”

He’s drunk on optimism.

Maybe not poison—maybe something closer to alcohol.

And alcohol and poison aren’t such different siblings, when you think about it.

Maybe that’s why—

“...I’m not so sure.”

Even a hint of doubt reveals how flimsy his optimism is.

“Commander? What’s wrong? Do you think this place is unsafe? Haha, that’s surprising. I didn’t expect someone of your caliber to look at the situation so pessimistically... like some third-rate Hunter.”

What I saw in that moment was fear.

Fear was what gave birth to his optimism.

That might be why he clings to it so desperately—because it’s weak and fleeting.

It’s not only those who know the truth who turn pessimistic.

Some who know it very well—too well—try to drown it out with blind optimism.

That approach might have worked in a world where time eventually fixed things.

But that world vanished with the war.

*

That dawn—

BOOM!

A shockwave echoed across the mountains overlooking Seorabeol. Even from afar, it was unmistakable.

Pyo Won-sang dispatched drones and recon units. By early morning, he went on a public broadcast to assure everyone that there was no issue.

But the local residents all said the same thing:

“It’s the General.”

“The General has returned!”

Jeong Dae-kyung... had returned.