Hiding a House in the Apocalypse

The train arrived in Seoul amid an uneasy atmosphere.

The conductor had reported a minor malfunction before we reached the city, but I insisted we push through.

I didn’t want to delay any longer. I needed to see the situation in Seoul for myself.

From a distance, the city looked no different than when we departed.

In fact, in several places, I could see buildings I didn’t recognize being extended upward with the help of tower cranes.

A small group of people came to meet us.

Among them were representatives from the Jeju Committee, though they didn’t seem particularly focused on me.

If anything, they appeared to welcome my return.

“I’m Kim So-uk. I’ve heard plenty about you, but it’s my first time seeing you in person. I heard the journey was rough.”

Only a few people knew I had killed Pyo Won-sang, and even if the Jeju Committee had found out, it wouldn’t change much.

Pyo Won-sang had already split from the Committee. From their perspective, he was a traitor who had taken valuable manpower and supplies for his own gain. Just as Pyo had held me in high regard, the Committee still valued me highly.

Of course, that didn’t mean I could afford to let my guard down.

I had already made my decision.

I would meet with Kang Han-min.

I would gauge his true intentions and decide my own future.

Whether to stay here—or return to my home.

Unfortunately, Kang Han-min was currently out dealing with the Paju Rift.

So for now, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to take a look around the city.

According to Woo Min-hee, our city was on the verge of exploding.

Phrases like “the country is turning upside down” or “about to blow” were common to us doomers. We’d longed for those moments. But maybe because of that, we also knew—such catastrophes rarely play out as expected.

*

For the past half year, one issue had been dividing New Seoul.

Elections.

That problem had apparently been resolved while we were away in Gyeongju.

“Sunbae. You could’ve at least contacted me. I was worried, you know?”

Just looking at Kim Daram’s flashy suit, gleaming name tag, and an equally shiny smile made it obvious she was in a great mood.

Kim Daram had become a "Citizen Commissioner."

In terms of authority and position, she now held the same status as the Jeju Committee—the highest decision-making body of the current government.

The issue? She didn’t win that position through an election.

It was simply handed to her.

More precisely, the Jeju Committee “shared” their positions with select election candidates—ones like Kim Daram.

Of course, they didn’t just hand them out to nobodies.

They gave those precious seats to candidates with high name recognition, popularity, and powerful backing.

A sly and clever move.

High name recognition and popularity meant they came with a following—an established faction.

Kim Daram may have lacked credentials, but she had one thing: a well-known sunbae.

“Well, I have to do my best now. They’ve recognized me again. Unlike the other commissioners, I’ve actually got real field experience. I plan to use that to command the old-school—no, the traditional Hunters—to keep the Mutations in check and expand the city’s perimeter.”

She looked more confident than ever.

“Where’s Min-hee? Did she return alone?”

She hadn’t forgotten Woo Min-hee, either.

That memory of hers was something else.

“Oh, and we’re developing a new residential zone overlooking the Han River. You probably guessed—it’s luxury housing. We’ve decided to build 1,200 new units. Not quite apartments, more like villas? But high-end villas, obviously. I even reserved a spot for you, sunbae. A penthouse! One with a view straight onto the Han River! Great place to raise kids, right?”

Maybe it wasn’t her memory that was good—just her ability to forget what she wanted to.

I listened to her well-meaning “generosity” with one ear and let it pass out the other, then sent her on her way.

“......”

A rushed election—or rather, a skipped one—was more than enough reason for a city to flip over.

And yet, according to locals, that wasn’t exactly how it had played out.

“Skelton.”

I had arranged a meeting with Defender.

And standing beside him—another familiar face.

Hong Da-jeong.

“Skelton, long time no see!”

She looked noticeably better.

Not just healthier in appearance—there was a glow of confidence I hadn’t seen in her before.

Over tea with the Defender siblings, we shared a few war stories and lighthearted complaints. It had been a while since we could relax like this.

Overall, the siblings seemed to be doing well.

Da-jeong, having regained her health, smiled more ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) often—and glanced at me with what felt like growing intensity.

As for Defender, it seemed he’d recently started seeing someone.

“Ah, it’s not that serious. We’re just meeting up. Not at the level of ‘girlfriend.’ More than an acquaintance, less than a close friend?”

Defender mumbled, uncharacteristically shy. Da-jeong teased him with a mischievous look.

“You should be more assertive. You’re so good at killing people—why do you clam up when it comes to her?”

After a brief moment of laughter, the atmosphere shifted.

We exchanged glances.

A heavier, more serious air filled the room.

“Right.”

What I asked the Defender siblings for—was a status report on the city.

Woo Min-hee had only spoken vaguely about things being “bad.” I still had no concrete information on what was actually going wrong.

“The election?”

Defender started with that, but it was Hong Da-jeong, the more eloquent of the two, who stepped in.

“Surprisingly, it ended quietly. I thought people would take to the plaza at least once, but it just fizzled out. What can you do? The ones who got a seat from the Jeju folks kept their mouths shut and played lapdog. And you know how strong their crews are. They only gave commissioner seats to those with real power backing them.”

A sharp, sardonic smirk crossed Da-jeong’s lips.

“Before the internet went dark, the smear campaigns were wild. If someone posted anything criticizing the election, dozens of random accounts would pop up and spam the thread to bury it.”

“...Really?”

“Yeah. It was gross, honestly. The whole board stank. Like, literal mildew vibes.”

Apparently, the peak of it all happened around the time I ditched Pyo Won-sang’s train and confronted Jeong Dae-kyung.

“Classic playbook,” Defender said with a scoff. “Give the opposition a piece of the pie, turn them into allies.”

“This city’s basically a federation of warlord factions. If most of them support something, that becomes the new ‘truth,’ right?”

Bitter, but probably accurate.

And Seoul’s problems didn’t end there.

“...We’re short on supplies. Turns out Pyo Won-sang took more from the warehouse than reported. And there’s evidence some of the Jeju guys have been embezzling, too.”

Shortage of supplies.

A fate shared by every group in this era.

Without supplies, no organization survives.

Even with tyrannical leaders, a group can function if they can feed and house their people. Even if they’re killing others to stay alive, they can keep going.

But groups without resources—collapse.

The warlord factions that once dominated Yeongnam and Honam? They didn’t fall from infighting. It was lack of supplies.

Just like every patient who visits a hospital for different reasons ultimately dies from cardiac arrest—the cause of death for every group is, in the end, resource depletion.

“The Jeju Committee’s split into major factions now. Pyo’s defection was just one part of it. They’re hoarding supplies for their own entourages. The ten-year reserve stockpile? Gone. Cleaned out by those bastards.”

They say fuel and food are stocked through summer.

The power plant has enough to last until winter.

But tools, gunpowder, batteries—there’s no surplus.

If a factory machine breaks, it has to be repaired by manually machining steel parts.

The most critical shortage is artillery shells. According to Defender’s investigation, all types of shells—except for 105mm howitzer rounds—will be gone within 24 hours of active combat.

There’s a decent stock of 105mm shells, but not enough guns to use them—and worse, shell reserves are mysteriously disappearing in real time.

“They’re still siphoning them off,” Defender said, nodding grimly.

“It’s not just Pyo. Other bastards are betting on this city falling apart.”

We went out into the city with the siblings.

Surprisingly, the city didn’t look bad.

Despite the muggy air, people were busy working, trading, laughing, chatting.

In the shadows, complaints about the government weren’t rare—but there were no obvious signs of collapse.

I don’t want to belittle their optimism, but I do think their bright attitude comes from ignorance—a lack of information.

After a walk around the city, the siblings gave me a quiet tip.

“We’re preparing too. Not openly like them, of course.”

“I see.”

A bitter taste.

To see this city I’d risked my life to protect—now tearing itself apart.

And the one most responsible?

Kang Han-min.

He’s done nothing.

He has the authority and power to unite everyone. But he sits by and lets the schemers in the Jeju Committee play their games.

Lee Haeng-taek’s words echoed in my ears.

His theory: that even the Jeju Committee might be dancing in the palm of Kang Han-min’s hand—kept replaying in my mind.

“......”

I sent someone.

Formally requested a meeting with Kang Han-min. Now I wait.

One way or another, an answer will come soon.

If not—I’ll go to him myself.

“What’s Skelton going to do?”

Da-jeong asked with a faint smile.

“Not sure.”

I couldn’t say.

I hadn’t decided yet.

“For now, I’ll wait until I meet Kang Han-min.”

We headed together toward a place I’d longed for.

My bunker.

My little paradise beneath the mountain.

Cool air from a functioning A/C, light music on the radio—we followed the unmaintained roads toward the home we once lived in.

“Wow. I never realized how destructive nature could be until the war.”

Da-jeong was right.

Nature is brutal.

Around the bunker, vegetation had exploded into a jungle-like tangle. Weeds and trees sprouted up from the earth, choking the ruins and cracking the concrete.

The winter greenhouse we once built was gone—replaced by a carpet of mushrooms and weeds.

Shfff—

I used a machete from the car to slash through the overgrowth and looked around.

Nodded.

Not bad.

The neglect and nature’s power had created a perfect camouflage.

Winter might be a different story—but for now, this was good.

What I was most excited about was the bunker.

I remembered what Ha Tae-hoon had said before he left.

That I’d be shocked.

He wasn’t wrong.

My bunker was a ruin.

Buried in dirt, its entrance doors torn off, the remains hidden under debris and vegetation.

“What the hell... what happened here?”

“Scavengers must’ve hit it while you were away.”

The only thing left—was the central toilet.

Even that was cracked and stained.

But then—

“?”

Something under the toilet.

A faint message, written by hand.

[ To the place I used to live ]

That clean handwriting—Ha Tae-hoon’s.

I immediately left the bunker and headed for the cabin he once used—the one Rebecca built.

Like everything else, it was half-buried in dirt and overgrowth, but there was a sign.

Under the table—an unfamiliar hatch.

Creeeeeeak—

Bringing Defender had been the right call. frёewebηovel.cѳm

The hatch was rusted, took two of us to open.

Beneath—an elevator shaft.

I grabbed a lantern and descended.

A new corridor.

Reinforced concrete.

Ha Tae-hoon’s favorite material. He had built it with care.

At the end—another door.

The second basement of my bunker, where the generator used to be.

When I opened it, my bunker’s heart welcomed me, spotless and unharmed.

Next to the generator room—another unknown door.

My heart pounded as I opened it.

“......”

A perfect bunker.

Built with Ha Tae-hoon’s usual care. Stocked with everything from my old bunker.

Even the electrical systems and his signature surveillance upgrades.

The most moving part?

The central toilet—perfectly recreated.

Even my obsession with interior design hadn’t been overlooked.

On the table—one letter.

I read it.

“The upper level was too well-known, so I scrapped it and built this down here.

I know it’s a hassle with the old entrances sealed, but it’ll be better long term.

I made another septic tank and tweaked the groundwater system.

If anything feels off, you’ll have to fix it yourself—but I figure someone like you can handle that, Professor.”

“Also replaced the old junky sensors with new drone and sentry gun systems.

Instructions and manuals are below.

With gratitude, from your lousy sunbae.”

“......”

I have complicated feelings about Ha Tae-hoon.

There was a time I wanted to kill him—and he probably felt the same.

But human sincerity changes with time and place.

I won’t dwell on our past hatred.

Because the Ha Tae-hoon who built this bunker—was a sunbae I should respect.

I bowed lightly toward the unseen him.

In these days full of ominous signs and foreboding shadows, I now had a place to lay my head.

Thanks to my sunbae.

“What do you think, Skelton? Do you like the new bunker Ha built?”

Da-jeong asked, cautiously.

My expression must’ve been blank the whole time—she probably thought I was upset.

It’s just a habit. Not something I feel the need to fix.

I looked at her and replied.

“Yeah.”

A smile would be enough.

“I like it.”