Free Web NovelI've never traded stocks, but I'm told one of the ways stock trading works is by analyzing chart patterns to decide when to buy or sell.
Of course, a chart is a composite of unpredictable variables beyond human insight—reflecting real-world economics, market psychology, global affairs, even natural disasters.
Just because a chart showed certain trends in the past doesn't guarantee the same will happen in the future.
People may disagree, but they say a true investment master isn't someone who only watches the chart’s fluctuations, but a “value investor” who sees through to the essence of the company and market behind the chart’s slope.
Even without bringing up the legendary investor Warren Buffett, most long-term heavyweights seem to hold similar positions.
In the case of this “Apocalypse” stock, I, Park Gyu, am more of a value investor than a chart analyst.
It’s hard to find someone who understands and analyzes the Rifts and monsters as thoroughly—and agonizingly—as I do.
Others may have put in more total effort, but what matters is the direction.
At the frontlines of this war against monsters, I discovered the right direction with less effort than others, and I pride myself on understanding the flow that this apocalypse would bring better than anyone.
Mocked by juniors, peers, and haters alike, I secluded myself in the countryside, where I had no ties, and built my bunker—but in the end, what came of that decision?
The reason I obsess over Kang Han-min is because he represents my ideal—my life’s goal.
But that goal has grown dimmer and more uncertain with time.
Kang Han-min continues to repeat the same behavior he exhibited after becoming what they call the “Savior.”
Hiding behind his personal guard high up in the clouds, cutting off all external contact under the excuse that he’s “inside a Rift.”
Lee Haeng-taek helped rekindle a dying ember in me, but at some point, I, too, reached an age where I could no longer blindly chase dreams.
It’s not that I’m afraid of death.
I’ve simply found it harder to accept being wasted in a meaningless one.
So I need a Plan B in case things don’t go well.
The inspiration came from Ha Tae-hoon, a man who once shared my vision.
It bruises my pride a bit, but I must admit his construction and engineering skills surpass mine.
While my construction knowledge is based on the sweat-earned experience of a so-called “labor man,” Ha Tae-hoon’s is built on refined academia—English, math, and engineering research.
But everything comes at a cost.
Though it’s true he impressively upgraded my bunker, he also consumed a significant portion of the supplies stored within.
We still have construction vehicles, but the synthetic fuel has been completely depleted. As for food, we’re down to long-shelf-life bricks.
He even scraped through construction materials so cleanly that continued maintenance is near impossible.
A great bunker, but no sustainability.
But what’s gone can be gathered again.
Fortunately, even under its destined collapse, New Seoul still seems to be functioning in a somewhat acceptable shape.
For a collapse-value investor like me, it's a decent environment.
*
“Ah, Commander Park Gyu. Welcome. Please, have a seat. What would you like? Coffee? Tea? Or maybe whiskey?”
The man named Kim So-uk was someone Filkrum had once mentioned to me.
He was the one who had Filkrum draw that semi-biographical comic about the Jeju Committee—an inside joke for their own amusement.
Like other Jeju Committee members, Kim So-uk was younger than me in age, but his appearance made him seem far older.
A bald forehead on the brink of surrender, a thick masculine jaw, and deep nasolabial folds—he bore several traits that added negative value to his looks.
But as a person, he was outgoing and easygoing.
Big voice, big gestures, frequent smiles.
Unlike Pyo Won-sang, he didn’t try to size people up or play mental games.
That doesn’t mean he’s a good guy, though.
“Yes, that's right. There are, well, various problems. Trouble with boosting food production, and those friends who went to Gyeongju ended up embezzling far more than expected, which is concerning. But there's no need to worry. Seoul is safe.”
He’s someone who can be classified as a villain—he has a clear goal and will stop at nothing to achieve it.
According to Defender’s investigation, Kim So-uk is the biggest embezzler among the remaining Jeju Committee members.
He already has a large ship docked in Incheon, prepared to take himself and his cronies away.
No one knows where the ship’s heading, but if anything goes wrong in Seoul, he’ll be the first to flee.
“I see.”
It doesn’t matter.
This city is no longer in my hands.
If asked whether I feel pity for those left behind, I’d say no. But I do recognize the limits of what I can do.
Even if another Nemesis-type monster led a horde here, I wouldn’t fight.
It’d be meaningless.
The enemy’s defining trait is infinity.
Even if I won, another swarm would soon follow.
There’s only one way to solve this.
But Kang Han-min continues to ignore my calls under the excuse of being inside a Rift.
To make matters worse, even Viva! Apocalypse! has practically gone dark, making it even harder to reach him.
Foxgames is supposedly making a new backup site, but there’s no guarantee Kang Han-min will use it.
“I wanted to ask about that project you’re working on lately... What was it? The apartment complex? Yes. That’s what I wanted to discuss.”
In this situation, the only thing I can do is survive as long as possible.
“Ah, you mean River Hillside?”
Kim So-uk smiled meaningfully.
“Yes. That’s the one.”
South Korea has effectively collapsed. The remaining humans barely survive, huddled in ragged groups. And yet, the instinct engraved in Korean DNA doesn’t fade so easily.
One of the strongest instincts is a mystical belief in apartments.
According to my junior, Kim Daram, a new apartment complex is being built along the Han River.
Not the towering 49-story luxury units /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ we had pre-war, nor anything as iconic as The Hope, which made M9 famous, but a modest low-rise complex. Still, it apparently has elevators and a long-lost amenity community facility.
As a great man once said, human satisfaction responds more strongly to relative superiority than absolute.
The Jeju Committee already capitalized on that Korean instinct once—with the lottery and The Hope.
A similar scheme is underway in New Seoul. But this time, fewer people seem suspicious.
Because it’s low-rise, it’s easier to build. The government, with nowhere left to run, is taking responsibility for construction. And most importantly, rumors say high-ranking officials and Citizens’ Committee members hold many of the units. That’s lit a fire in the public’s heart.
In fact, most registered citizens of Seoul have applied for “River Hillside.”
It’s no exaggeration to say everyone who could apply, did.
Kim So-uk is deeply involved in that project.
That’s why, out of all the Jeju Committee members reaching out to me, I chose him.
“The committee members are all similar in power. But Kim So-uk is definitely the richest. He looks decent enough, so a lot of people have clung to him.”
Defender’s advice played a big role in that choice.
And indeed, Kim So-uk turned out to be just as straightforward as the rumors claimed.
“Oh, so Commander Park Gyu is interested too? What an honor. Honestly, your current residence isn’t bad, but someone of your caliber deserves better. I’ll call the manager. You can discuss which unit you prefer.”
He got to the point fast.
As Kim So-uk stepped aside, a young woman introduced as the River Hillside project manager came to handle me.
Wearing glasses and somewhat chubby, she had the same traits as the real estate agents I used to meet when touring bunker construction sites across the country.
“Building 102, Unit 3 is the best. You get a guaranteed view. And the unit you’d be receiving from the chairman—panoramic view, top floor, rooftop terrace...”
I played along just enough and agreed to receive the unit.
Of course, nothing in life is free.
“Ah, Commander. I don’t know if the chairman mentioned this, but there’s a small issue with one of the warehouses under his management.”
“Alright. What kind of issue? Can you give me a detailed report?”
Naturally.
If you receive something, you give something.
The world’s become strange because so many people try to get things for free without following this basic rule.
“...”
I stared at the capsule in front of me.
Today’s job target.
Quietly, I drew my axe and swung it hard at the capsule.
CHANG!
A reflective shield activated.
Which meant this one was secure.
Turning to the nervous warehouse workers and managers behind me, I calmly said:
“This one’s safe. I’ll personally dispose of it somewhere far away.”
The pure-blood Jeju Committee bastard had made a fuss over a single capsule because it was difficult to call in any Hunter-affiliated personnel.
That’s right.
This warehouse held embezzled goods that Kim So-uk planned to smuggle out on his ship.
It was a place filled with the greed of the elites preparing to abandon the city.
Just by removing this capsule, I’d earn a unit in the coveted “K-Apartment” that most of New Seoul’s citizens were dying to get their hands on.
I’d sell it for the resources I lack.
Plenty of buyers.
Especially the newly appointed Citizens’ Committee members—they’re desperate for this listing.
The exact value would be decided through negotiation, but it should be enough to make my bunker a bit more well-stocked.
THUD!
I loaded the capsule into the jeep’s rear and packed some Hunter-grade weapons in the trunk just in case.
CLUNK—
Closed the trunk and glanced around.
Everywhere—empty ruins.
Especially near this warehouse, where the owner had clearly ensured no one else would be around.
That’s probably why the capsule appeared here.
I didn’t bring a companion for this errand.
It might be dangerous, but I’d done capsule disposals often enough during my active commander days—and more importantly, this job was for me and no one else.
Embarrassing as it is, this was for my own selfish gain.
No matter how nicely I dress it up, I’m secretly negotiating with Kim So-uk, handling dirty business, and getting an apartment in return. It’s not something I can proudly claim.
I tell myself it’s a kind of insurance, a protective justification—but who knows.
Maybe deep down, even I wanted to run away from the current situation.
Zzzzt—
The radio crackled.
Who?
Personal ID: ALPHA_ONE
Na Hye-in.
She contacted me once after returning to Seoul, but between her being busy and me having my own matters, we hadn’t had a proper conversation yet.
There were eyes on me here, so I’d talk somewhere else.
I got in the driver’s seat and started the vehicle.
As the capsule clunked in the back, I drove about 5 kilometers away and called her.
“It’s Park Gyu.”
“Park Gyu? Ah! Yeah! Thanks for calling.” freewёbnoνel.com
Still a bit awkward, but her voice sounded more alive than before.
Rest is the best medicine.
After the Nemesis battle, she hadn’t done much, so she must’ve recovered a bit.
“What’s up? Why the sudden call?”
I gave a small laugh and chose my words carefully.
There was a little conflict inside, but no need to delay everything.
Imagining the old comrade who couldn’t possibly be in front of me, I answered:
“Let’s grab a meal.”
“Meal?”
“Yeah. There’s a lot I want to talk about.”
I think I finally deserve to be part of that conversation.
After everything I went through.
Just as I stepped on the gas, thinking of a brighter tomorrow—
“...”
One thing Jang Ki-young taught us as Hunters:
No matter how small the blade, never let it point at you.
No one told me I’d grown complacent—but deep down, I already knew.
Compared to the Professor of the past, I’ve definitely gone soft.
That kind of change isn’t always bad, but—
THUD!
The most important thing is staying alive.
When a shockwave rang out from the cargo bed, I was brutally reminded of that simple truth.
Screeeeech—!
The vehicle came to a forced stop, and I jumped out, turning toward the rear.
“...”
For a brief moment, I felt that unbearable sleepiness I thought I'd banished forever wash over my eyelids.
A monster emerged from the capsule.
Executioner-type.
A new mainline model created by the Rift to exterminate humanity.
Screeeeech—
Crushing the jeep’s rear, it turned its grotesque humanoid head toward me.
In that split second, I calculated my odds.
Not zero.
Somewhere below 0.1%.
I had a pistol and two axes.
If I could close the gap—but the monster was 15 meters away.
It had already locked onto me, pointing what looked like a grotesque, biological shotgun—an evil parody of a human firearm.
The moment it fired, Park Gyu would be erased.
Even so—
Shing—
I drew my axe.
Even if I die, I’ll die in the fight.
At the very least, I’ll go down pretending I struggled.
“...”
All death comes without warning.
Seems I wasn’t exempt from that fate.
As I prepared to take that final step and charge—
Screeeeech—
The vehicle tilted.
The monster’s leg moved.
Groaaaan—
The jeep, which had been pressed down on one side, returned to balance, and I was thrown into confusion.
Executioner-type.
Unlike smaller models, this one actively recognizes and targets humans. It’s now classified as an extinction-level threat.
And now—
Thump. Thump.
It retreated.
Toward Kim So-uk’s warehouse in the distance.
“Park Gyu? Park Gyu? What happened?”
Only then did I register the voice on the radio.
Na Hye-in.
“Hold on. Sorry. I have to contact someone urgently.”
I cut the line and tried to connect with one of Kim So-uk’s men.
As the transmission rang, I recalled the chilling experience that had just happened.
There was no mistake.
That thing... ignored me.
As if I didn’t exist.
