Free Web Novel“Over here.”
“Yes, sir!”
An employee at one of the biggest shoe outlets in the country hurried over to a customer.
The customer was a young man in a suit with no tie and sunglasses, built well enough to look like an athlete. Pointing at two models he had already picked out—performance sneakers and mid-top hiking boots—he said,
“Can I try these on?”
“Oh, of course you can.”
Even if it was only one pair of shoes, customers who wanted to try on every candidate and compare them like this were not all that rare, so the employee responded politely.
The young customer slipped on the shoes and checked them carefully, lightly hopping in place and pressing the soles hard against the floor to test the grip.
Ah, those are seriously expensive...
But since every pair he had chosen was a high-end outdoor product, the employee could do nothing but anxiously watch, even when he handled them a little roughly.
After checking one pair of high-end Korean hiking boots and two pairs of imported outdoor shoes, the young customer smiled.
“I like all of them.”
“Ah, is that so? Then just tell me your size first, and if you want to look around a little more—”
“I’ll take all three models. From size 225 to 290, thirty pairs each.”
“...Pardon?”
“No, wait. From 235 to 275, make it one hundred pairs each. Mix the colors, just keep them from being too flashy. Why? Are you short on stock?”
“N-no, not at all! We have them, we do.”
At the arrival of what was easily the biggest customer since opening day, the employee’s face flushed bright red.
Soon several other employees came out, along with the store owner himself, to attend to the young customer.
The young customer, Junho, politely declined the snacks and drinks they offered him and only asked that everything be packed quickly and securely and loaded onto the truck.
“I bought a lot, so give me a discount, all right?”
“Oh, of course. Fifteen percent—no, we’ll make it twenty. And we’ll throw in some unisex sandal slippers as a complimentary gift.”
The economy was already awful.
And these days, people came to outlets, tried things on once just to check the fit, then went home and bought them cheaper online.
So in times like this, a giant customer who had dropped out of the sky like a miracle—
Why he was buying that many shoes of three different types in that many sizes, how much the discount would cut into the net profit—
The owner did not ask or care. He just kept smiling brightly.
“You take cash, right?”
“Of coooourse we do!”
It was a large outlet where prices were already low to begin with, but even after a twenty-percent discount, the total sale shot well past 200 million won in one go.
Five or six employees were mobilized to check colors and sizes, repack everything by box, and haul it out.
Nearly twenty minutes later, all the shoes had been loaded.
“Thank you, sir! Drive safe!”
“Thank you, sir!”
With the owner and employees all rushing out into the parking lot and bowing ninety degrees at the departing truck, the scene became the kind of thing that might go down as local legend for that outlet.
And similar things happened all across the country over the next three months.
***
At famous cattle markets and meat markets in the provinces, and seafood markets.
At poultry farms, chicken-processing plants, seed companies, grain mills, liquor wholesalers, and multiple big-box stores.
At full-line food canning factories and freeze-dried food manufacturers that handled everything from vegetables to meat to convenience foods.
At factories producing every kind of fermented paste, companies making rice polishers and flour mills, manufacturers specializing in tofu machines, bean-sprout cultivators, salting systems, and smoking equipment.
At manufacturers of functional workwear made with expensive Gore-Tex and Kevlar fabrics, and massive wholesale clothing distributors.
At companies dealing in ballistic gear such as armor plates, helmets, and goggles, and firms specializing in radios and earpieces.
At importers of every kind of survival and tactical gear, including knives, flashlights, detachable pouches, first-aid kits, water-purification filters, and purification tablets.
At large pharmacies and specialist safety-equipment companies that also handled dust masks, gas masks, fireproof suits, heat-resistant suits, and gas detectors.
At companies specializing in concrete additives, mortar, waterproofing materials, and coating compounds.
At suppliers of special lumber, special steel, aluminum, comprehensive metal materials including standard bolts and nuts, and manufacturers specializing in petroleum-based plastics of every kind.
At companies handling electric wire, cable, and fuses, and authorized distributors for imported high-performance CCTV cameras, VMU/DHS systems, and IoT sensors.
At general appliance distributors, machinery and equipment wholesalers, and firms specializing in solar-power equipment.
At factories producing everything from mattresses to sleeping bags, and plants making soap, solid shampoo, and solid detergent.
At factories producing towels, hygienic gloves, and masks, companies handling every kind of kitchenware from dishes to cooking tools, and manufacturers of sewing tools and both manual and automatic sewing machines.
At distributors of imported ready-made drones, modular drone-solution firms, and general distributors that also handled all kinds of motors, portable chargers, and power tanks.
At bicycle distributors, makers of multipurpose electric carts, importers and manufacturers of electric tractors and electric excavators, and large used-car lots.
At dry and wet animal-feed plants, fertilizer factories, and briquette plants.
And on top of that, at stationery stores about to go out of business, DVD-and-novel-and-comic rental shops, even PC cafés, game specialty shops, and board-game cafés.
Companies all across the country that produced or handled the countless goods and materials modern people absolutely needed—or enjoyed without even realizing it—
were visited by a young customer in a neat suit and sunglasses, accompanied by trucks, who paid the full amount in cash on the spot.
This massive shopping spree—or money-burning session—that went on for about three months, from a few million won at the low end to amounts in the billions at the high end,
ended after scattering a total of 19.2 billion won all across the country.
As a side note, a small-to-mid-sized IT company in Pangyo called Dawoo Computing let out screams of joy after receiving a 2.6 billion won purchasing order to procure AI computing and server equipment—the single biggest order of all.
And all of those countless goods were moved one after another to a warehouse in Yangpyeong, Gyeonggi Province.
Then, except for a small portion of them, most were repackaged using a vacuum-seal-plus-oxygen-absorber-plus-moisture-remover-plus-special airtight container method, and quietly transported late at night, after midnight, to a certain location in Namyangju.
***
“Bleugh! Ugh...”
“The hell? Why’re you like that?”
Seeing Junhyeok suddenly start gagging in the middle of hauling airtight containers into the ultra-low-temperature freezer warehouse, Baek Hail asked.
“Ah, he went to a slaughterhouse today.”
Wearing insulated work clothes and silently carrying airtight containers filled with frozen fish and seafood, Junho dusted off his hands and answered.
“A slaughterhouse? The kind where they kill cattle and pigs? Why the hell’d he go there?”
“He needs to get used to killing. And to the sight of blood and meat.”
“Ah....”
The startled look on Baek Hail’s face quickly shifted into something bitter.
Because by now, he knew what kind of work Junho and Junhyeok would mostly be doing once the apocalypse started.
Guessing what Baek Hail was thinking, Junho smiled faintly and changed the subject.
“Anyway, how are the guns? Are they usable?”
“Oh, yeah. They look a little different, but performance comes out at over ninety percent. I test-fired five hundred rounds through the air rifle and a hundred through the KP9, then scanned them—no cracks, nothing. They looked perfectly fine. Should hold up for at least two or three thousand rounds.”
Baek Hail had succeeded in producing cloned copies of the air rifle and the KP9.
Those two alone would be more than enough through the early and middle stages of the apocalypse, and anyway, considering the firepower and risk involved, it was better if only Junho and Junhyeok used the AR-15s.
So Baek Hail first made twenty cloned air rifles and five cloned KP9s, then thoroughly hid them away along with separately duplicated spare parts.
The air rifles were meant to be mounted, the moment the apocalypse began, on ground drones modified from the children’s electric carts they had already prepared.
And they would also be mounted on shelter-defense turrets built using large motors and modular drone parts.
Because it would have made no sense for Yoon Youngsu—who had built and run something similar before the regression using only a personal workstation—not to be able to do it now with an AI computing system they had poured more than 5 billion won into.
“Then what about the newly built warehouse and the chicken coop? No issues? We did throw those together kind of fast.”
“No problems at all. The chicken coop’s easy—we’re only keeping fifty laying hens anyway. And the warehouse is fine too. We’re only storing stuff that isn’t heavily affected by temperature. As long as we control humidity, there’s no issue. We covered it well with earth, so even in summer the interior temperature won’t rise much. It’ll hold up just fine for ten years or more.”
To keep sturdy laying hens that would produce only unfertilized eggs, and because the variety and quantity of supplies had grown even more than expected, Junho had no choice but to build two additional warehouses at the shelter.
Fortunately, since they were for storing fertilizer, metal materials, plastics, and vinyl products, even if the insulation performance was a little lacking, there would be no issue as long as humidity was managed.
“What about the laborers?”
“Just like you said, I picked only foreign workers who’d worked for me before. But, Hoya... you sure it’s okay to do that to them?”
At Baek Hail’s cautious question, Junho nodded with a bitter expression.
“It’s better for them too. The foreign tourists and workers I saw before... every last one of them wanted to go back to their families at home.”
As befitted the capital region of an advanced country like Korea, Seoul and the greater metropolitan area were full of foreign tourists, international students, and laborers.
A lot of those foreigners who got caught in the apocalypse far from home died or turned into zombies, but some of them survived.
And every foreigner Junho had seen and gone through things with—unless they had built a family in Korea—had, without exception, longed for the family they had left behind in their home country.
“I bought round-trip tickets in their own names, tickets that force them to leave on August 13 no matter what. So they’ll probably all go home. Anyway, that’s better for them, and better for us too, brother.”
This was exactly why Junho had intentionally increased the proportion of foreign laborers from the moment the shelter construction began.
Especially for this additional warehouse project, every laborer had been selected from among foreign workers who had families back in their home countries.
And under the pretext of giving them a bonus, he gifted each of them a round-trip plane ticket so they could return home right before the apocalypse began.
The foreign workers benefited because, whether they lived or died, they would at least be with their families.
And this side benefited because it prevented any chance of them showing up at the shelter after the apocalypse started.
“Yeah. If it were me in some foreign country, I’d go see my kids too. Anyway, Woorim says they’ll follow your instructions to the letter. If it’s Director Park, you can trust him.”
“Yes.”
If it was Park Chanyeong, head of Woorim Engineering Design Office, then he would absolutely carry out the special requests of Junho, his biggest client by far.
He would think there might be another contract of this scale in the future if he did.
Of course, the world was about to become one where he would not be able to, even if he wanted to.
“But, Hoya.”
“Yes?”
“Youngsu, I mean. Did that guy really cut ties with his family?”
It seemed Baek Hail could not help worrying about Yoon Youngsu, the shut-in wreck who barely ever left his own studio apartment that doubled as the shelter’s AI control center, and who showed absolutely no interest at all in how the pension was run or whether guests came or not.
“He probably did. I asked him once in passing before.”
“What’d he say?”
“I asked who he’d go looking for first if something like a nuclear war broke out. If he’d at least try to find family. And he said....”
Back then, Yoon Youngsu had twisted his face up and said,
that his parents were the people he hated most in the world.
That from the very day he entered college until now, he had never once seen them in person, let alone contacted them.
And that he was incredibly happy about that.
“I don’t know about his older brother and sister, but they’re probably the same. Both got married ages ago and live overseas, so there’s not much he could do anyway.”
“I see... then that’s that. Nothing to be done.”
“Yes. By the way, brother, did you talk to Ms. Sua and Suho properly?”
Those two were the most important people in the world to Baek Hail.
So Junho had built the scenario as naturally as possible, one where those two would be staying at Our Shelter—no, at Our Pension—when the apocalypse hit.
“Yeah. They’re doing a five-night, six-day family trip through Gyeonggi and Gangwon, and I know they’re staying at Our Pension on the second night. I also told them to pack whatever they thought they might need.”
“You did well.”
If it was a trip that lasted nearly a week, there was a good chance they would pack a lot of the personal things they used often or cared about.
Of course, everything needed for survival was already prepared here, but for a person’s mental stability, it made a huge difference whether they had familiar personal belongings or cherished items with them.
“But, brother.”
“Yeah?”
“You’re not just planning to bring in Ms. Sua and Suho, right? Did you talk to her too?”
“Ah, that?”
During the time they had lived together before the regression, Baek Hail’s top priority had been his son and daughter.
But every now and then, even he would talk about someone else.
Even Baek Hail, who had lived alone as a widower for over ten years, had a woman he had secretly cared about.
“I already talked to Sky. She’s got to work around her part-timers’ schedules, so she said she’d give me an answer before August. But she’s coming for sure.”
Choi Haneul, a divorced woman in her late thirties, was the owner of the neighborhood bar Baek Hail frequented.
Haneul—“Sky”—was her real name. He said that the nun at the orphanage where she had been abandoned as a baby had given it to her because she smiled so lightly and brightly.
With her orphanage background and her lack of a partner resembling his own situation, and with her naturally cheerful personality and strong survival instincts, Baek Hail said he had liked her for years.
And when Junho had gone down to Busan with him before and visited the bar in person, the result had been obvious: it was not one-sided.
No, anyone could see they were blatantly into each other.
So Junho’s conclusion was that if the apocalypse had not happened, they probably would have started dating officially this year and maybe even remarried.
That was why he had decided to accept Choi Haneul as a shelter member.
He needed to do it for Baek Hail’s mental stability, yes—but there was actually another important reason too.
“By the way, Haneul really is an amazing cook.”
“Right? Right? Our Haneul’s got a chef’s license, and she used to work at a big restaurant and even a tourist hotel.”
At the sight of Baek Hail looking proud as if it were his own accomplishment, Junho smiled a little.
But what he had just said was sincere.
The stir-fried squid and spicy stir-fried chicken Choi Haneul had specially made for him that day at the bar, calling him “our Hail’s close little brother,” had been absolutely incredible.
In other words, Choi Haneul—with her excellent cooking skills—was exactly the kind of talent their shelter needed, since its goal was for people to live as much like actual human beings as possible, no different from the “peaceful era.”
“Anyway, not just Haneul. There are a few more people we’re going to need.”
“Right. We need a doctor too, and probably wouldn’t hurt to have one or two more people with technical skills.”
“Don’t worry about the doctor.”
“Oh? You’ve got a candidate?”
Junho nodded.
“Yes. But I can recruit them after the apocalypse starts. Before that, we need to leave them alone.”
“Really? Hm....”
Baek Hail tilted his head.
To him, it seemed far better to bring them in before things started.
But Junho trusted his plan.
Up to now, he had almost obsessively avoided stopping by Gahyeon-ri or making contact with the people there.
Junhyeok had signed the safe-house lease, and after the soundproofing work was done, Baek Hail had gone there at night to install the CCTV and generators.
Junho had been afraid that if he himself directly intervened in Gahyeon-ri, it might somehow alter the fates of the people living there now—the very survivors who would still be alive after the apocalypse began.
Which meant that if the apocalypse started on schedule, and the same people who had survived before the regression survived again and formed the same groups and circles as before—
If I hit the timing right, I can bring that doctor couple into the shelter naturally.
Junho fully intended to make active use of the regressor’s advantage—knowing the future.
“All right, all right. There’s not much time left, so let’s work. Hey, Lee Junhyeok. Move it, move it.”
“Urrrgh... all riiight....”
Scolding Junhyeok, who was already dragging himself around and making zombie noises even though the apocalypse had not even come yet, Junho picked up three or four airtight containers at a time and kept hauling them.
***
“Bleugh! Ugh...”
“The hell? Why’re you like that?”
Seeing Junhyeok suddenly start gagging in the middle of hauling airtight containers into the ultra-low-temperature freezer warehouse, Baek Hail asked.
“Ah, he went to a slaughterhouse today.”
Wearing insulated work clothes and silently carrying airtight containers filled with frozen fish and seafood, Junho dusted off his hands and answered.
“A slaughterhouse? The kind where they kill cattle and pigs? Why the hell’d he go there?”
“He needs to get used to killing. And to the sight of blood and meat.”
“Ah....”
The startled look on Baek Hail’s face quickly shifted into something bitter.
Because by now, he knew what kind of work Junho and Junhyeok would mostly be doing once the apocalypse started.
Guessing what Baek Hail was thinking, Junho smiled faintly and changed the subject.
“Anyway, how are the guns? Are they usable?”
“Oh, yeah. They look a little different, but performance comes out at over ninety percent. I test-fired five hundred rounds through the air rifle and a hundred through the KP9, then scanned them—no cracks, nothing. They looked perfectly fine. Should hold up for at least two or three thousand rounds.”
Baek Hail had succeeded in producing cloned copies of the air rifle and the KP9.
Those two alone would be more than enough through the early and middle stages of the apocalypse, and anyway, considering the firepower and risk involved, it was better if only Junho and Junhyeok used the AR-15s.
So Baek Hail first made twenty cloned air rifles and five cloned KP9s, then thoroughly hid them away along with separately duplicated spare parts.
The air rifles were meant to be mounted, the moment the apocalypse began, on ground drones modified from the children’s electric carts they had already prepared.
And they would also be mounted on shelter-defense turrets built using large motors and modular drone parts.
Because it would have made no sense for Yoon Youngsu—who had built and run something similar before the regression using only a personal workstation—not to be able to do it now with an AI computing system they had poured more than 5 billion won into.
“Then what about the newly built warehouse and the chicken coop? No issues? We did throw those together kind of fast.”
“No problems at all. The chicken coop’s easy—we’re only keeping fifty laying hens anyway. And the warehouse is fine too. We’re only storing stuff that isn’t heavily affected by temperature. As long as we control humidity, there’s no issue. We covered it well with earth, so even in summer the interior temperature won’t rise much. It’ll hold up just fine for ten years or more.”
To keep sturdy laying hens that would produce only unfertilized eggs, and because the variety and quantity of supplies had grown even more than expected, Junho had no choice but to build two additional warehouses at the shelter.
Fortunately, since they were for storing fertilizer, metal materials, plastics, and vinyl products, even if the insulation performance was a little lacking, there would be no issue as long as humidity was managed.
“What about the laborers?”
“Just like you said, I picked only foreign workers who’d worked for me before. But, Hoya... you sure it’s okay to do that to them?”
At Baek Hail’s cautious question, Junho nodded with a bitter expression.
“It’s better for them too. The foreign tourists and workers I saw before... every last one of them wanted to go back to their families at home.”
As befitted the capital region of an advanced country like Korea, Seoul and the greater metropolitan area were full of foreign tourists, international students, and laborers.
A lot of those foreigners who got caught in the apocalypse far from home died or turned into zombies, but some of them survived.
And every foreigner Junho had seen and gone through things with—unless they had built a family in Korea—had, without exception, longed for the family they had left behind in their home country.
“I bought round-trip tickets in their own names, tickets that force them to leave on August 13 no matter what. So they’ll probably all go home. Anyway, that’s better for them, and better for us too, brother.”
This was exactly why Junho had intentionally increased the proportion of foreign laborers from the moment the shelter construction began.
Especially for this additional warehouse project, every laborer had been selected from among foreign workers who had families back in their home countries. fгeewёbnoѵel.cσm
And under the pretext of giving them a bonus, he gifted each of them a round-trip plane ticket so they could return home right before the apocalypse began.
The foreign workers benefited because, whether they lived or died, they would at least be with their families.
And this side benefited because it prevented any chance of them showing up at the shelter after the apocalypse started.
“Yeah. If it were me in some foreign country, I’d go see my kids too. Anyway, Woorim says they’ll follow your instructions to the letter. If it’s Director Park, you can trust him.”
“Yes.”
If it was Park Chanyeong, head of Woorim Engineering Design Office, then he would absolutely carry out the special requests of Junho, his biggest client by far.
He would think there might be another contract of this scale in the future if he did.
Of course, the world was about to become one where he would not be able to, even if he wanted to.
“But, Hoya.”
“Yes?”
“Youngsu, I mean. Did that guy really cut ties with his family?”
It seemed Baek Hail could not help worrying about Yoon Youngsu, the shut-in wreck who barely ever left his own studio apartment that doubled as the shelter’s AI control center, and who showed absolutely no interest at all in how the pension was run or whether guests came or not.
“He probably did. I asked him once in passing before.”
“What’d he say?”
“I asked who he’d go looking for first if something like a nuclear war broke out. If he’d at least try to find family. And he said....”
Back then, Yoon Youngsu had twisted his face up and said,
that his parents were the people he hated most in the world.
That from the very day he entered college until now, he had never once seen them in person, let alone contacted them.
And that he was incredibly happy about that.
“I don’t know about his older brother and sister, but they’re probably the same. Both got married ages ago and live overseas, so there’s not much he could do anyway.”
“I see... then that’s that. Nothing to be done.”
“Yes. By the way, brother, did you talk to Ms. Sua and Suho properly?”
Those two were the most important people in the world to Baek Hail.
So Junho had built the scenario as naturally as possible, one where those two would be staying at Our Shelter—no, at Our Pension—when the apocalypse hit.
“Yeah. They’re doing a five-night, six-day family trip through Gyeonggi and Gangwon, and I know they’re staying at Our Pension on the second night. I also told them to pack whatever they thought they might need.”
“You did well.”
If it was a trip that lasted nearly a week, there was a good chance they would pack a lot of the personal things they used often or cared about.
Of course, everything needed for survival was already prepared here, but for a person’s mental stability, it made a huge difference whether they had familiar personal belongings or cherished items with them.
“But, brother.”
“Yeah?”
“You’re not just planning to bring in Ms. Sua and Suho, right? Did you talk to her too?”
“Ah, that?”
During the time they had lived together before the regression, Baek Hail’s top priority had been his son and daughter.
But every now and then, even he would talk about someone else.
Even Baek Hail, who had lived alone as a widower for over ten years, had a woman he had secretly cared about.
“I already talked to Sky. She’s got to work around her part-timers’ schedules, so she said she’d give me an answer before August. But she’s coming for sure.”
Choi Haneul, a divorced woman in her late thirties, was the owner of the neighborhood bar Baek Hail frequented.
Haneul—“Sky”—was her real name. He said that the nun at the orphanage where she had been abandoned as a baby had given it to her because she smiled so lightly and brightly.
With her orphanage background and her lack of a partner resembling his own situation, and with her naturally cheerful personality and strong survival instincts, Baek Hail said he had liked her for years.
And when Junho had gone down to Busan with him before and visited the bar in person, the result had been obvious: it was not one-sided.
No, anyone could see they were blatantly into each other.
So Junho’s conclusion was that if the apocalypse had not happened, they probably would have started dating officially this year and maybe even remarried.
That was why he had decided to accept Choi Haneul as a shelter member.
He needed to do it for Baek Hail’s mental stability, yes—but there was actually another important reason too.
“By the way, Haneul really is an amazing cook.”
“Right? Right? Our Haneul’s got a chef’s license, and she used to work at a big restaurant and even a tourist hotel.”
At the sight of Baek Hail looking proud as if it were his own accomplishment, Junho smiled a little.
But what he had just said was sincere.
The stir-fried squid and spicy stir-fried chicken Choi Haneul had specially made for him that day at the bar, calling him “our Hail’s close little brother,” had been absolutely incredible.
In other words, Choi Haneul—with her excellent cooking skills—was exactly the kind of talent their shelter needed, since its goal was for people to live as much like actual human beings as possible, no different from the “peaceful era.”
“Anyway, not just Haneul. There are a few more people we’re going to need.”
“Right. We need a doctor too, and probably wouldn’t hurt to have one or two more people with technical skills.”
“Don’t worry about the doctor.”
“Oh? You’ve got a candidate?”
Junho nodded.
“Yes. But I can recruit them after the apocalypse starts. Before that, we need to leave them alone.”
“Really? Hm....”
Baek Hail tilted his head.
To him, it seemed far better to bring them in before things started.
But Junho trusted his plan.
Up to now, he had almost obsessively avoided stopping by Gahyeon-ri or making contact with the people there.
Junhyeok had signed the safe-house lease, and after the soundproofing work was done, Baek Hail had gone there at night to install the CCTV and generators.
Junho had been afraid that if he himself directly intervened in Gahyeon-ri, it might somehow alter the fates of the people living there now—the very survivors who would still be alive after the apocalypse began.
Which meant that if the apocalypse started on schedule, and the same people who had survived before the regression survived again and formed the same groups and circles as before—
If I hit the timing right, I can bring that doctor couple into the shelter naturally.
Junho fully intended to make active use of the regressor’s advantage—knowing the future.
“All right, all right. There’s not much time left, so let’s work. Hey, Lee Junhyeok. Move it, move it.”
“Urrrgh... all riiight....”
Scolding Junhyeok, who was already dragging himself around and making zombie noises even though the apocalypse had not even come yet, Junho picked up three or four airtight containers at a time and kept hauling them.
***
Time passed quickly.
And at last, August came—the month with the apocalypse right in front of it.
A few days before August 16, the day Baek Suho—recently discharged from the military—Baek Sua, now in her fifth year of pharmacy school and busy with clinical rotations, and Choi Haneul, who would survive alongside Baek Hail in the changed future, were all supposed to come to Our Shelter—and the D-Day of the end of the world—
Junho went out one last time.
He made his final checks on the arrangements that would help the very few people, including Choi Hyunwoo, survive.
He went to the Bucheon house, made it look even more like an abandoned ruin, and thoroughly checked the basement one last time as well.
After that, Junho called Kang Baekho and confirmed that, just like before the regression, he would be tied up at Kangho Resort in Gwangju for the entire holiday period.
He also confirmed that Lee Dongcheol would be going to Jeju with his family for a holiday during the long weekend.
And he confirmed that Viktor Volk Choi had gone to the Vladivostok headquarters to report that he had dealt with the “traitors.”
And then...
The day that would drag nearly every country in the world into hell was finally only one day away.
24 hours.
