Hiding a House in the Apocalypse-Chapter 128.2: The Tower (2)

Running into people in the apocalypse was never a good thing.

As long as you had a gun, killing another person no longer carried the fear of legal repercussions or much of a moral burden. That was the kind of world we lived in now.

The more people you encountered, the higher the risk.

But what if there were too many people?

How would you even begin to assess that?

Under the shadow of The Hope, the last luxury district of Korea, a massive crowd had gathered—so large it was visible from a distance.

Cheon Young-jae, who had gone ahead as a scout, returned with accurate information.

"They're the people who came to Seoul with Kim Byeong-cheol back then and ended up staying."

During his ambitious operation to reclaim Seoul, Kim Byeong-cheol had lured refugees from Incheon to the capital with sweet promises.

When his regime collapsed, those who had gathered in Seoul were scattered, but a large number still chose to remain.

"This is where I was born and raised. There's no point running somewhere else."

"My hometown is just across the river, so I'd rather stay as close to it as possible."

"If I’m going to die, I’d rather die in Seoul. I don’t want to see some unfamiliar place."

After the fall of Kim Byeong-cheol’s regime, the remaining population had fractured into small groups, spread throughout the city.

Then, a single event caused them all to converge in one place.

"That leaning apartment over there—what was its name again? I remember people calling it the 'Leaning Tower of Pizza.' Anyway, they say the government hid supplies underneath it."

"They claim there's enough to feed a million people. How could we not come? It’s not like this country can dig up oil from the ground."

"I don't know... but everyone else is going, so we might as well go, too. We’ve got nothing to lose. If there's even a scrap of food, we should take it."

Despite the presence of so many different groups, conflicts hadn’t broken out.

That was because there was a mediating force.

Armed men in military uniforms stood watch, monitoring the surroundings.

Their rank insignias were removed, and their unit patches were covered with tape, but it wasn’t hard to tell they were trained soldiers.

The way they were positioned, the condition of their weapons, their efficient communication, the way they moved under a unified chain of command—

There was no need to overcomplicate things. Calling them "soldiers" was by far the simplest and most convincing explanation.

"You there, in the truck! Move your vehicle this way. There’s no room over there."

The soldiers weren’t particularly wary of us, nor did they show hostility.

No one had officially given them authority, yet they acted as if they were in charge of the area.

"They smell like the Legion faction," Defender muttered beside me, eyeing the soldiers carefully.

"One hundred percent. It reeks of them," Hong Da-jeong chimed in from the back of the truck.

And just like that, we inadvertently found ourselves absorbed into the small society that had suddenly formed around The Hope.

At the makeshift parking lot where vehicles were lined up, we had a chance to talk to others who had arrived in similar trucks.

"...Came because of the broadcast."

In times like these, a cheap cigarette was all it took to earn someone’s goodwill.

A man around my age—though he looked at least ten years older—began recounting his experience, his words rambling and disorganized.

"It wasn’t a radio broadcast. It was a truck with loudspeakers, driving around, saying something was hidden under that apartment."

He took a final drag of his cigarette, exhaling the ashy smoke through both his nose and mouth before continuing.

"At first, no one believed it. I mean, what kind of nonsense is that? Out of nowhere, someone claims there's enough supplies to feed a million people buried under that place? Who would buy that? But, y'know, people are like that. If other people go, you start wanting to go too. The kicker was when someone who went there radioed back, saying they were handing out free nutrition bars."

Mass psychology, chronic shortages, the promise of food—all of these played a role in drawing the crowd.

But those weren’t the only reasons they had gathered.

At any moment, people could choose to leave.

Yet, none of them had.

"Who knows? Maybe there really is enough food in there to keep us alive."

"If this winter is as bad as last year’s, we won’t survive. There’s no firewood here, and I’m not leaving Seoul."

"It’s just... something to believe in. What else can we do? Let’s just believe there’s something in there that’ll save us."

These people wanted to believe in that leaning tower—the one Mgu lived in.

Not as a religious icon, but because believing in it meant believing that their choices weren’t wrong.

The topic shifted from the tower itself to the soldiers guarding it.

"Those soldiers?" The man scowled. freewēbnoveℓ.com

"Well, isn’t it nice to have someone standing watch when this many people gather? Annoying as it is, it’s still convenient."

Another man added that the soldiers were indeed part of the Legion faction, just as we suspected.

But the Legion faction was an old organization.

No one knew whose command these soldiers were currently following.

That mystery, which seemed impossible to unravel, was solved in an almost ridiculous way.

"Wait... isn’t that Kim Byeong-cheol?"

It happened when Defender and I were heading to the food distribution area.

Among the soldiers handing out nutrition bars, one man stood out, his face concealed behind a mask and sunglasses.

Despite the disguise, he had all the distinctive features of Kim Byeong-cheol—traits I had personally experienced before.

"Looks like him."

But the real confirmation came from the person standing beside him.

A teenage girl, who bore an unmistakable resemblance to Kim Byeong-cheol, was smiling brightly as she handed out food.

"That’s his daughter," Defender said with certainty.

"Kim Byeong-cheol's daughter?"

Now that I thought about it, there had been someone using his Viva! Apocalypse! account.

Her name was Ye-rim, if I remembered correctly.

It was a brief encounter, but I remembered her vividly—unlike the others in our forum, she had an undeniable spark of life.

"Yeah. He used to bring her around sometimes, so I recognize her. There’s no doubt about it. These soldiers, this organization—it’s all Kim Byeong-cheol’s."

"I see."

That made the most sense.

When his main base was destroyed, no one had confirmed whether he had survived.

Most assumed he was dead.

But apparently, Kim Byeong-cheol had lived.

Without his original base in Wonju, there weren’t many places he could go.

The areas surrounding Wonju—and to the east—belonged to his old Legion faction rivals, the ones who had deposed him.

A king exiled from his throne had nowhere left to go but the wasteland.

And it seemed Kim Byeong-cheol had chosen Seoul—the wasteland he had once sought to reclaim—as his new stronghold.

It was no coincidence that he had chosen this moment to reappear.

The hidden government stash could be the key to his resurgence.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

More importantly, Kim Byeong-cheol had once used the Viva! Apocalypse! username armeegruppe_B.

He had probably learned about this opportunity through Mgu’s broadcasts and posts.

But why had he gathered so many people?

Was he trying to create a human shield?

Preparing for a possible attack from rival Legion factions?

Or was he planning to slay the "dragon" guarding the government stash himself and use these thousands of people as witnesses to his coronation?

Whatever the reason, Kim Byeong-cheol—the man who had seemingly vanished from the stage—was back in front of us.

"Excuse me," a heavily armed soldier approached us.

Behind him, Kim Byeong-cheol, still wearing his mask and sunglasses, stole occasional glances in our direction.

"Are you Park Gyu, the hunter?"

I looked past the soldier and met Kim Byeong-cheol’s gaze.

Then, I gave him a slight nod.

*

"I didn’t expect to meet you."

Kim Byeong-cheol's camp was set up in the underground parking lot of The Hope.

Rows of military vehicles, makeshift cars, and crudely modified trucks lined the area, while armed soldiers and automated sentry guns formed a tight perimeter around them.

I hadn’t anticipated running into Kim Byeong-cheol, but the moment I saw the sheer number of people gathered around The Hope—and the soldiers controlling them—I decided it was something I had to do.

In fact, it might even work in my favor.

As long as Kim Byeong-cheol and I didn’t have conflicting goals, we might be able to coexist in a mutually beneficial arrangement.

I got straight to the point.

"Ah, this vehicle," he mused. "You want to use this vehicle, is that it?"

"To be precise, we want to operate it for three days. After that, you can keep it or hand it off to someone else—it’s up to you."

I was confident the deal would go through.

After all, we were asking for very little.

In exchange for the help of a professional hunter group, all he had to do was lend us some equipment for three days.

From his perspective, it was a deal without any downside.

But when Kim Byeong-cheol removed his mask and sunglasses, I had a bad feeling that things wouldn’t go as smoothly as I had hoped.

It wasn’t just the grotesque scars and the visible marks of loss on his face.

The internal conflicts within the Legion faction had stripped him of any universal concept of trust.

He moved his half-ruined lips and asked in a cold tone, "Can I ask why you’re making this request?"

There was no reason to hide it.

I told him my true intentions.

"Necropolis?"

Kim Byeong-cheol raised an eyebrow.

He had no idea what I was talking about.

Well, that made sense. Older men like him tended to be indifferent to topics that didn’t personally interest them.

"You’re seriously willing to work with us for something like that?"

I nodded.

A twisted smile spread across his face.

"Fine, then. Give it a try."

It wasn’t exactly the warmest response.

But it was better than outright rejection.

"You do realize that the thing blocking our way isn’t a monster, right?"

"I brought an expert."

"An expert?"

"Yes. Someone skilled with drones."

Kim Byeong-cheol tilted his head slightly.

"Alright, then. But don’t take too long. We have our own specialists as well."

He raised three fingers.

"You have three days."

Even if he had wanted to propose a longer timeframe, he physically couldn’t.

Because he only had three fingers left.

Regardless, the negotiation was settled—albeit imperfectly.

Three days might not seem like much, but it was a precious opportunity to avoid unnecessary battles with humans.

More than that, it seemed Kim Byeong-cheol had a sharp eye.

"The person you’re traveling with."

He was referring to Defender.

"That guy. The one the fanatics have a bounty on, right?"

Just as Defender had recognized him, Kim Byeong-cheol had recognized Defender without any difficulty.

I nodded.

"You’d better keep him locked inside the truck."

Kim Byeong-cheol put his mask and sunglasses back on before adding,

"People don’t just remember faces. They remember everything—gestures, posture, the way someone moves. A face is just one of many identifiers."

That was a warning worth taking seriously.

Defender didn’t belong in crowded places.

As our negotiations concluded and we headed back to our truck, I heard light footsteps behind me.

"Excuse me!"

I turned around to see Kim Byeong-cheol’s daughter.

Ye-rim, if I remembered correctly.

She definitely took after him.

The deep-set eyes, the sharp, stubborn nose.

That kind of face—the kind that looked like it followed every rule to the letter—was what people usually called strict.

But /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ what could Kim Byeong-cheol’s daughter possibly want with me?

As I watched her, she hesitated, fidgeting nervously before finally mustering the courage to speak.

"Are you... Skelton?!"

What?

She knew me?

I supposed that made sense.

Kim Byeong-cheol knew my identity, so if he had told his daughter, it wouldn’t be strange for her to recognize me.

After all, she had used his Viva! Apocalypse! account.

Kim Byeong-cheol’s daughter was also a user of Viva! Apocalypse!, even if she had borrowed her father’s account.

I looked at her and confidently nodded.

"Yeah. I’m Skelton."

"Whoa..."

"Huh?"

She looked awestruck.

A strange feeling of expectation stirred within me.

Could it be...?

Did I have a fan?

Not as TwelveSquare, but as Skelton?

Thinking back, I supposed I had a pretty solid track record as a forum user.

I never treated it like a personal diary, never went out of my way to criticize others.

I always tried to make the forum an enjoyable place, sharing useful information, and keeping a respectable post-to-comment ratio of 1:3.

Maintaining that balance required dedication.

With quiet pride, I waited for Ye-rim’s next words.

Then she bluntly asked,

"You look totally normal in person. Why do you act like that online?"

"...Huh?"

"Where the hell did you even learn stuff like ‘Skelton Bewildered’ and ‘Skelton Advice’? No one around me talks like that. Not a single person!"

For a split second, I felt a mix of disappointment and outrage.

But those emotions were quickly overshadowed by something else—pity.

She didn’t know.

She didn’t know about John_Naenon.

"The legendary figure of our forum?"

"You don’t know John_Naenon?"

"John... what? That name sounds kinda weird."

"Look it up."

"Huh?"

"Search for John_Naenon. Then you’ll understand what he means to us."

"...Okay?"

Kim Byeong-cheol...

A man who failed to educate his own daughter.

Shaking my head in personal disappointment, I returned to my team.

They had already finished preparations to take down the government’s so-called dragon.

At the center of it all stood Da-jeong.

"Skelton, we’re ready. Just give the signal."

Anti-jamming equipment, high-sensitivity antennas, VR monitors, Chinese military-grade drone controllers.

She had equipped herself with the best gear available.

As she moved the controls, a high-speed drone whirred to life, zipping in circles around us.

In the distance, I spotted the metal plating that Ji Chang-soo’s group had sliced open with a welding torch.

A jagged, torn gap led into the abyss beyond.

To us, it was just a pitch-black void.

But inside that darkness, the government’s monster lay in wait.

Taking it down wouldn’t be easy.

But there was no such thing as an impossible labyrinth.

Especially when it was built by humans.