Chapter 4

4. Good News

Even in the midst of destruction, there are stages.

Opinions vary from person to person, but the main indicator for distinguishing these stages is the state of the nation.

The severe stages all have the collapse of the nation as a condition.

Since the Chinese warlords launched a suicidal war, nuclear missiles have fallen on major cities in South Korea, marking the beginning of its collapse.

Many people died, and numerous cities were reduced to ruins, but even at that point, the system of South Korea was still maintained.

There was no need to go outside.

Just by receiving shortwave radio or TV signals, the national emergency broadcast would inform about the current situation.

The TV I used regularly was broken due to the EMP, but I installed a backup and continued to monitor the situation.

Millions died, and the functionality of the cities was reduced by about half, but Seoul and its surrounding areas were quickly stabilized and the situation was being managed by the military, civil servants, and volunteers.

I left the air-raid shelter after communication was restored and the system was established in the area I had settled.

I pulled out the old bicycle I had prepared for this day and headed towards Seoul.

If this were the United States, where everyone is armed with guns, it would be an extremely dangerous action, but this is South Korea.

The risk of being shot or sniped is nothing compared to the United States.

Even if this were the United States, I would have made the same choice.

There's no point in being overly cautious from the start; you won't gain anything.

Of course, even in South Korea, basic etiquette must be observed.

Cheap brands, worn-out and shabby fashion, and meager possessions—this is the dress code for the end times.

In addition to three days' worth of food, water, some dollars, and cigarettes for bartering, I carried a U.S.-made pistol and a sharp hatchet as self-defense weapons.

There were no major threats during my journey to Seoul, but the apocalyptic scenery and atmosphere around me evoked a complex mix of emotions: a sense of relief, a feeling of retribution, and a deep melancholy.

I had a good reason for leaving my well-prepared hideout and heading to Seoul.

"Excuse me, I'm looking for Hunter Lee Sang-hoon."

I approached a soldier who seemed relatively friendly amidst the busy activity.

"Lee Sang-hoon, the Hunter?"

"Yes, he is currently the disaster rescue coordinator."

"Can't you see he's busy?"

Despite his gruff demeanor, he softened when I offered him a few packs of cigarettes.

"Ah, you're looking for Director Lee Sang-hoon. It's a common name, though."

"Ah, he's been promoted. As expected, he's always been exceptional."

"Please wait a moment. I'll try to contact him. Who should I say is here?"

"Tell him it's Park Gyu, an old classmate. If he doesn't remember, just say it's the top graduate from our class, and he'll know."

A moment later, the soldier returned.

"Director Lee Sang-hoon is in a meeting and can't be contacted right now."

"Is that so?"

"What's the matter? If there's anything I can help with, I'll do my best."

I didn't actually come to see Lee Sang-hoon.

I knew he wouldn't meet me from the moment I left the air-raid shelter.

In fact, I didn't want to see him either.

There was a different reason for mentioning his name.

"I want to receive a military walkie-talkie and a personal identification number."

In some areas, mobile phones still work, but in many others, they don't.

Especially in areas far from the city, mobile phones are useless.

In such a situation, the most useful communication tool is a high-performance shortwave radio, the K-walkie-talkie.

It's heavier and more complicated to use than a mobile phone, but it's reliable and can communicate with anyone in the vicinity without knowing their number, as long as the public frequency is set.

It's a convenient device, but the military walkie-talkie is a step above civilian models and can access encrypted military frequencies.

This means you can get information directly from the military, the most reliable source of power and information at this point.

"Since you know Director Lee Sang-hoon, I can give you the walkie-talkie for free, but I can't give you a personal identification number. It's only given to military and police personnel and those responsible for monster control."

As expected.

I never thought I would get a personal identification number.

The soldier handed me a brand new, unopened walkie-talkie.

I carefully checked it for defects and tested it on the spot.

The result was perfect, a high-quality product.

This was the moment my purpose for coming to Seoul was achieved.

For the rest of the time, I rode my bicycle around Seoul.

According to sources, five nuclear missiles were launched towards Seoul, but four were intercepted in mid-air, and one fell inside the Four Gates.

The death toll is still being counted, but it's estimated to be over a million.

The roads were filled with immobilized vehicles, and the city was in ruins.

Especially inside the Four Gates, which were directly hit by the nuclear bomb, entry was prohibited.

People who had lost their homes wandered around, and hospitals were filled with radiation victims and the injured who couldn't find beds.

The security situation didn't seem too bad.

Whether it was due to the strong security forces or the lack of energy for crime among the citizens, only time would tell.

The effect of the EMP was less severe than expected; many vehicles and base stations were still operational, and some base stations and mobile phones were working.

Electricity was being restored to priority areas, albeit limited.

What people feared was the next air raid.

According to government announcements, we had retaliated with nuclear strikes, but few believed this.

Sure enough, while I was touring Seoul, an air raid warning was issued, and I took shelter in the subway.

Inside the subway, I saw many evacuees.

The area seemed to be a large apartment complex, and the subway was packed with people.

"?"

I momentarily doubted my eyes.

< Samjeon 'Best Louis Villhington' Resident Area >

< Label 'Chief Head Stone' Resident Area >

< Brandy 'Proud Noble Hill' Resident Area >

< Rottu 'Rupert Reichpalace' Resident Area >

...

...

The subway was divided into sections by apartment complexes.

Men and women, though not wearing armbands, were nervously patrolling and marking their sections.

A man in his 60s with a red cap appeared in front of me and asked brusquely,

"Sir, where are you from?"

"I'm still in my 20s. I'm 29 years old."

"No, I mean, are you from this neighborhood?"

"Please refrain from speaking informally. You're not my superior."

"Are you from this neighborhood?"

"No."

"Non-residents, please go to that area."

He waved his hand without even looking at me.

The non-resident area was in the most secluded part of the subway station.

< Rental and Others >

A section where even light barely reached.

A few people were standing around with gloomy faces, and faint radio sounds could be heard from various places.

"······This air raid is a cruise missile attack, not a nuclear one. The National Army interception units will block it, but citizens should be prepared for any possible accidents······."

Soon, the ground gently trembled, and distant explosions echoed eerily through the subway station.

Boom- Boom-

Experiencing an air raid in an unfamiliar air-raid shelter with strangers is not a pleasant experience.

Most importantly, there is no privacy.

Rustle-

As I took out a chocolate bar and peeled it, eyes like a horde of rats stared at my chocolate bar.

Just that made me feel uncomfortable, and a boy I didn't know approached and stared at me.

Rumble-

Had he not eaten properly?

He looked like he could survive a month without food.

The boy's parents, who seemed to be his, approached and took him away.

"Excuse me."

I offered a new chocolate bar and asked a few questions.

"Rations? They gave us a tiny bit. But even that······."

The boy's parents glared at the people who had taken over the entrance with resentful eyes.

I asked them, since they were being tight-lipped.

"Are the residents of the complex monopolizing everything?"

The boy's parents nodded silently.

"I see."

It was a fresh discovery.

It's natural for people to form interest groups in times of crisis, but Koreans have their own focal points.

During the Joseon Dynasty, there were clan villages; in modern times, there are apartment complexes.

The more residents and the stronger the influence of a complex, the more powerful it becomes.

The power balance was starkly evident in this small underground air-raid shelter.

Strong complexes occupied the best spots and monopolized resources, while weaker ones were relegated to inferior areas and received meager rations.

A quintessentially Korean scene, one might say.

Soon, the air raid warning was lifted.

- Air raid warning lifted! Air raid warning lifted! Citizens are requested to go outside and resume their daily activities.

After a brief exchange with the family I had been with, I left the subway.

As I tried to leave the subway, I saw the signs and residents of the apartment complexes that had been divided.

"······"

Well, they probably won't cause any trouble.

I could feel many eyes scrutinizing me and my bicycle as I passed through, but no actual threats materialized.

After all, life was still bearable, and the country was still standing.

I inadvertently overheard their conversation.

"This bombing, it hit the new city. The Chinese even loaded chemical weapons into the missiles, causing massive damage."

This was a typical conversation.

However, a woman's brusque comment made me stop in my tracks.

"Good news."

I instantly doubted my ears.

"?"

How could this be good news in this situation?

"Good news. There are only a few good complexes left in Seoul. If all the others are destroyed except for ours, our neighborhood will become the most prestigious residential area, won't it?"

If only one or two people had said this, I might have dismissed it.

But human behavior often exceeds imagination.

"Upon hearing it, it sounds like a huge piece of good news."

"Our apartment will become the best in Seoul."

"My friend always boasted about her neighborhood, but it's a joke now."

"I can't wait to see the new hierarchy of prime locations after the war ends."

"Indeed, a crisis must come for opportunities to arise."

After the war started, I rarely looked at other people's faces.

They were all going to die soon anyway.

But this time, I couldn't help but look at their faces.

Ordinary faces, the kind you see everywhere.

That's why my anger deepened.

"Isn't that a bit too much to say?"

I asked, knowing I would never see these faces again.

The response was a cold glare.

A middle-aged woman smirked, exchanged glances with the residents, and said,

"Mind your own business."

*

There was no way to know or find out the fate of the entire complex.

I wasn't that idle to care about people who called the end of the world good news.

But I knew the fate of the residents of the 'Rupert Reichpalace' complex, one of those factions.

I remember it was about a year and a half after my first visit to Seoul.

A group of refugees passed by my hideout.

- Static! Static! This is the Rupert Reichpalace Residents' Association! If anyone is listening, please respond! Repeat! This is the Rupert Reichpalace Residents' Association!

They tried to communicate with the surroundings over the public frequency.

I just listened without responding.

I had enough food and water to feed hundreds of people, but I wouldn't give them anything.

Not a single grain of rice or a flake of skin from my body.

At least for them, coming to my territory was not good news.

- Static! Ahhh! Monsters! This is the Rupert Reichpalace Residents' Association! We are under attack by monsters! Repeat! This is the Rupert Reichpalace Residents' Association!

A few months ago, some monsters that kill people appeared around my base.

The attackers were not monsters.

They were beings contaminated and mutated by the disease brought by the monsters.

'Mutations.'

A few stray cats cared for by a local cat lady were infected with the mutation factor, grew to the size of tigers, and now, with the skills that once threatened the survival of mandarin ducks and natural monuments, they were trying to wipe out humans.

Their combat power might be weaker than the 'Gold Pack,' a group of mutated killer dogs active in the south, but against civilians, they were like a different class of warriors.

Bang!

The sound of scattered gunfire and the walkie-talkie emitted惨叫声。

- 静电！这里是鲁佩特·莱希帕莱斯居民协会！重复！我们正受到怪物的攻击！

我静静地听着，对着对讲机说了一句。

“真是好消息。”