Chapter 56

37. Immortality (2)

It's been a while since I've seen the sea.

Especially the sea embracing the sunset.

Sitting on a camping chair, I stared blankly and endlessly at the red sun sinking into the sea, dyeing it with its own color.

As dusk began to cover the fields, Dragon appeared with a fragrant aroma.

"Have a cup of coffee."

Dragon was a well-prepared doomsday prepper.

His bunker, though not as overwhelming as mine, was more spacious and comfortable than any I had seen before, and it was well-stocked with food.

The most interesting part was the weapons.

Dragon had a Chinese-made rifle, just like me.

"Shortly after the war started, Chinese soldiers' bodies were washed ashore. There were so many. The ROK Navy submarines really did a number on their fleet. Two ships were cut in half and sank right in front of us. A few bodies washed ashore, and I managed to take a few."

The most impressive thing was the coffee.

It had been two and a half years since the war started, yet he still had coffee beans.

"Half of my soul is made of alcohol and cigarettes, the other half of coffee."

Not just coffee.

He even had an espresso machine, the kind you'd see in a professional café.

Enjoying this rare luxury, I felt a smile spread across my face as I waited for our barista to prepare a cup.

While he was roasting the beans, I looked around his bunker.

It was empty and desolate.

Unlike mine, there was no toilet in the center, but the cracks and efflorescence on the roughly finished concrete, and the patches of mold, clearly showed that building a bunker was no easy task.

Dragon had tried to lighten the gloomy atmosphere of the bunker by posting webtoon posters with a familiar style, which he claimed to be his own work, but the stacks of empty bottles and cigarette packs in the corner evoked a sense of both fear and pity.

The alcohol, in particular, was all over 40% proof, which left a strong impression.

He had already emptied hundreds of bottles.

Was that why his complexion was so poor?

"How's your health?"

"Me? Do I look bad?"

"A little."

"I'm taking medication, so don't worry. Anyway, take a look around. This is my workspace, Dragon's workshop."

In one corner of the bunker, there were wooden dolls, various spell books and anatomy texts, a printer, several lights and auxiliary monitors, and a tablet-equipped workbench. The numerous scripts and storyboards scattered on the desk revealed the professionalism of a pro writer.

In one corner of the desk, there was a cute little ornament.

A tiny plastic goldfish, no bigger than a thumb, was floating in a small aquarium.

The goldfish, despite being made of plastic, moved around as if it were alive, turning its silly face in all directions. This was not due to any complex mechanism but because the body itself was so light that it responded to even the slightest vibrations.

As I watched the goldfish float and move, Dragon handed me a cup of coffee.

"Oh."

It's delicious.

How long has it been since I last had a proper cup of coffee?

I opened my eyes wide and gazed at the dark liquid in the warm cup.

"There's more, so don't hold back. Honestly, compared to the trouble of inviting you here, this is nothing."

Dragon gestured for me to go outside.

The sea was already shrouded in darkness.

Looking at the pitch-black sea, the two community users sat side by side, gazing at the dark sea and the stars that began to appear one by one in the sky.

"......I wasn't a late bloomer."

Looking at the stars, Dragon began his story with a faint smile.

"Rather, I was a reckless guy who jumped into the world of comics before even graduating from high school."

When Dragon was young, weekly serialized comic magazines, known as "champs" in Korea, were still thriving.

It's hard to understand now, but at the time, paper comics were considered superior and more prestigious than the nascent webtoons.

Dragon was one of them.

"The thrill of turning the pages. That's why I loved comics. I thought scrolling couldn't provide that excitement."

Dragon's first impression was that he was older than I thought and seemed difficult to get along with.

But he was a born cartoonist.

"So, on the previous page, the villain exuded an aura that no one could touch, making the reader think, 'Wow, this guy is really strong!' Then the reader becomes curious. How can such a guy be defeated? With that anxiety and curiosity, and the desire to see the villain get beaten up, the reader starts flipping through the pages!"

When he talked about comics, he could revert to a young boy, just like Young Chang.

"At least with a comic book, I can unfold and fold a world of that size at will. Webtoons can do that too, but there's a difference between a world in your hands and one that isn't. I can't quite explain it, but there is a difference."

His life story, which started a bit disjointedly, flowed smoothly into the problems he faced.

"There was a time when I thought I was better than the others. It was true. My seniors and peers in the same school of thought all thought the same. But talent is something you can't control. Even with different tools and methods of expression, there's no greater difference in talent than in drawing. I don't know about music, but drawing is visible, right?"

Dragon's gaze went beyond the sea, recalling a man who had humiliated him so much that his face turned red.

"Whether it's a webtoon or a paper comic, a good drawer is a good drawer. Filkum is one of those guys."

"He can draw, especially women."

"He might have sold a million copies if he was born in Japan."

"Hmm, is that so?"

"You can tell just by looking at the lines. Besides, those guys can draw easily. I have to think hard and sketch like I'm coloring to finish a single panel, but those guys can just look and draw, and it's done. And the simple drawings are more complete than what I spend hours on? It's not just about drawing. They can come up with compositions on the spot, so the direction is naturally better. That's where the difference comes from. Besides, I was slow with my hands. My work process was too cumbersome."

"How so?"

"I had to write to visualize anything. Even when making storyboards, I had to make text storyboards first and then draw them."

"Definitely cumbersome."

Dragon sighed deeply as he finished his coffee.

"......It's a matter of talent."

There's nothing I can add to that.

Everyone has different abilities, and I feel this more deeply than anyone.

But Dragon had a stronger spirit than me.

"But comics aren't just about drawing. In the end, a cartoonist is a storyteller, right?"

"That's true."

"To be honest, I think I'm a better storyteller than Filkum. Besides—"

He lightly tapped my arm.

"I have the best model."

"My callsign is Dandy, not Professor. D.A.N.D.Y."

"I know, I know. But I'll keep it a secret. Naturally, I have to protect the identity of the model who cooperated with my research."

"Dandy, huh?"

"How about Typhoon?"

"......Typhoon?"

I thought it was quite impressive.

Thousands of times more impressive than Dandy.

It felt like the sharp sense of a pro writer.

"I'll draw a short story about a Guard-born active hunter, Typhoon, operating in China. I'll mix in a lot of realism and psychological descriptions."

Dragon clenched his calloused right fist.

"I'll face them on their home turf. I'll flatten their noses."

"Wow."

"Wait! Oh! Ohhhhhh!!!"

Dragon, who had just shown such intense confidence, suddenly clutched his stomach and groaned in pain.

It looked like severe pain.

His toes were trembling.

"......Shit."

Dragon mumbled with a face paler than the moon.

"What is it?"

"......No, it's just a seizure. A chronic condition."

The stacks of empty bottles in the bunker came to mind.

All that strong alcohol.

Perhaps it was the driving force that kept a man who had to live a mediocre life going, but it might also have been the disease that slowly ate away at him.

"Isn't it really bad? Your face looked bad from the start."

"I'm fine. I can still hold on. I have medication. I might not live to 60, but if I can hold on for five years and die, everyone else will probably be dead by then."

"Three years, maybe?"

"Me?"

Dragon showed his disapproval.

"No. Us."

"Your opinion as a former hunter is more convincing."

Dragon forced a smile on his grimacing face and looked out at the distant sea.

A light flickered from a small island in the distance.

Perhaps it was from the Chinese military.

Anyway, it was time to part ways.

Dragon swallowed a few pills without water and gave me a thumbs up.

"Thanks, Skeleton. Thanks to you, I can pick up my pen again."

He handed me a crumpled piece of paper.

On it was the synopsis of the short story he would use to challenge Filkum, with me as the model, written in a hurried scrawl.

"Check out the PaleNet bulletin board. I'll be sure to see it!"

He waved at me.

I gave him a thumbs up in return.

"......My callsign is Dandy."

"Stop it!"

A moment later, Dragon swallowed more pills and came back to me.

The man who had just been in excruciating pain now had a cheerful face as he handed me a heavy envelope.

"What's this?"

"It's a small gift. My collection of works."

"Collection of works?"

"A collection of short stories? Some ideas too. Read it when you're bored. It might not be interesting, but it should pass the time."

"Such a valuable thing?"

"It's a copy."

"Wouldn't a file be enough?"

"I told you before, right? I like the feeling of flipping through a comic with my hands. Sure, a printed version or a monitor is the same, but—"

"Ah, thanks."

"Ah."

Dragon suddenly exclaimed.

He turned to me with a mischievous, boyish smile.

"Can you wait to look at it later?"

"?"

"It'll feel like a spoiler if you look at it now."

"Hmm."

"Please, Skeleton."

I can't refuse a request from a senior and named user.

"My callsign is......"

"Dandy!"

*

A comic was posted on the PaleNet comic serial board.

The author was DragonC.

The short story was about a Guard-born hunter operating in China.

Despite his sufficient skills, he always fell short by 2%, which kept him at the A-level. He had a pathological obsession with the S-level.

One day, a crisis arose.

A medium-sized monster appeared in an unexpected area, and the retreat was blocked by a necromancer type and the zombies it raised.

The battle turned into a matter of life and death, not just a matter of rank.

His comrades fell one by one.

Now, he was the only one left to fight. He realized that if he faced the horde of zombies on the road, he would eventually die from exhaustion.

He heard the murmurs of the surviving comrades.

The hunter, Typhoon, had already surpassed the S-level by a wide margin.

"......Hmm."

It seemed to be 2% short of a masterpiece, just like the protagonist's callsign, "Typhoon."

But the serious and silent protagonist, the complete exclusion of romance, and especially the realistic and well-researched battle scenes were enough to spark word-of-mouth among the picky PaleNet readers.

Dragon posted the new work "Typhoon" on our board, in high resolution, with a time delay.

The response was predictably enthusiastic.

Anonymous848: Wow

Keystone: This is the first time I've seen such realistic hunter battles.

Dies_irae69: The battle research is amazing.

THE_LAST_MAN: It's killing it.

Anonymous458: Looks like he got a hit from Filkum and came back sharpened. ㄷㄷ

Kimcic: As expected, it's Dragon. Our Dragon is the best!

Unicorn18: No female characters... Boring.

Gijayangban: The research is so realistic. Did he consult with an old-school hunter?

James_Catterer: wow

James_Catterer: Can somebody translate this to English? :)

"Hey, Skeleton. Did you see the comic Dragon just posted?"

Defender contacted me.

I responded, curious about the standards of Mr. Seo and Skeleton.

"Sure did."

"100%. I definitely know a hunter. There are some old-school elements, but this is something only someone who has been in the field would know."

I just smiled slightly.

After all, I wasn't the only one who had signed a confidentiality agreement.