Chapter 9

9. Neighbor

Bang!

In the late afternoon, as I sit listlessly in a folding chair and gaze at the sky, gunshots occasionally echo from the south.

The pattern of the dull, spreading gunshots.

They belong to the sniper who lives in the southeast.

There used to be a small town.

The streets were about 5.5 kilometers long in a straight line.

There was a church, a supermarket, a village bank, a community center, and an elementary school, making it a bustling area.

When the war started, the area turned into a wasteland, but a few steel-reinforced concrete buildings remained, looking like the eerie skeletons of dead bodies.

Here lives the mad sniper, one of my few neighbors.

The reason she is called 'mad' is that she shoots at everything that passes by.

Her behavior of trying to kill everyone who approaches her territory reminds me of the human hunters in our community, but if you look deeper, there is a vast difference between the two.

Human hunters kill to hide and not reveal their territory.

In contrast, the mad sniper shoots first.

There is no other option.

She lies in ambush in a high-rise building that can monitor all directions, peering through a scope and trying to eliminate everything that enters her effective range.

Of course, the sniper is human too.

She has a warm heart like any other warm-blooded animal and knows how to love.

I know the sniper, and she knows me.

The story goes back to three months after the war broke out.

*

It was the holiday season.

Crowds of people bustling about, sparkling Christmas trees, children throwing tantrums in department stores, snow covering the streets, and the eerie Santa Claus, among other things, but after the war, these memories are nothing more than faded recollections that can never be regained.

At the time, I was busy assessing the condition of the weapons I had taken from the U.S. military base.

The firearms and ammunition were stored in a sturdy air-raid shelter, so they were not damaged or directly exposed to radioactive fallout, but since they were in an area that had been directly hit by a nuclear explosion, there was concern about radioactive contamination.

Fortunately, the inspection results concluded that both the firearms and ammunition were usable, and they were stored in my arsenal.

Unfortunately, there were no weapons more powerful than rifles.

Not only the expected hunter equipment but also no weapons more powerful than grenades.

It seemed that the base was empty before the nuclear attack, as evidenced by the scattered and shredded documents, hastily abandoned supplies, and coffee mugs left on the desks.

The situation in the U.S. was not much better.

The nuclear attack on South Korea was just the tip of the iceberg.

Hundreds of missiles fell there.

The U.S. military, known as the Space Force, managed to intercept most of them, but they still had their own monsters.

Monsters are beings from another dimension, created by principles and logic entirely different from humans, possessing features of both living and non-living things, and wielding powers and miracles that humans do not have, aiming to exterminate humanity, their natural enemy.

They appear through rifts, which have two characteristics.

One is their even distribution.

Each rift opens at a fixed interval.

There are four in South Korea, but the most critical one is the Paju Rift.

The reason it is particularly critical is that rifts have another characteristic: strength.

The strength of a rift is proportional to the number of humans living nearby.

The strength of the Paju Rift, which encompasses the capital region, is the highest, while the Jeju Rift is the lowest.

Traditionally, a large population and extensive territory are the criteria for distinguishing a major power from a minor one, but now they are the criteria for a country that will quickly collapse.

India and China, which have both a large population and extensive territory, quickly fell, not by chance but by necessity.

The U.S., with a smaller population, is in a better situation, but it is not entirely safe.

With its vast territory and substantial population, it is not immune.

In fact, before the war, the U.S. had begun to withdraw its troops from key countries back to the homeland.

It was not uncommon to hear that there were no U.S. troops left in South Korea before the war broke out.

However, the U.S. troops that were supposed to be extinct invaded my territory.

They were driving a heavy Humvee with a 12.7mm machine gun mounted on top.

When the Humvee passed through the golf course and entered my territory, I recalled the old sage's words that in this world, luck is everything and the rest is nothing.

Why, of all times, now?

What sin have I committed?

Is it a crime to pick up abandoned weapons?

As various thoughts crossed my mind, the Humvee stopped in front of Air Raid Shelter No. 11 in my territory.

A young blonde woman got out of the vehicle.

She was as tall as me, wearing a helmet, a bulletproof vest, and a well-equipped firearm, making her more heavily armed than I was.

At the time, the closed-circuit cameras and eavesdropping equipment had not been restored.

The existing ones had been burned to a crisp during the nuclear attack, along with the old man's house.

To make matters worse, the periscope I had installed in preparation for such a situation was not moving.

The debris from the fierce after-shock of the nuclear attack had jammed it, and trying to move it would only reveal my presence.

So, I had to rely on the meager information coming through the small observation window.

Soon, she moved into a blind spot.

I stayed in place.

I had not yet determined the number of U.S. troops who had invaded my territory.

There could be one, or as many as three or more lurking inside that steel beast.

Fighting well-trained and well-armed U.S. troops is not something I want, but if they target my territory, I have no other choice.

I have to kill them all.

After watching for a long time, there was no movement inside the Humvee.

Rustle

There was a sound from the side of the main air-raid shelter.

It was the woman from earlier.

What should I do?

I could quickly subdue her.

That would be the easier option.

But I thought of another plan.

If she is a scout, the U.S. troops inside the vehicle are likely not on high alert.

If I can eliminate the main force with one surprise attack, this difficult battle will end in a perfect victory.

I immediately took action.

I predicted her path from the sound of her footsteps, silently emerged from the dummy air-raid shelter, and moved toward the Humvee, hiding my body.

I remember that one door was open.

It remained open, even when I brought the Humvee back into my sight.

There was no response from inside the Humvee.

I switched the firearm to automatic and approached.

Just before entering, I sensed movement from behind.

I was taken aback.

"?! "

The sound came from an unexpected area.

Still, I calmly entered the Humvee and aimed my gun.

The vehicle was empty.

The rear seats, where people should have been sitting, were filled with a pile of firearms, ammunition, and combat rations.

Swallow

My mouth went dry.

It was an incredible amount of equipment.

Enough to turn even me, who tries to maintain human decency, into a looter.

One person?

Two people?

My mind worked faster than usual.

At least two people.

The female soldier was whistling, unaware of my greed, signaling her position.

Subduing her was easy.

I tripped her from behind, stepped on her back, and pressed the cold barrel of my gun to the back of her neck.

Just as I was about to pull the trigger and prepare for the next battle, another soldier appeared from the side.

The second soldier was enough to cast a stone of doubt into my murderous heart.

She was a girl.

About ten years old?

An innocent child, completely out of place in the apocalyptic scene of the burnt-out golf course and its ruins, was staring at me, who was about to kill.

Suddenly, I noticed that the child and the woman had the same hair color and similar features.

The child tilted her head and called out to her mother.

"......"

I pondered for a moment.

Should I kill them and take everything?

Or should I take the risk and let them go?

It's not an easy decision.

The former is overwhelmingly advantageous, and anyone who hasn't been shot in the head would choose it.

"......Sigh."

I took a deep breath.

Numerous thoughts entangled my mind, but in the end, I chose a less wise path.

I removed my foot from her back, kicked her gun away, and stepped back.

The soldier let out a scream and quickly got up, approaching the child and glaring at me.

I looked into her blue, heaving eyes, where I saw my reflection.

In the center of her bloodshot eyes, I stood calmly, draped in a dark robe of fear and contempt.

At that moment, I understood how this foreign soldier perceived me.

She saw me as a being clearly different from herself.

Unfathomable and unnecessary to understand.

As if she was the sole resident of civilization thrown into the jungle, and I was the inhabitant of the jungle surrounding her.

Why, with different appearances, languages, and cultures?

Is there a need to understand each other in such extreme situations?

The outcome would have been similar even if our roles were reversed.

"Here. My land."

I pointed to my territory.

I knew their language but chose not to use it.

"My home."

This is South Korea.

South Korea is not Rome, but in its current state of collapse, it is as historically significant as Rome.

"?"

"Leave. Now."

"......"

"Or bang! Got it?"

The woman, sensing something, quickly drew her pistol and aimed it at me.

I kicked the pistol away with my foot and pressed the barrel to her temple.

The child's scream echoed briefly, but I winked at her and said to the woman,

"Behave. Bitch."

"Bitch?!"

When you go abroad, you learn curses first.

Do you understand this?

"Too early?"

"Get lost."

Only then did the woman realize I had no intention of killing her.

That doesn't mean the tension dissipated.

She still showed a slight guard and spoke in broken Korean.

"Medicine."

"Medicine?"

"Medicine. Need?"

"What kind?"

She pointed to the child.

"Wait."

I handed her fever reducers, cold medicine, antibiotics, and a can of skimmed milk.

She seemed surprised by my kindness, especially the skimmed milk.

"Never come back."

The mother and child left without a word, taking the treasure that could have turned me into a looter.

Not long after, a neighbor appeared in the southeast.

She was still in the jungle, fighting the specter of prejudice to protect the child thrown into the jungle with her.

There was one exchange after that.

On a dark night, the child came to my air-raid shelter alone.

She had grown taller, having been raised on my milk, and was searching for me with a teary face.

When I revealed myself, she said,

"Mom, hurts."

The child seemed better adapted to the Korean jungle than her mother.

Like Mowgli from The Jungle Book or, commercially, Tarzan.

She drove a dusty vehicle into the town where gunshots could be heard.

The woman was exhausted and ill, appearing more like a jungle beast caught in a trap than a civilized person.

I gave her a proper prescription, left some medicine, and turned to leave.

No words were exchanged, and none were needed.

As I was about to leave, the child suddenly grabbed my wrist.

"Name."

The child was asking for my name.

"Park Kyu."

"Park Kyu?"

The child raised her middle finger in confusion, and I smiled wryly, giving her my nickname instead.

"......Skeleton."

The child repeated the name, savoring it, and then smiled widely, repeating it.

"Skeleton!"

Time passed to the present.

It's Christmas Eve.

In the community, a game developer named Anonymous118 has created a virtual Christmas tree decorating content based on something that circulated before the war.

It's not much, just a Christmas tree drawn as a sprite with ten empty slots, each to be filled by a different user choosing one of nine decorations and leaving a supportive message.

SKELTON: (Skeleton's request) Please decorate my tree~

I'm still an unpopular user with no close friends, so my Christmas tree is empty, but sometimes emptiness is better than fullness.

IamJesus: Who the hell are you?!

The tree of a self-proclaimed Jesus Christ, whom I once blocked, is filled with anonymous congratulatory messages.

<Leukemia, liver cancer, rheumatism, Lou Gehrig's disease, myocardial infarction, stroke, pulmonary embolism, asthma, tuberculosis, paralysis, third-degree neuralgia>

The human hunter also received a significant number of messages.

As I watched, amused,

Ding!

Something came in.

[Anonymous user has sent a message to SKELTON~]

I checked.

One slot on the empty tree was filled.

<Jonnaen>

"Huh?"

Jonnaen?

What is this?

What does it mean?

My confusion was momentarily pushed aside by the static from the K-walkie-talkie.

-Crackle... crackle!

It's 11 PM.

I don't remember anyone using the public frequency at this time and place.

Soon, I knew who the culprit was.

"Merry Christmas~."

The young girl's voice echoed from the speaker.

"Skeleton!"

No doubt.

It's my neighbor.

I hesitated for a moment about whether to respond, but the decision was made when a smile spread across my face.

"Merry Christmas."

I should have asked her name.

Despite the brief interaction, that day I was left with a deeper impression than any Christmas tree message, sipping whiskey that I would never normally touch.

"Huh."

Opening the door, the cold air swept away the warmth I had barely managed to heat, but my heart felt lighter.

I looked up at the sky.

A winter sky, black as ink, sprinkled with countless stars.

After realizing I was not chosen by God, I had not prayed.

I clasped my hands and prayed to the night sky.

May the gunshots of this mother and child be heard for a long time.