Chapter 114
Chapter 114
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 114
Chapter Title: 61. Recommendation (1)
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It's been a while since the president sent a message.
In the short video, just over a minute long, the noticeably gaunt president deeply acknowledged his mistakes, took responsibility, and announced his resignation.
Whether he stepped down or not didn't really matter to me one way or the other, but our president planned to send a deputy to Incheon to act on his behalf.
For the first time since the post-war chaos, someone who could actually take responsibility had appeared on the government side, which had been leaderless.
This deputy would handle the confusion and stabilization in the Incheon provisional capital area and the rest of the regions until the new presidential election next spring.
But this deputy...
I knew the guy.
I knew Woo Min-hee disliked Yang Sang-gil, but the "lol" tacked onto every sentence revealed her hatred for him ran deeper than the ocean.
I wondered what Um Chang-i thought about it.
Curious, but something to take to the grave.
Anyway, with the government side in disarray, Woo Min-hee's stalking antics naturally came to a halt.
Hoping she stayed busy, I threw myself into board activities I'd been neglecting.
Honestly, I hadn't been visiting the board much lately.
With so many things going on, plus winter preparations and Rebecca's move, my days had been relentlessly hectic.
But with winter prep mostly done and some breathing room, I ended up poking around not just our board but PaleNet again.
Lately, eye-catching posts had been popping up frequently on PaleNet.
...
...
A cult.
While I was away, cultists had been dumping their filth all over John_nenon's sacred PaleNet.
What could I say? Their actions looked organized no matter who saw them.
Herding around in droves, plastering ads on popular boards—it seemed more mechanical than human.
I'd heard before that many fanatics were North Korean survivors.
"Pacifists" who lived with monsters in the fully infested North had flooded south when the front lines broke, and some had quickly latched onto surviving cities in Korea, spreading their zeal.
The Legion faction even had ties to this cult.
Fortunately, PaleNet's reaction was lukewarm.
This was the normal response.
Any sane person would react like that.
I left a comment too.
"......"
Lately, I'd been thinking that ditching shame helped with stress relief when posting weird stuff.
Like a kid playing with fire, maybe.
I recalled even the now-savior-like Kang Han-min had a similar hobby.
Back in China, I'd sat at a cafeteria communal computer for the first time in ages to watch his one hobby—beatbox videos—only to find someone had left a browser open.
The page had a post half-written.
This bizarre post was by Kang Han-min.
He arrived late, face red, and hurriedly explained without being asked.
"W-Well, it's like... PTSD prevention? People break under too much stress, right? This is venting."
I remembered him smiling wistfully, gazing into the distance as he added,
"Whether human or machine, once you're broken, it's hard to go back to normal."
Back then, I despised Jang Gi-yeong, and even my brain was steeped in his mentalist philosophy that the breakable were weak and broken machines worthless, so I let Kang Han-min's words go in one ear and out the other.
A memory from nearly ten years ago surfacing unbidden was probably due to a minor incident before winter.
Anonymous848 had asked me for help.
That was the start of the trouble.
*
Anonymous848 was a longtime fixture on the board.
Part of a trio with the now-gone Kyle_Dos and Anonymous458, a friendly clique that spiced up our quiet board like a seasoning, even after Kyle_Dos vanished.
I'd even met him in person.
During the Second Scholar incident, when we went with DS to discipline some kids, Anonymous848 was there.
He hid his face with sunglasses and a mask, but couldn't conceal he was over 40.
Age aside, I found him fun and decent.
And now he'd asked me for help.
I'd heard before he lived in Pyeongtaek.
And sure enough, he was in the Pyeongtaek area.
Specifically, near where the Anseong River flows into Asan Bay.
Not too far, no major threats south, so no issue heading there.
He needed manpower, he said.
No demands for goods or food.
Considering some board users begged for food when theirs ran out, good terms.
"......Hmm."
Going wasn't hard.
The only issue: was this really Anonymous848 messaging me?
Refugees killing Anonymous848 and wearing his online skin to lure users was a classic death scenario.
I pondered briefly, then tested.
Reply from Anonymous848 came quick.
"......Hmm."
Seemed like the real deal.
I asked what exactly he needed.
He wanted to go somewhere but lacked transport.
And no confidence alone.
*Tap tap*
I hopped on the motorcycle and headed to Anonymous848's turf.
Passing the edge of Gold Pack territory through barren wilds, I kept ruined city ruins on my left and followed the riverbank.
Pre-war, there used to be a nice walking path here for hikes; now it was buried in pampas grass and weeds, impossible to spot.
Rusted roadside exercise equipment poking through the grass sadly marked where the path once was.
Human traffic was sparse—trees still hung skeletons unclaimed.
Using an abandoned factory as a landmark, I found Anonymous848's area.
He lived by the river.
Like any doomsday prepper, he dumped wastewater straight into the water, a risky choice.
An old bus stop was visible beyond.
Instead of stopping, I circled fast to scout.
No ambushes or attack signs.
Parked at the old stop, honked lightly four times.
Our meet signal.
Gun ready, I hid behind a tree for cover, watching.
Soon, someone rustled from the woods.
Average height, skinny build.
Gaunt cheeks, eerie eyes—a man slinked out.
First time seeing his face, but I knew who he was.
Anonymous848.
"Skeleton."
He said my handle first.
"848."
I replied in kind.
We faced each other.
He offered a fist bump.
I bumped back lightly.
"Didn't think you'd really come."
"Gotta answer when a board buddy calls. What's the sudden deal?"
His health seemed average—not great, not bad.
Clothes clean.
But the fierce conflict etched on his face gave bad vibes.
Soon, Anonymous848 stammered,
"......Kyle_Dos. Remember him?"
"Yeah. I do."
"Me and him were close. Anonymous458 is in our crew too, but privately, he and I were tighter."
The long preamble confirmed my hunch.
Anonymous848 looked up at me with classic begging eyes and opened his mouth.
"Capsule."
Called it.
"Skeleton. Heard you cleared a capsule from Kyle_Dos's place?"
"From him?"
"Our little secret. Others don't know. Not even Anonymous458."
"......Yeah?"
I sighed, scanning around.
No bunker, not even a hint.
"Water break. Hot during the day."
"Hold on. Got drinks left."
"What?"
"Tejava."
"Nothing else?"
"Pine Needle something."
"Anything else? Cola, soda?"
"Nah. Raided a warehouse early war; that's all that survived."
"Tejava then. No ice?"
"Like I'd have that luxury. Still early September."
I followed him to get the drinks.
Anonymous848 freaked.
"Hey, wait here! Stay!"
"Why? Wanna see your bunker."
"Uh, well... mine's kinda..."
He averted his eyes.
I glanced slyly and prodded,
"Something weird in there?"
"Y-Yeah! Kinda. Hard to show others."
"It's fine. Don't mind. RealDoll, corpse, woman—whatever. Just curious how others' bunkers look."
"Sorry, really. Next time?"
Then I knew by gut.
This guy, overly apologetic yet firm on hiding his bunker, had something to conceal.
Woman or corpse.
Whatever, probably not my business.
These days, anything could happen.
"I'll wait here."
"Thanks! Really sorry, Skeleton. Asking a favor and nitpicking."
"Take your time."
While he fetched drinks, I pondered.
"......A capsule."
Trouble, risky.
Capsules this far back screamed grim future.
But this one...
Used right, maybe okay?
Plant one on a Legion path; might distract them from me.
With the south wrecked, one less or more monster den hardly mattered.
Of course, assess risks first.
Spacing out like that—
"Hmm."
Anonymous848 wasn't back.
Ten minutes passed.
Making the drink or what?
Rustle—
Movement from dense shrubbery.
Not the direction he went.
Wary, I ducked cover, drew pistol quietly, watched.
Someone burst from woods.
"Hm?"
Not Anonymous848.
A woman.
Mid-20s.
No weapon.
Decent nutrition, clean clothes, desperately searching.
She scanned around, low desperate voice croaking,
"Skeleton? Skeleton?"
Me?
Looking for me?
I stepped out slowly.
She spotted me.
"Skeleton?"
I nodded; her lips curved into a bright smile.
"The real Skeleton?"
I eyed the woman acting like she knew me, calmly asking,
"Who are you?"
One thing clear: sharp instincts.
Her beaming face shifted to frantic terror; she clung desperately.
"Sorry to say this on first meet, but... I was kidnapped by this Anonymous848 guy!"
"......Kidnapped?"
"Yes. Over two years captive. Daily unwanted relations. Can't live like this. Please, get me out! I'll do anything! Just let me escape!"
"......"
"Every day hell. Demands several times a day. Refuse, he creates terror all day... Pure hell. Might kill myself..."
Her words stopped.
Reason obvious.
Behind me—in her view—someone we knew appeared.
"Ye-jin."
Anonymous848.
Pale-faced, he alternated glances between us, fixed on the woman called Ye-jin, voice laced with pity and bottled rage rising.
"What are you doing? There?"
Ye-jin clung to me.
"Skeleton! Please! Help me! Please!"
"What the hell are you doing?!"
Shouts from both sides; I clutched my neck unthinkingly.
"......Ha."
Suddenly, thought today the capsule might be the least threat.