Chapter 117
Chapter 117
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 117
Chapter Title: 62. Alumni Gathering (2)
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Food waste, huh.
It's been a while since I've heard that term.
Before the war, I used to generate plenty of it myself.
The food waste disposer attached to the sink was a relic of those abundant days, I suppose.
These days, people force down even the tasteless stuff, trying to leave nothing behind.
I could guess what Cheon Young-jae was getting at.
"They bought it to eat, but it went bad and got tossed. But food waste is a pain to deal with, right? You need those special bags and all. In an apartment complex, machines make it easy, but if you're like Senior Park, living out here, it'd be tough to handle properly, no?"
"I used a disposer."
"A disposer? Isn't that illegal?"
"What?"
"Anyway, it just felt off. Like I had a hunch I'd get screwed over. There aren't many good spots left in this world, you know? And the ones who snatch them up are always these ghost-like bastards. What can you do? If I were your classmate or just one year behind, maybe, but between you and me, there are dozens from the big waves. The math checks out, doesn't it?"
"You know what happened to the low-level guys, huh."
At my question, Cheon Young-jae smirked bitterly, trailing off.
"I don't know. I wasn't there. But there was this girl I knew... she died. Not on the battlefield, but right here in Korea."
"That's too bad, but it could just be coincidence."
"I liked a lot of girls. I kept tabs on any decent junior. They're all dead. Or missing."
"How many?"
"Thirty-two. No, thirty-three, maybe."
"..."
"I was right."
This guy definitely had foresight.
And strong convictions.
So why hadn't someone with such sharp insight turned into a doomsayer?
Money was probably the biggest issue, but I figured he could've scraped together a bunker on a budget.
"So what'd you do next? Build a bunker or something."
"Well, I misjudged. I thought there'd still be demand for old-school hunters. With so few who could make waves, maybe we could scrape by in support roles. That was my guess. But... way more showed up than I expected..."
Cheon Young-jae suddenly stood up and sprawled out flat in my bunker.
"Total fucking disaster."
Still sprawled, he turned his head toward me.
"I did think about building a bunker. But it felt too defeatist. What's that term? Short-bus kids? The ones performing rituals for the country to fall."
"...Get out of my house."
As I scanned around for a broom, Cheon Young-jae suddenly got serious and spoke up.
"Baek-ga bit it this time, right?"
"He didn't die."
"He's dead. Who survives that?"
"Some people live in leaning apartments."
"Oh, that guy from The Hope?"
Cheon Young-jae propped up his upper body and chuckled.
"Yeah, no?"
"The Hope - Cliff Hanger."
"Sounds badass..."
"Everyone knows that guy. Even the Legion Faction won't touch him. Word is, they're betting on when that apartment collapses."
Cheon Young-jae checked his watch and stood.
"Anyway, whether Baek-ga croaked or not, this mess made me realize something."
"What?"
"They say he was pathetic at the end, but back in his prime, he was decent. Fought hard. Seeing even a guy like that go out that way... it hit me hard."
Cheon Young-jae pulled a photo from his pocket.
It was a group shot with Woo Min-hee’s lab in the background.
And there were faces I recognized.
People I'd hunted mutations with, folks I'd passed in Hunter Street, hazy memories from the China battlefield that felt like dreams.
"What's this?"
I had a feeling I knew, but asked anyway.
The front row knelt awkwardly, holding a crude banner.
"Alumni gathering?"
The text looked photoshopped, but it was just poor print quality.
"Yeah."
Cheon Young-jae gazed at the photo with a wistful smile.
"Would've been perfectly symmetrical if Baek-ga was there."
"You secretly like Baek-ga, don't you?"
"I liked his wife. She stonewalled me. What did that Baek-ga have going for him anyway."
"You're a real asshole."
"Kidding. Anyway, us. Don't you think we're getting screwed compared to what we sacrificed?"
I pondered how to respond as I met his gaze.
Here, honesty should be fine.
"What can you do? The country's saying we're useless."
"If the country won't look after us, we gotta do it ourselves. Legion Faction, National Assembly faction, whatever—we all came from the same school. All walked in with pure hearts to fight monsters."
He approached and handed me another paper.
"This?"
At my question, Cheon Young-jae winked and urged me to take it.
"You're the top dog among us, Senior Park. Kinda legendary. Never thought you'd turn into one of those country-falling ritual types, though."
"..."
"So, lend us some clout. We're alumni, gotta have a celeb to puff up the chest, right?"
"...Hmm."
"No real work. Just stay in touch. If possible, group photos and dinners. Recruited one in Busan. Says he'll come to the Alumni Night."
"From that far?"
"So join up. We all dreamed the same dream."
It didn't really appeal.
Clinging to the past.
With ruin waiting ahead, why look back?
But his passionate eyes and talk of shared dreams tugged at something in me.
I took the form and signed.
Hunter-style: name plus callsign.
Park Gyu - Professor
"Who's the alumni president?"
"Me."
Cheon Young-jae grinned, folding the form into his pocket.
"How many members?"
"Two now."
"What?"
"Me and Senior Park."
"Then what's that photo?"
"Oh, that. Photoshopped. Originally a Hunter Street volleyball club group pic."
"...Photoshopped."
I got played, but it didn't feel bad.
I could sense what he wanted from this alumni thing.
Whether it was right for people who'd shared dreams and times to be discarded so pointlessly and pathetically.
My own classmate had said something similar.
A bit rough around the edges, but this bold junior had turned idle talk into action.
"With 'Professor' on board, we'll grow, right? Our alumni group?"
"Can't you just pass applications around Hunter Street?"
"Those folks will join for sure. Planning to reach out to locals and Legion Faction folks too."
"Legion Faction?"
He nodded.
"How? Got some device?"
"We have a dedicated frequency."
"What?"
"It's just for our class. Like a group chat."
"Class of '18 must be tight-knit."
"Cursed class, right? Gotta stick with the cursed ones. Who else would take care of us?"
"You know a Jeong-ho in your class?"
Defender's name.
Didn't know the family name.
"Jeong-ho? Hong Jeong-ho? Or Yoo Jeong-ho?"
"Dunno. Pretty boy."
"Both are."
"Psycho who enjoys killing. Has a little sister."
"No clue. Not close to either. One's dead anyway."
Cheon Young-jae checked his watch again.
"Busy?"
"Yeah. Got other places to hit."
"I see."
"One classmate alive around here."
"Jeong-ho?"
"How'd you know?"
"...Various reasons."
"Hong Jeong-ho."
Cheon Young-jae grinned.
Sharp guy, I thought, then told him.
"Don't mention me to him."
Cheon Young-jae packed his gear.
I watched silently as he prepared to leave.
At first, I didn't like him barging into my bunker, but talking made it feel novel, fresh.
Wonder if it'll be like this when Rebecca and her daughter enter my turf.
Guess I'm picky, alright.
When he grabbed his gun, I instinctively noted my pistol's position.
"...You know Yang Sang-gil came?"
Shouldering his rifle, Cheon Young-jae spoke.
"Yeah."
"Know his nickname?"
"Yang Lettuce, wasn't it?"
"That was pre-collapse."
Click.
He loaded the mag, checked the safety, and turned to me.
"The Butcher."
At those words, an image flashed: a gaunt man in a suit and thick glasses.
"...That guy who can't even catch a piglet?"
"Rumor is he devised the Seoul population reduction plan. Same with the fleet Baek-ga was on."
"Where'd you hear that?"
"Junior on Jeju."
"Awayken?"
"Yeah."
Cheon Young-jae pointed to his head.
"Like me. Anyway, the Butcher Yang Sang-gil showing up in Incheon... obvious, right?"
"Here to finish off the stragglers."
"Maybe including himself. Brought family, they say."
At the exit, he paused.
"Might end up settling around here."
"..."
"Not sharing the bunker—just basing nearby. Better than some outsider guarding your flank, no, Senior Park?"
"Making a village?"
"Village? I like it."
His eyes sparkled with mischief as he grinned, then left with the same light, free stride he'd arrived with.
I called after departing Cheon Young-jae.
"Know who's running things now?"
"Running things?"
"Jeju."
He eyed me, rolling his eyes, then met my gaze squarely.
"Your classmate, Senior Park."
"Kang Han-min?"
"That guy? Supposedly a few screws loose."
"Always was."
"Anyway, secondhand info, so rumor. Could be your acquaintance, so badmouthing's tacky. Figure it out yourself. Most likely one. Classmate, right?"
He waved.
I waved back, seeing him off.
From the hill, I watched him trudge west, lost in thought.
My classmate as Jeju's real power.
Who?
Kang Han-min? Na Hye-in?
Na Hye-in, maybe. More boss vibes than Kang Han-min.
But my Jeju classmates aren't just them.
My old best friend, Gong Kyung-min, too.
He's a ghost to me now.
But he's still alive and kicking.
Why a ghost? We're no longer connected.
We cut ties.
100% my fault.
Gong Kyung-min opposed my quitting hunting most fiercely.
"Guys like you need to stay. Who else represents hunters? Lee Sang-hun? Kim Daram? They're not fit."
To change my mind, he threw posts my way.
Hunter weapon inspector, some forgotten department head.
Even instructor once—but that was when my resolve was weakest, so Park Gyu Instructor lasted two weeks.
Eventually, Gong Kyung-min issued an ultimatum.
Quit, and we're done.
In hindsight, dead wrong, but back then, Park Gyu still had his edge.
Next day, I quit.
No contact after, naturally.
Didn't even think of him.
Ran into him at National Crisis Committee a few times—we ignored each other.
Perfectly natural, like strangers from the start.
And now, alumni association.
"Hey, Park Gyu. We should start one too, right?"
Funnily, Gong Kyung-min was first to suggest it.
He's on Jeju now.
(He sent 50,000 won to Kim Daram's wedding, skipped attending. I know 'cause I delivered his envelope and peeked.)
*
The alumni group changes nothing.
World's the same.
Slowly, steadily marching to doom.
Corrosion's slower than expected, fewer monsters lately. Viva! Apocalypse! US board analyzed why.
Outbreaks in strong nations like US, Japan, Australia surged fivefold pre-war.
Hard to believe, but monsters seem to focus on viable prey over picked-clean fish.
Does it matter if others fall?
Big for Rebecca, but my focus is elsewhere lately.
A new face popped up on the board.
Not a regular—zero activity history. A total noob account.
But this guy.
Something's off.
His video: a crumbling cityscape, recent by looks. A skinny arm with a flashy luxury watch drives a high-end sedan, emblem gleaming.
"You beggar fuckers!"
The guy yells shallowly at onlookers, laughs with a face-obscured woman.
A board regular I know well outs him directly.