Chapter 12
Chapter 12
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 12
Chapter Title: . Lottery
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It's been a year and eight months since the war began.
A drowsy spring day where the air is starting to feel warm.
Gunfire echoes from the distance.
Here we go again.
I wonder how many bullets that mother-daughter duo even has.
They've fired thousands by now, but they shoot every damn day. Did they set up a bullet factory or something?
Lately, it seems they've started teaching the daughter how to shoot, too.
You can tell from the occasional double cracks of gunfire one after another.
Early education for the apocalypse, I suppose.
The Mad Sniper is undoubtedly an excellent marksman.
She drives off regular folks with shots to the toes or car side mirrors—enough to chill the blood—but zombies or raiders get a bullet straight between the eyes without fail.
And it's not just bullets; she has heavy weapons aplenty.
I saw Claymores in that Humvee before, along with guided missiles like Javelins.
But lately, what grates on my nerves isn't the mother-daughter duo's gunfire.
That's a welcome sound.
What really gets under my skin is the roar of the transport planes slicing across the sky right now.
Those transport flights have spiked recently.
To the point where it rivals pre-war levels.
I thought all resistance from the Chinese side was crushed. What's the problem?
Rumor has it lotteries are suddenly all the rage in Seoul lately.
It's definitely a trend.
Even our community members—who've sworn off the world—are showing interest.
I thought of myself as a pretty serious guy.
Stoic, maybe. The type who doesn't get swept up in fads.
But curiosity got the better of me.
If you don't know, you ask.
Unfortunately, an unpopular user like me doesn't get many replies.
What's the issue?
No way it's the "(Skeleton Question)" in the title, right?
Just a hunch, but I feel like I got more replies when I posted normally...
Luckily, before my impatience bottomed out, someone replied.
"..."
The Human Hunter replied.
Thanks, but this guy... still kinda creeps me out.
Maybe skip commenting on my posts next time.
But this reply had a point.
This psycho actually bought a lottery ticket.
His proof was the opener for his "Lottery Series" posts.
Surprising, really.
This guy who only posted murder proofs is now writing about the hottest topic.
His action-hero antics were already infamous from the Demian04 incident, but suddenly doing something wholesome like this? Probably tied to that Christmas tree fiasco a while back.
Not IAmGesus level, but after seeing that tree decked in curses, the Human Hunter posted a complaint-laced rant.
He seemed pretty shocked by the curse-laden tree.
That convinced me he's a true psychopath.
Whatever the cause, the Human Hunter's lottery series quenched the info-thirst of me and other users far from Seoul.
The Hope Lottery looked shockingly like the old lotto.
Except with 44 numbers instead of 46, making odds way better.
You can't buy it with cash—it's given out with wages to those who complete the required national labor quotas. Drawings every three days at district office venues.
Lucky bastard—the Human Hunter even proved his prize TP.
Unlike my hoarded embossed fluffy stuff, this was rough newsprint crap that'd irritate sensitive skin, in ugly colors. Total shit paper.
But in supply-starved Seoul, even junk like this trades for a few meals.
Higher prizes ramp up: sugar, rice, stockpiled oil, even luxuries like smokes, booze, meds.
The grand 1st prize? Quintessential Korean trophy.
An apartment.
With ruins everywhere, who wants one? But nah, not your average dump.
The Human Hunter attached a photo.
His post was gold info, but barely any comments—except for that final pic.
The rendering showed an apartment complex styled like that chaebol fortress everyone gawked at before—concrete walls encircling tight clusters of buildings, central farmlands and workshops, sports fields for soccer and basketball, a hall for events smack in the middle.
Like the chaebol house, but swapping the mansion for multiple apartments and the mini-golf for fields. Scale? Thousands of times bigger, for thousands of residents.
Community verdict: thumbs up.
To the point where some renounced our long-held doomer faith.
Bunker living does suck.
Cold winters, hot summers.
Humid, smelly, endless bugs, cramped, no windows.
That's why I keep slipping outside for air—no matter how nice I make it, a bunker's still stifling.
Mine's expanded into an underground empire through hard work. Imagine standard-issue ones...
Anonymous337's suicide had multiple factors, but bunker stress took a big chunk, I'd bet.
Meanwhile, my take on the hot "The Hope" apartment?
Question mark.
No reactions as usual, but someone liked it.
Anyway, the Human Hunter's little bomb rippled through us doomers' hearts in our own ways.
Turns out this creep's actually capable of real work.
Gives me chills.
A week after the Human Hunter's Hope Lottery series wrapped, a post hit the community and skyrocketed to popular status.
"What?!"
I felt massive self-loathing watching it climb in real-time.
My chaebol tale with Chairman Je Phong-ho barely hit popular at episode 3—and honestly, I fudged views with infinite clicks. About 100 bumps from yours truly, Park Gyu!
Viva! Apocalypse!'s founder Melon Mask didn't seal self-viewing, so it worked.
But this new popular post? Pure organic.
Everyone commented, likes poured in.
Popularity free-pass.
Bittersweet envy as I clicked.
"Ah."
Yeah, that's clickbait-worthy.
Savoring defeat, I read on.
-Saw Defender's post, left my bunker for national labor. Went to Jungnang-gu; pissed when military cops demanded entry fees like bandits, but lottery fever got me mixing with non-doomer trash at city hall square, slaved away for a spot, got my ticket.
Lucky draw that day right at the square. Results below!
m9.
This sloppy, chaotic nick's owner hit 1st prize in Seoul's official Hope Lottery.
Government-granted right to live in their hyped futuristic complex.
Means ditching solitary bunker poverty for airy new apartments in a near-chaebol haven.
Winner was pumped.
No need to read between lines.
Ecstatic.
Textbook nobody striking gold after a lifetime of zilch.
But this guy...
Changed weirdly right after winning.
Now he's bashing our ways, leading the charge against fellow doomers.
I'd known him a bit, but he wasn't a prolific or edgy poster.
Get the joy, but it's awkward.
So I chimed in.
Wasn't just me—my advice sparked others piling on.
Our lottery winner ("m9") didn't stop.
m9 kept spewing near-curses at us.
Birth of a new forum villain.
Our board buddies didn't sit idle.
Blocks and ignores.
Community sanctions for disrupting board order.
The Human Hunter—once blocklisted by masses but now a named asset for his weird utility—dropped a curt line on m9.
m9 didn't reply.
Scared to die, probably.
This guy's no homebody killer—he does expedition hits, cosplays normal, infiltrates Seoul for labor just to snag TP. Gotta fear that.
But m9? Good memories for me.
I know him.
Early John_nenon fan club member.
One of the rare 20-somethings.
He won't remember me, but I do.
Recalling him grilling meat at that sketchy BBQ joint, I grabbed my K-Walkie-Talkie.
Connect to personal ID: DARAM?
One-on-one via personal IDs.
Apocalypse perk for the assigned.
"Senior reaching out first? What's up? No gigs now. Front lines got spots galore, overflowing."
Faint jazz drifted over the radio.
His side's scenery and air must be worlds apart.
"Got a question."
Asked about the apartment.
I bothered this annoying junior 'cause I doubt it'll ever get built.
Chaebols downgraded to tigers, no construction firms left.
Even if they muster workers, materials? Fully self-sufficient systems for thousands? For thousands of units, not a dozen elites?
Gov handing out lotteries like this feels fundamentally twisted.
"Hope..."
I pictured Kim Daram exhaling smoke.
"Just a mirage."
She's probably gazing at the ruins outside.
A city that's lost now and doomed to lose tomorrow.
Short silence, then her shallow sigh and another fact.
"We're heading to Jeju. Full withdrawal by next spring at latest."
Right then, a transport roared overhead, shaking my bunker loud.
"..."
One nagging doubt cleared.
"Don't tell anyone. Top secret."
Kept her request, of course.
My secret alone.
I did what I could.
DM'd m9 direct.
My thanks for his old diligence flipping meat.
Reply came quick.
Good intentions don't land straight.