Chapter 15
Chapter 15
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 15
Chapter Title: Reverse Scale
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The location where the human hunter took that photo was easy enough to guess.
It was an open field of farmland, once golden with ripening crops before the war broke out.
This wasn't some wooded hill or forest marked on the map—it was officially registered as paddy fields, land that was rightfully mine. Digging it up and starting construction there wasn't something you could just do on a whim.
In fact, I passed through that area often and never saw any signs of construction.
The human hunter must have just stumbled across the spot by chance.
He'd made a point of hinting that he was around Gwanggyo, and the backgrounds in his endless stream of murder confirmation photos suggested he lived in some densely forested mountainous terrain.
Maybe this human hunter guy was the type who roamed around constantly?
But he didn't seem to be using a vehicle or any other form of transport.
Around the tracks left by my four-wheeler, the only thing I found was footprints from men's-sized sneakers.
The footprints headed east, vanishing into the overgrown reed beds.
But why head east, of all places?
I didn't want to know, and there was no way to find out anyway.
The real issue was his recent activity.
I'd never known Viva! Apocalypse! even had a friends feature until now.
Why?
Because I'd never received a single friend request before.
So why this guy, of all people?
Honestly, I didn't like him.
I could understand having to kill in a world where there was no choice, but the way he'd jumped straight into massacring people the moment the war started, posting confirmations like he'd been waiting for it—something about that felt twisted.
Even now that I'd unblocked him, my feelings hadn't changed much.
[Accept] [Decline]
Two clear choices stared back at me.
For some reason, I still hadn't hit decline.
*
It had been a year and ten months since the war began.
The outdoor temperature today was 32 degrees. Peak summer.
This time of year, the community was always flooded with posts cursing Korea's harsh four seasons and Dan-gun's foresight.
I wasn't afraid of summer, though.
Indoor temperature: 24 degrees.
That was the current temp in my bunker.
That's right.
My bunker had the air conditioning running.
On the table sat the assassin's pasta I'd made earlier, alongside a bowl of shaved ice topped with condensed milk and canned red beans.
Scoop a big spoonful of the shaved ice into your mouth after warming up with some pasta...
"Kuh~."
A sharp brain freeze hits, blending pain with pure bliss.
The joy of summer, I suppose.
I'm not oblivious.
I didn't post a photo of the shaved ice on the community.
If I, already hated for no reason, pulled off luxuries like this, the only ones left reading my posts would be weirdos like the human hunter!
Sure, I might be an unpopular user on the boards, but my quality of life was top-tier—no exaggeration.
No, guys living as well as me? You'd have to dig into the chaebols who'd built fortresses.
The core of my luxury life? Abundant power, above all.
Starts with the generators.
While most community users ran small gasoline or gas generators, I fired up a massive diesel one straight out of a factory.
I'd named it Skeleton Heart. It was enormous, bigger than a typical bunker, and truly the heart of my hideout.
Performance? Rock-solid.
With fuel, it churned out enough power to fill dozens of batteries in a flash and still have plenty left.
Downsides: installation cost, noise, and massive exhaust output.
Installation? Covered by buying cheap land. Noise? No people around, no problem. Exhaust, though—that headache plagued me as much as groundwater during bunker construction.
I drilled seven vents and went through dozens of trials to build a duct system.
Even so, black smoke billows from the vents when it's running.
I tried dust filters to cut the smoke, but up close, anyone spotting my bunker would see seven smoke plumes clear as day.
So I only ran it at night—especially on rainy or windy days, even if I didn't need power, to top off the batteries.
But this abundance came with conditions.
No people nearby.
Darkness hides the smoke, but the roar and ground tremors? No one in range could live through that.
Bang! Bang!
That afternoon, sniper mom and daughter opened fire enthusiastically from the south.
More shots than usual.
Some battle unfolding?
Soon my K-walkie-talkie crackled to life with noise and halting Korean.
Since the typhoon, we'd shifted from distant neighbors to a loose alliance with the snipers.
No formal handshakes, but relations had warmed gradually.
Info sharing was part of it.
A wry smile tugged at my lips as I keyed the radio.
"You two chase them off?"
No reply, but just before it cut out, I caught the faint sound of the daughter's laughter.
The sniper had flushed out refugees.
Refugees—once a community hot topic—had become rare sights lately.
In the year right after the war, many fled tough Seoul for the countryside, but most failed, and rumors spread.
With the war stabilizing and government sending hopeful signals, their numbers plummeted. None in months.
Refugees now, though?
They headed straight for my territory.
"Ah, damn it."
Irritation boiled up.
So many empty spots—why my turf?
Raiders maybe?
Armament wasn't impressive.
Most carried judge-killer homemade crossbows; few had guns.
They reached right up to my outer dummy bunker.
I killed the AC, loaded my rifle, secured two axes to my belt.
I'm no sniper duo or human hunter.
Avoid fights, hide my position—that's my strategy.
I powered up all listening and surveillance gear to track them.
"Nothing here—why'd we come this way?"
"Yeah. Isn't this nuked land?"
"That was the US base, right? Weren't we turning toward it?"
Their murmurs came through the speakers.
A man in his mid-40s, dressed in priestly military fatigues, answered.
"Highest ground here, with low hills for cover."
He scanned around, adding,
"City reclamation failed, so our goal's now the US base. Right there. But radiation lingers, and raiders might lurk like earlier. Let's camp here, scout slow. You know how rough it is around."
His name? Colonel Choi—I learned it later.
His gear and crew screamed reservist, not active duty.
All men, mostly his age.
No trained soldiers.
Clumsy moves, constant unease.
I wanted to ignore them.
But seeing tents in my territory? Things were screwed. I clicked my tongue.
Worse: one guy found the camouflaged dummy bunker.
"What's this? A bunker!"
Empty inside.
Just explosives I could detonate from the main bunker.
Half-bunker design: long slit for gun ports and observation. Defensible, not livable.
Crucially, a secret passage to my main bunker hid within.
Rifle in hand, I stepped out.
They weren't raiders—at least minimally.
They startled at my appearance, Colonel Choi included.
"Private property here."
Industrial waste nearby for cover, proper distance kept, I told them.
"Leave."
Murmurs rose.
Some showed hostility—minority. Most eyed my gun with shock and fear.
Colonel Choi stepped up.
He eyed me top to bottom, signaled his group to hold, advanced a step.
Pistol on his belt.
"Hello?"
Cheerful shout.
I nodded curtly, no words.
"Colonel Choi Hyeok-chan, reserves. Land Ministry permit to pioneer this area."
"Pioneer?"
He approached to show papers.
Rifle up—stay back. He wry-smiled, pocketed them.
"Young, but paranoid. Bullied in school? Anyway, lived here alone all this time?"
"Not chatting long. Make it quick."
"Haha. Sure, short."
His friendly laugh flipped to stern roar.
"Your land? That's history now."
"Meaning?"
"Ownership reset. Registries wiped. Outside major cities? No-man's-land. First to claim owns it."
Papers waved.
"This is the permit."
It clicked.
Why refugees were back.
Thought struck: Seoul might be worse than I knew.
"Nice setup—you some doomsday prepper? Won't touch your land. Our target's there."
Colonel pointed at the US base.
"Borrow this area till we clear it. That okay, former owner~?"
He toyed with his pistol.
I pondered.
Kill them all? Or endure?
Human hunter's kills flashed, but I shoved it aside.
"Two days, fine."
Conditional okay.
No trouble wanted; not raiders.
"Two? Short, but okay."
Thus began uneasy cohabitation.
Everything sucked, but worst: couldn't run my territory's heart.
Batteries drained fast.
Bunker heated unpleasantly; candles replaced lights.
Deadliest: freezer warming faster than expected.
Hours at most.
Precious food stocks could spoil.
No community access? Another torment.
"......"
Human hunter again.
In the dark, his request—and my non-rejection—lingered.
Colonel's crew stayed away first day, but day two? Kids exploring everywhere.
Big interest in my emergence dummy bunker.
I blocked with rifle each time, but fear fades.
Initial shock turned casual chats.
"Mister. What do you eat here? Got food?"
Freezer at -1°C when Colonel sought me.
"We're short. Spare some food?"
"Food?"
"You got it. Prepper, right? Stashed full bunker."
"Even if, why give?"
"Koreans help Koreans."
Grinned at his crew.
"Young, alone? We can take you."
Promised days passed; he ignored it.
Two days later, still lounging in my turf.
Afternoon, incident hit.
Someone knocked my main bunker's emergency door.
Entrance to passage linking twelve dummies.
"Hey, door here?"
They'd found it.
My lifeline main bunker.
"Push! Push it!"
"Heave! Ho!"
Nightmare shouts passed; silence fell. Then Colonel's voice, iron door between.
"In there~? Huh~? Beyond, right~? Face red from heat! Nom~!"
Mocking taunt firmed my resolve.
"Got something to say."
First unarmed appearance before them.
Cigarette in hand.
"Sun's brutal—hot, yeah? Wait in that bunker. Bringing booze and food. Smoke first."
Colonel grinned, casual speech.
"Should've done that sooner."
Downward glance, pressing.
"Main bunker beyond that door, huh? We know. All of it."
Drunk on victory.
Shoulder slap, deep drag on cig.
"Won't take your house. Hard prepped, obvious. We're no raiders. Neighbors at base anyway. Right? Alone? Bring family later—hook you with girls. Daughters all idols! Idols!"
His friend request ended in explosions.
I hunted survivors with my rifle.
Colonel included.
"H-how... how could..."
His death stirred nothing.
Bigger priorities.
Rushed to fire generator, power on.
Freezer chilled anew; bunker cooled blissfully.
AC-blasted, fresh cold air—I smiled, satisfied after ages.
Maybe that's why.
The human hunter seemed thrilled.
"......"
I'd forgotten for a moment.
The human hunter and I—we're ordinary folks surviving doomsday.
Not so different.
Both have our reverse scales. Touch them, we writhe.
His is just a bit more extreme than mine.
That's all.