Chapter 153
Chapter 153
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 153
Chapter Title: 74. Tyrant (5)
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"..."
He clenched his fist tightly without so much as a cheer.
He'd finally done it.
He'd clawed his way to the position he'd always wanted.
As memories of the struggles he'd endured to earn that armband flashed before his eyes like a montage, he suddenly felt the oppressive darkness of the bunker surrounding him. He'd spent three years in this silent gloom.
Completely alone, with no one by his side.
Not with any hope for the future or faith to cling to.
He'd just survived.
Unable to die, unwilling to imagine any other way of life, he'd let himself rot away here for so long.
Truth be told, what he truly wanted was something else entirely.
But that was something he could never have.
Like a flightless human yearning for wings.
If real wings were out of reach, then fake ones would have to do.
He checked the board.
Lots of posts, though he hadn't read them all.
Even skimming through with bleary eyes, the negativity dominated.
The word "rigged" cropped up in nearly every sentence, as if it were a given.
Even in the blur, certain nicknames stood out sharply.
He ignored the losers' opinions.
The vote tallies were in.
Time to check.
"...Phew."
He looked a decade younger.
Preparing those 300 spare accounts had been a stroke of genius.
If he'd stuck to Valentine's initial plan of just 10, he didn't even want to imagine it.
But why 302?
The last digit nagged at him a bit, but good was good.
He was already wearing the armband.
No need to sweat the small stuff.
Human error was inevitable, after all.
Shortly after the results posted, his top contributor to the victory, Valentine, messaged him.
He could guess the intent behind those words.
He chuckled lightly and replied.
SKELTON: This is SKELTON speaking.
Brushing off Valentine's well-wishes, he marked his debut as board manager with his first official notice.
"..."
His heart...
was filled.
*
He admitted he'd claimed the armband through less-than-honest means.
It had been a sneaky move.
But his motivation wasn't personal greed—it was for the greater good of the board.
Click.
Click, click.
He could post six messages a second.
Which meant he could delete about the same number.
No need to belabor what the current deep freeze was doing to the world.
In reaction, all sorts of lowlifes were crawling in from Failnet, cluttering up the board. Failnet had decent quality when it first reopened, but that didn't last.
Soon, the board overflowed with begging posts, making it impossible to enjoy. Only he could sweep them away cleanly and swiftly.
"...Phew."
A manager's duties didn't end there.
Among the Failnet trash flooding in were blatant prostitutes hinting at public hookups, necrophiliacs obsessively posting corpses of the miserable dead,
perverts uploading hyper-sexualized pics, and grotesque psychos posting proof of rapes, cannibalism, torture, and other unspeakable horrors.
Deleting and banning those lunatics was also the manager's job.
He'd seen every atrocity in China, so it barely fazed him—but not everyone was like him.
As the repulsive Failnet pics piled up, even rare posters vented frustration about being unable to participate.
If quiet lurkers were speaking up, something had to be done.
Someone had to clean those disgusting images from the board.
His role was that of a janitor.
Waking early to sweep and scrub until it shone, ensuring everyone could enjoy a pleasant board life.
Of course, he had no intention of strutting around or lording it over anyone.
He was just a volunteer with pure intentions.
Though he knew the negative opinions about him abounded.
Everyone suspected foul play.
Well, he hadn't been that popular anyway.
But this level of suspicion?
The relentless hostility stung even Park Gyu a little.
Rigged? Sure, it was rigged—but did they have to be so blunt? A little tact wouldn't hurt.
Still, in the corners of the board, a small band of supporters cheered him on.
He repeated: he hadn't done this for praise or special treatment. Why he'd become captain?
Because no one else seemed passionate enough to manage the board properly. If someone better and more dedicated showed up, he'd happily step aside.
He was enjoying his diligent captaincy when a message arrived.
VivaBot?
Why was she contacting him?
SKELTON: What's up, VivaBot?
"What?"
Where did this come from?
Why was this slacker suddenly working hard?
They said people die when they do things they never did before...
Anyway, one thing was clear.
"..."
His time as captain was running out.
A quick log check would easily spot those 300 sock puppets all voting for SKELTON!
Fine. Before getting booted, he'd swing his power around one last time.
Hm?
m9, you picked the perfect time to show up.
Click.
The entire board froze.
No one dared object.
Anyone dumb enough not to know who held the knife had probably died off already.
Staring at the silent board filled some dark corner of his soul he hadn't known was empty.
"...Phew."
Was this power?
Power felt good.
Why hadn't he gone into politics sooner?
Lee Sang-hun had hogged all the fun for himself.
Maybe that's why he'd died so quick.
He'd endured enough.
Up at dawn, sleepless nights manually deleting hundreds of toxic posts—and what? Rigged?
And nagging VivaBot on top of it?
They should've known when to quit.
This board needed order more than love or service.
Iron-fisted rule without mercy was the only cure for its rotten users.
Lots of complaints, all anonymous.
Fresh ones, too.
They feared his gaze that much.
But tactless idiots were everywhere.
"?"
Tap tap.
No prefix meant peak rage for SKELTON.
Dongtanmom was weird, but not clueless.
"..."
Board reactions:
He was the board's sole order and law.
No one could stop him.
After all the hardship to earn that armband.
He'd served harder than anyone even after.
Couldn't he indulge a little?
Why not push further?
When else could he try this?
Swing ultimate power before expulsion.
But his ambitions shattered right after posting.
"?!"
VivaBot's notice went up right after he lost everything.
"..."
Reflection essay, incoming.
"Sunbae~."
As he poured his soul into the reflection, Woo Min-hee called.
"Hey, Min-hee. What's up?"
No way she was griping about the live stream.
A twinge of annoyance, but he answered.
"Sunbae, got any anti-vehicle weapons or anti-tank gear at your place?"
"Huh? Why? Suddenly?"
"Heard new raiders showed up in Chungcheong Province."
Woo Min-hee, ever unpredictable.
Dropping valuable intel out of nowhere.
"They ride snowmobiles, hit isolated survivors or small groups at dawn."
"...Yeah?"
He hadn't heard.
Made sense—he wouldn't, if everyone they hit died.
No survivors to post online.
"Source?"
"One of my informants got hit. Guy feeding info from Legion turf. Killed right after contact."
"Even a frontline vet from their soldier group got taken out without a fight. Means pros."
"That's bad."
Snowmobiles hunting in -40°C hell.
Simple twist, brutally effective.
In a world where no heat means death, they targeted heat signatures.
At dawn, the worst time. Planned.
"When it warms up, got a job for you. Don't want you dying this winter. So."
"...Thanks."
He'd forgotten, blinded by the armband.
That their world wasn't forgiving.
That a moment's lapse led to death and ruin.
"..."
Still, finish the reflection.
End of Chapter 74. Tyrant (5)