Chapter 2
Chapter 2
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 2
Chapter Title: Thug
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Guns are probably the most efficient weapon humanity has ever created.
Especially against other humans.
It's not just about shooting and killing or wounding them.
The mere fact of holding a gun in situations where you have to interact with people or reveal yourself has the effect of restricting their actions.
You could call it a courtesy injector that humbles the other party's behavior just by possessing it.
Its offensive power against humans goes without saying.
Guns were made to kill people in the first place, after all.
People say their power is halved against monsters or zombies, and while I agree to some extent, I can't fully buy it. It all depends on how you use the tool.
In any case, guns are essential for surviving in the post-apocalypse.
As I've said over and over, humanity's greatest enemy is other humans.
But this is Korea.
In Korea, guns are hard to come by like in America, and even acquiring them is illegal.
I could go to America to prepare for the end times, but that place has its pros and cons too.
The early-game difficulty difference between a country where everyone is armed to the teeth crumbling and one where gun ownership is banned collapsing would be like night and day.
Think about those battle royale games that were all the rage once.
Where's the fun in jumping off a plane and immediately getting shotgunned?
There has to be a phase of scavenging, fisticuffs, and scrapping it out.
Of course, for me, it'd be more fun with guns from the start.
This was back when Old Man Kim was still alive.
Old Man Kim owned a single hunting shotgun.
He kept it at the police station in peacetime, but without fail, he'd pull it out during sea urchin season to show off his sloppy marksmanship.
"Back when I was in the army, see. The commie bastards infiltrated. I was hiding in the acacia bushes, holding my breath, and when one popped out from behind a tree, I nailed him right between the eyes with an anti-commie bullet!"
Later, through personal connections, I found out Old Man Kim had been in the reserves and never even participated in any commie suppression ops, but the shotgun itself was a decent weapon.
As a shotgun, it had great stopping power, and even someone unskilled could handle it adequately.
But that level of firepower wasn't enough to prepare for the future.
My eyes were always on the nearby airbase.
It was a joint base with the US military, so they had American gear, and according to the tabloids, there were even a few hunter units specialized against monsters stationed there.
Snagging hunter gear would be ideal, but what I really wanted was a bunch of ammo and a few assault rifles.
But that wasn't easy.
How was I supposed to infiltrate an airbase guarded by both ROK and US forces and make off with weapons and ammo?
My initial plan was a bit rough.
If war broke out with China, that airbase would be priority target number one.
Because the US base in Korea was right next door.
According to the Chinese war plans I'd researched, the US base next to my house was a preemptive nuclear strike target.
Once the nuke drops and the base is trashed, I suit up in my hazmat and leisurely collect guns and whatever else is useful.
That was my first rough plan.
It sounds absurd, but I thought it was the most realistic way to get quality weapons.
I could get guns through Southeast Asian gangs or Russian sailors, but the best they'd have are pistols.
But reality hit harder than expected, and as world events unfolded differently than I'd predicted, even I—Park Gyu of all people—started feeling anxious.
In a world where group chats and communities spring up for everything, there's even an online community for those preparing for the coming apocalypse.
'Viva! Apocalypse!'—a doomsday prepper community full of weirdos like me.
It's not open to just anyone.
You need the 'Galaxy Link' satellite internet gear developed by that global tycoon, Melon Musk, and a monthly fee of $100 to boot.
The fancy prep gear and hefty cost don't deter people—it's got a solid user base, with a dedicated Korean board attesting to its unique popularity.
I posted my question on the Korean board.
Replies poured in quickly, but none had any real substance.
Mostly irresponsible suggestions like raiding a police box or small military outpost with like-minded comrades to loot the armory.
Even advice from my spiritual mentor, "John_nenon," whom I usually respected, wasn't helpful.
South Korea's public safety isn't that lax.
You could probably steal weapons if you tried, but in a country blanketed with high-res CCTV at every corner, there's no guarantee you'd get away clean.
Just when the $100-a-month community I'd joined wasn't providing any sharp answers, a proposal came from an unexpected place.
"This is a bunker, right? The kind those doomsday nuts are building these days."
The suggester was Kim Wangsu, an employee from the construction firm I'd hired for my first bunker.
His nationality was Chinese—ethnic Korean from there, specifically.
Before he revealed his identity, I'd assumed he was Korean-born and raised.
He looked younger than me, dressed sharper, seemed more refined, and had that trendy way of speaking.
Unlike the other workers who tilted their heads at my request to build a bunker on empty land, Kim Wangsu showed massive interest.
"China's got tons of people like that too. Party cadres and connected capitalists are racing to build bunkers in rural areas. Way bigger and more advanced than yours, boss."
It wasn't just interest.
Kim Wangsu had considerable knowledge and insight, including Chinese intel I wasn't privy to.
"War? Eh, it'll happen sooner or later, right? Western news doesn't cover it, but the provinces around Inner Mongolia have all been devoured by monsters. Probably hundreds of millions dead, at least. The Party's desperately holding it back, but honestly, it's over. Just a matter of time."
He seemed envious of my bunker—and my ability to build it.
"You don't look much older than me, but you must've made a killing. Pouring all this gear into such a big plot."
"Hit it big on crypto."
Truth be told, I'm an ultra-conservative investor who hasn't touched crypto or even stocks.
Though I did take on some debt.
"Crypto. Whoa."
Kim Wangsu glanced around cautiously and leaned in close.
"Got any guns sorted?"
"Guns?"
"Yeah. If the world really ends, don't you need some solid firepower? Building a bunker this nice and stockpiling supplies is great, but if thugs come, you'd be toast in a heartbeat, right?"
Kim Wangsu laid on the Yanbian dialect thick, like he was putting it on.
Overdoing it, awkwardly so.
Probably showing off his connections.
Within the firm, Kim Wangsu was known as diligent, friendly, and clever—more trusted than even the ten-year vet, Manager Hong.
He was sharp, no doubt.
With nothing to lose, I started negotiating.
The results were surprising.
"Three Type 56s. 300 rounds of ammo. Three mags as service."
Three rifles and 300 rounds—a solid deal.
The price was steep, but no reason to refuse.
For the coming future, reliable guns were non-negotiable.
As bunker construction neared completion, Kim Wangsu called me out.
"Boss. Everything's ready. Let's set a date."
By then, I was wary of him.
A private investigator I'd hired revealed Kim Wangsu wasn't just some Yanbian Korean thug—he was a member of a Triad group dominated by mainland Han Chinese.
Prepped for anything, I met him.
"Hold on. My guys are bringing the goods."
In a secluded spot shielded by industrial waste, we waited in silence for quite a while.
The weather was chilly.
The air wasn't cold, but it was overcast with a strong wind.
Kim Wangsu's shady background might've added to the chill.
As the wait dragged, he kept checking his phone.
I glimpsed the screen—a cute girl who looked like him, beaming.
"Your daughter?"
"Yeah. My girl."
A faint smile and blush softened his stone-cold face.
"About seven? She's adorable."
"Haha, cute yeah, but man, she's a handful with her quirks."
He seemed to be messaging her.
A familiar messenger app with an emoticon she probably sent: a penguin tilting its head, asking when he'd be home.
He replied in simplified Chinese script I couldn't read.
Probably something like "soon."
Soon, a dump truck rumbled across Old Man Kim's land.
"Hey! What the—!"
Old Man Kim came charging out, furious, but grumbled back inside when he saw me.
Just one guy in the truck—no signs of ambush or betrayal.
"Let's do this."
As agreed, we loaded the industrial waste scattered on my land into the dump truck.
While I bustled the excavator to pile it in, his partner unloaded the real goods from the passenger seat.
It was legit.
Three Type 56 battle rifles and 300 rounds of 7.62mm ammo.
Good condition, functioned fine.
No betrayal from Kim Wangsu's crew.
Just one surprise at the end.
As he climbed into the truck after the job, Kim Wangsu suddenly hopped out and approached me with alarmingly agile movements.
"!"
I braced for a rush, hand on my hidden pocket weapon, but it fizzled anticlimactically.
"You live alone?"
For a split second, he felt menacing, but I didn't show it.
"No. My crew's coming soon."
"Ah, gotcha."
"Problem?"
"Nah, just seems like a big bunker for one guy."
"I like my space."
"A single room in a goshiwon suits me fine."
"If trouble hits, come by."
"Can I?"
"We gotta look out for each other."
Thug or not, he seemed decent at heart.
Good carpenter too, and with that grit, having him as an ally wasn't bad.
Above all, he was a doting dad.
That smile at his daughter's text was heartwarming, no matter who he was.
"Appreciate it, but I'll pass."
"Why?"
"Headin' back to the homeland soon."
"China?"
"Shanghai."
I still didn't know him fully, but when he emphasized Shanghai, I felt like I glimpsed who he was and how he thought.
Three years later, contact from Kim Wangsu.
War was looming, apocalypse all but certain.
Came on my first phone.
Unknown number.
I'd only used that phone up to three years ago, kept the plan but unused since.
Second call from the same number.
Bad vibes.
Checked the bunker CCTV—unknown vehicle in my territory.
A man out front, anxious, hand in pocket, smoking a cigarette down to the filter.
Recognition hit; I hesitated.
Meet him or ignore?
Kim Wangsu chose first.
He opened the car door, said something to the unseen interior, then sprinted toward the bunker with terrifying speed.
Axe in hand, wrapped in a leather case.
Of all things, an axe.
"......"
I called the number that rang twice on my first phone.
"Oh. Boss?"
Kim Wangsu answered friendly.
Even at full sprint, his breathing steady.
"Mr. Kim Wangsu? What's up? Sudden."
"Just saying goodbye before leaving Korea."
"Goodbye?"
"Where you at?"
I stepped out in front of him.
From afar, his usual affable, bright smile.
He closed the gap fast.
Ten paces.
Suddenly, he lunged.
Like me, an axe hidden in his sleeve—leather case flung off.
I sighed shallowly at the arcing blade.
Thud!
The axe buried deep between shoulder and neck.
Not his.
Mine.
Kim Wangsu, shocked, tried turning to see me—axe planted in him by my hand.
But his neck wouldn't obey.
Each twitch sprayed blood from the mangled flesh.
I stepped aside, releasing the axe so he could see me.
He flailed wildly.
His swing missed me by inches, harmless.
"S-soldier...?"
I shook my head.
"T-Triad?! No...!!"
"Why do this?"
I glared at the dying man, sighing.
"I could've made room for you."
His lip curled.
"F-fuck... you..."
His last words.
He crumpled; phone spilled from his pocket.
Unlocked with his still-warm face—messenger screen from before.
Couldn't read the Chinese, but the Korean emoticon was familiar.
Penguin tilting head: "When home?"
"......Hoo."
No time for sentiment.
Nuclear alert sirens wailed, shredding eardrums.
At that time, our Old Man Kim was still alive.
How long after the storm passed?
Geiger counter chirped safe levels.
Rode my stashed old ATV toward the airbase.
Just in case.
But.
"What the... fucking hell."
Couldn't help cursing.
Beyond collapsed buildings, guns and weapons galore.
No hunter gear as hoped, but this haul was a jackpot—enough for a one-man army.
My rough plan to raid a military base post-collapse was spot on.
Glanced at the vehicle Kim Wangsu arrived in.
Charred wreck, ugly sight.
Sometimes I wonder.
If I hadn't dealt with him, could he and his family have survived?
I don't think so.