Chapter 21
Chapter 21
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 21
Chapter Title: Theme Park (1)
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I once read a post saying that among the nightmares Korean men had before the war, the ones about reenlistment were the most tormenting.
For me, it was always loans.
True to my status as a deadbeat debtor, I dreamed of endless debt collection notices piling up—the ones that stuck with me the most.
Payment orders, default judgments, summonses, hearing notices, verdicts, asset disclosure orders, foreclosure notices, and so on. My fan mail came in all varieties.
I don't really want to imagine the future if the war hadn't broken out.
No job meant personal bankruptcy was off the table, so it probably would've ended in straight-up bankruptcy.
To be honest, when I first heard war was coming, I was a little... glad.
Apocalypse doesn't bring only negatives for everyone, at least not for guys like me.
Some even found the energy they'd lacked before in this new chaos—and for a few, even the meaning of life.
My one and only internet friend, the Human Hunter, was a fish who could only swim freely in the muddy waters of disaster.
The day Kim Daram mocked my hideout, the Human Hunter messaged me right on schedule.
I'm not great at paying debts, but I keep my promises well enough.
For the sake of my reputation in the community, I had to follow through.
I debated transportation but settled on my trusty cargo bike.
Quiet, disposable if needed.
If I'm ambushed properly, I'm dead either way.
No mutations around, so slow and silent is best.
Bought it cheap secondhand on Carrot Net planning to ditch it quick, but this thing's worked harder than anything.
Life's full of surprises.
Before heading out, I oiled the chain, pumped the tires, and loaded the ammo crate.
Weapons were my usual light loadout: a rifle and pistol mag each, two axes.
Unlike usual, I wore the bulletproof vest underneath.
Rifle rounds would punch through anyway, but better than nothing.
According to Defender's intel, three main danger zones ring the rendezvous area.
First: Monster territory.
From the Human Hunter's description, these weren't wanderers—they were sedentary, rooted in place. Harmless unless you enter their turf.
Second: Zombie-held zone.
A horde had taken over an abandoned apartment complex, gone dormant. Patrols still roamed, hunting stragglers.
But it's southwest of the meet point, off-route and far, so low real threat.
Third: Everywhere else.
Yeah. The real danger: humans.
Even the Human Hunter couldn't pinpoint where they'd be or how they'd strike.
Unlike monsters or zombies, humans shift positions, adapt tactics, set traps.
Still, he mapped ambush hotspots and raider territories—prime info.
His long message detailed spots and groups to avoid.
Especially clothing.
Preparation cuts risk—as always.
The dangerous trip was boringly smooth.
Midway, night's veil draped the decaying land.
From a riverside embankment, I spotted ghostly grayish lights illuminating abandoned streets.
Monster turf.
These invasive species aren't here to kill humans outright.
They slowly reshape their territory to mimic home.
Humans? Just obstacles.
Darkness hid me as it did them—no ID on type, but confirmed sedentary.
No human raiders either—not a single one on route.
Passing three ambush spots, I found only wrecked cars, debris, charred corpses.
Threat came from nowhere.
Zombies.
The off-route horde was swarming nearby.
No sight, but their eerie chorus under pale moonlight hinted at numbers: at least a hundred.
Woken from dormancy?
I crept silently onward.
No radio pre-agreed—too many folks and factions here; it'd just broadcast my position.
With personal IDs, we could've used secure channels. Only I have one.
Instead, precise meet spot and time. He even sent a photo.
A massive Ferris wheel, tilted like Earth's axis, leaning against a giant fir tree.
Approaching the theme park, I scanned for matching trees.
There.
Angle made it jut out, not lean, but identical under moonlight.
No one around.
Weapons drawn, I advanced slow.
Senses open, ready for anything.
Then—presence.
Human.
Behind the tree.
Heart quickened.
Finally meeting him?
The forum's wild child, Human Hunter?
Wonder what he looks like.
Might be surprisingly kind-faced.
Appearance means nothing to nature.
But this breathing...
Too faint for a man.
A shadow emerged, shock rippling through me.
A woman.
Long-haired, pale skin like moonlight.
Strikingly attractive, eyes mixing curiosity and fear as she watched me warily.
She waved awkwardly, greeting.
I raised my pistol behind her instead.
"Come out."
One more.
Click.
"I said come out."
Edge of vision: she twitched.
"Don't move."
Aimed axe in right hand at her, warning.
Bushes rustled.
"Whoa."
Young man's exclamation from the brush.
Black shadow leaped out, hands up, stepping into moonlight.
Tall, handsome, grinning at me.
"First time anyone's dodged our trap."
I backed up slow, keeping both in sight.
"John_nenon?"
He smirked.
"Nah, why name-drop that loser? Hurt my feelings. I'm Defender."
My eyes flicked between them.
He smiled; she looked away.
"Both of us. She posts most, but it's my account."
"What?"
I stared at her.
Her?
The cynical commenter, murder-poster with zero humanity?
Doesn't fit.
Face looks sweet.
Can't judge by looks.
He glared at her averted gaze.
“My sister’s a hamster in real life, but Lu Bu online. I post when I’m bored too—mostly comments.”
"...So that's it."
Human Hunter revealed: not one, but two. Siblings.
Mid-twenties, well-fed, stable.
"We introduced ourselves. Your turn?"
No corpse stench—just burned herbs.
Stoic, short reply.
"Skeleton."
Shouldn't have come.
Regret hit; I nodded at the bike.
"Ammo's there. Take it."
Why?
Two people? Not what I pictured? Overly chummy vibe?
Nah, got it.
Their style hit too close to bad memories.
Pretty young woman distracts; man ambushes.
Common in demonized China.
Not my team, but a hunter buddy got beheaded—head on a lamppost.
Not judging ethics.
Just hated the repeat.
"Why so guarded?"
He glanced back while moving ammo.
She watched me arms crossed.
Finally relaxing, she pulled something rolled, lit it.
Herb smoke, not cigs.
Explains the scent.
"Wanna come in for tea?"
He asked casually, shifting ammo to cart.
"Nah, gotta go. You head in first."
"Why so guarded? We're friends, right?"
"..."
"Why the silence?! Skeleton, disappointed in us?"
I nodded.
"...Why?"
Both asked, shocked.
Truth: hate their faces. Can't say it. Need tactful words.
As I racked my brain, a creepy wail rode the wind.
"Mom... Mom... Waaah."
Not ghosts.
Kids crying.
Two, under ten, desperately calling parents.
Fits the theme park below, but not now.
"Skeleton."
Male Defender got serious.
Female already gripped the cart.
"Come to our place quick."
"What's up?"
"Those bastards."
First real killing intent from him.
"Why I need bullets."
Defender's base wasn't a bunker—a rundown mansion midway up the mountain overlooking the theme park.
Mansion, really.
Worn and decayed, but standalone house, warehouse, garage—luxury specs.
Explains going full massacre over hiding.
Small plastic greenhouse steamed up under moonlight—couldn't see plants.
Female Defender eyed my fancy box nervously.
Still wary, but curious stares.
"...Skeleton. What's that?"
Timid question.
"This?"
Kim Daram's premium snacks.
Brought half-eaten leftovers as gift to boost rep.
But real Defenders shattered my image.
Extra mouth too.
Planned to take back solo, but invite changed that.
"G-Gift..."
Reluctantly handed to her.
She opened, beamed at me.
"Skeleton!"
Genius genuinely thrilled.
"..."
I dodged her gaze.
Scanned the house.
Unlike my bunker, wide open hall felt refreshing.
Rich people vibes.
Money traces everywhere.
Still, apocalypse rot showed: crumbling patches.
Male Defender brought steaming tea.
"Oh."
Grinned at snacks.
"Skeleton! Real man's man. I approve!"
"..."
Silence; she whispered to him.
"My sister asks why you're such a scaredy-cat, unmanly."
"?"
Who's she calling who?
Glared; she looked away innocently.
Sighed, spoke.
"What's with the kid crying?"
The point.
That drew me here.
"Tea first."
Siblings sipped.
Sniffed: premium aroma, not my bunker iced tea.
Didn't drink.
Never take what's offered blindly.
Apocalypse etiquette.
They devoured my snacks greedily though.
Couldn't lose; grabbed one, nibbled—sipped tea unavoidably.
Delicious.
Perfect match.
Maybe trust internet pals more.
Regretting, eyeing empty box; he spoke.
"Pioneers."
"Pioneers?"
"Like the ones camped by Keystone's. Same breed."
"Yeah?"
"But way lower quality."
Flicked fingers at sister.
She opened laptop, showed screen.
Phone pic: armored car, middle-aged guys with guns, awkward poses.
Nothing special—then red pants. Two kids squatting under vehicle.
"This?"
He sneered coldly.
"Beggars."
"Beggars?"
"Use kids to wail, lure bunker moles out."
Mimed throat-slit.
"Steal everything, kill. Men dead, women raped, kids for next beg."
"Scum."
"That's why we kill 'em."
Human Hunter grinned white-toothed.
His murder-talk face? Pure joy. For some reason.