Chapter 260
Chapter 260
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 260
Chapter Title: 106. Return
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The flight plan was to head from Jeju through the South Sea to the West Sea, skimming along the coast before switching to land routes around the Chungcheong region and dropping me right at my territory.
By "dropping," I meant literally parachuting out of the plane.
This was nothing like the stealth aircraft from before—one that could land smoothly on a short runway and even fool outdated radars. No, this plane was old, slow, and a nightmare for takeoffs and landings.
Woooong—
I gazed down at the endless ocean, the engine's low rumble vibrating through my body.
Suddenly, memories of old friends from our message board flashed through my mind.
There were the doomsayers who'd pinned their hopes on the sea.
The most famous was some overseas user who'd turned a superyacht worth a trillion won into a bunker.
Our board was a hangout for guys with some financial cushion, but that "Yacht Guy" was on another level entirely, so he stayed in people's mouths for ages.
But when the war actually broke out, Yacht Guy vanished without a trace. Never posted another update.
Most users figured he'd been betrayed on his luxury yacht and fed to the sharks, but some speculated he was just bragging for attention and never had any real bunker plans. That take got a lot of nods.
I leaned toward the latter, but objectively, survival rates for a sea-based life weren't great.
Take that uninhabited island idea someone once asked me about.
Just tallying up how many times Goryeo-era pirates raided the Korean Peninsula might kill any courage for that choice.
I'd seen a few folks living modestly along the coastlines, but they weren't really "at sea"—more like on land similar to ours, nothing too different.
In Europe, someone talked up surviving in a submarine, hyping it big-time to draw sponsorships, just like those loudmouths who stir up drama for attention. As far as I knew, it never happened.
Point is, sea life didn't mesh with the apocalypse.
Yet human tenacity never fails to amaze—it's always stubbornly clinging on.
"Park Hunter, take a look over there."
The pilot was one of the few in Jeju who called me "Hunter."
Sure, he had gripes about the Jeju away government forcing a tough life even on a skilled pilot, but hey, at least he called me Hunter.
I looked where he pointed.
"What’s that?"
Something massive floated on the sea.
Not natural—straight lines and sharp angles screamed man-made.
The plane descended.
"You okay with this?"
Dropping altitude meant getting more vulnerable to anti-air fire.
"It's fine. Just wanted you to see it, Park Hunter."
As we got lower, the massive artificial thing revealed itself.
"Is that a ship?"
Ships. Dozens of big and small ones clustered together, forming a little floating island.
"What is this?"
"Refugees trying to get to Jeju."
"For real?"
Not everyone died after all.
I remembered hundreds of thousands heading to Jeju, only to be abandoned by China or sink at sea.
The pilot said he'd been there for it.
He closed his eyes, reliving it.
"Even after the rejection notice, a few ships bulldozed into the harbor. They figured brute force would work, like back in the war days. But warships opened fire. The ships pushing in anyway went up in flames and sank. People aflame plunged into the sea. No one saved them."
He spoke flatly, but imagining the horror wasn't hard for me.
I'd seen similar scenes in Shanghai plenty of times.
"Once the government got tough, the watching fleet finally turned tail."
"Where'd all those people go?"
"Not enough fuel to head back to land, so they pooled it into a few big ships and sent them to the mainland, from what I heard. The stragglers on the abandoned ships lashed them together into that scrap island."
The plane flew low over the ship-island.
Not many people visible on deck, but I spotted signs of life easy enough: fog condensers like at Woo Min-hee's base, solar panels, even little farm plots on the ships.
"How many live there?"
"At least a thousand."
Sure enough, as we passed, people popped up all over the ships.
A bunch aimed guns at the sky. Not too friendly to outsiders, apparently.
Gazing at the bizarre island, a thought struck me.
If even a few ten thousand made it back, as the pilot said, word would've spread somehow.
Back then, Jeju news was basically paradise rumors everyone craved.
"Never heard anything about a refugee fleet returning. If they hit land, rumors would've flown. You might not feel it in Jeju, but two or three years ago, everyone's talk was Jeju."
As the scrap island faded behind us, the pilot gave a wry smile.
"Local warlords aren't that forgiving. Think about it. Even feeding locals is a struggle—then tens of thousands extra mouths show up at once. What would you do?"
Harsh, but it made sense.
"Heard some got taken by mutations. Ever seen a whale mutation?"
"Yeah, spotted one coming here over the sea."
"Sea mutations are way deadlier than land ones. Can't hunt 'em like whaling ships anymore. Planes might work, but cost-effectiveness is key."
The plane kept racing over the sea.
The unchanging view brought on drowsiness and boredom; I covered a yawn.
The pilot munched on snacks—egg cookies, no flour, total junk.
Flour, once cheap, now cost more than rice.
Oil could be synthetic from Korea's heavy industry hubs, but growing wheat in subtropical Korea? Not easy.
"Not scared?"
The pilot crunched loudly, asking out of nowhere.
"Huh? Of what?"
"Going back to the mainland."
He smirked bitterly.
"If it were me, I'd beg for a farm or factory posting. Even if they're a pain, better than the mainland, right?"
"You think?"
I saw it differently.
My bunker was better equipped than most, sure, but free mainland beat regulated, oppressive Jeju any day.
Raiders, mutations, monsters at night? Handle 'em yourself.
Speaking of, this pilot had some new issues.
"Heard the mainland has human meat factories."
Full of mainland biases.
I'd lived there over three years post-war; never heard of human factories.
Sure, cannibalism happened in extremes, but mass-slaughtering humans like Aztecs? In a factory? Ridiculous.
You'd need tons of mouths to justify it, plus storage for all that meat.
That kind of setup and power? Better for safer, efficient food production.
Unless you're a human-flesh fanatic who won't eat anything else, and there are hundreds like you. Then maybe a business case.
"They say young women are sex slaves, old or ugly ones get crossbowed."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Read it in broadcasts, intranet survivor logs. Filcrum88's Apocalypse Delinquents had similar stuff."
Apocalypse Delinquents.
I read it—less a labored masterpiece, more lazy action flick churned out for Jeju art gigs.
Protagonist, your standard "I'm just a normal guy," slays delinquent thugs one by one in the apocalyptic mainland.
Remnant, carrying Dragonseed's legacy, serialized briefly then abruptly ended.
"Not that bad."
No matter how rough, it's not total hell.
Overflowing with gruesome deaths, misfortune, misery—but where humans live, it's not so different.
Even King City under that Sejong thug boss: ordinary folks thriving disgustingly vigorously in their corners.
"They say rifts are closing soon. Already endgame, and with Savior Na Hye-in back, closure speeds up."
The pilot's face hardened, rambling unprompted.
Suddenly, the plane banked sharply.
"Chungcheong airspace now. Detouring around Chinese bases."
The plane bucked wildly for a bit.
Turbulence from the turn.
Even I, numb to monsters, fear the uncontrollable unknown of a plane.
Fear stems from helplessness.
As the fuselage steadied, the pilot sighed.
"They're recruiting mainland hopefuls."
"Mainland hopefuls?"
"Yeah, straight-up sending people there. Government says voluntary, but... I dunno. Feels forced to me."
His expression told me why he brought it up.
He was on the danger list—someone Jeju wanted gone.
Pilots were specialists, but no WWII-style pilot boom, and planes had too many issues to fly often.
Only vets with proven skills stuck around.
Like the seasoned mid-older pilot who brought me to Jeju.
"They promise a Tier 1 settlement. How many takers?"
"Who knows."
Not my call, but I'd jump without hesitation.
"...Seriously. They hype 'rifts close and everything's fine,' then pull this backstab. Jeju government's still Korean at heart."
His simmering grudge against Jeju tied into this.
Getting booted felt like a death sentence to him.
"Where'd you live pre-war?"
I asked.
"Uiwang area."
"Uiwang? Heard of it, never been. Nice place? Livable?"
"Korea's all the same. Decent enough. Just annoyingly far from Seoul. But as a soldier, it was fine—cozy with the wife."
He chuckled.
"But if they told me to go now? Hell no. Even home's got nothing left. What's the point? Exile's sorrow needs a real home—returning to raiders, monsters, zombies? Just pathetic death."
"Mainland's livable enough."
I said calmly, meeting his eyes.
He looked back, eyes full of doubt.
"Really?"
Not seeking confirmation—pure skepticism.
Still, I had to say it.
"Of course, prep well. Bunker. Guns. Food. Fuel. Above all, a safe spot off the beaten path."
"Ah, doomsayer."
For a split second, contempt flashed.
That sealed it: pre-war, he was one of the haters bashing us.
Lucky Jeju escape preserved his naive worldview.
"Surprisingly doable."
Not my place, having fled my turf, but I'd lived both Jeju and mainland.
Jeju beat my place in infrastructure, public amenities, security.
But it wasn't mine.
Fruits there weren't from my labor—just handouts.
Handouts vanish anytime.
"I think mainland's better if you're set up."
Lots to do.
Check my turf handed to the crew, rescue Valentine, update Defender and online pals.
Track Baek Seung-hyeon since Shanghai.
Above all, Viva Bot's promised "new armband" had me buzzing.
"Eh."
The pilot stared limply below.
"To me, that's hopeless land."
Thud—
Door opened; fierce wind roared in.
"Here goes. Thanks a ton for the ride."
Drop time.
Grateful to Jang Gi-yeong for parachute training, I leaped out.
Ground rushed up.
The land people called hopeless, gray and lifeless, cradled vibrant green.