Chapter 262
Chapter 262
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 262
Chapter Title: 108. Swamp (1)
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Valentine said he's holed up in a remote spot on the outskirts of Seoul—a former riverbank that's now turned into a swamp—with his "neighbors."
Here's Valentine's take on those neighbors.
For Valentine—who rarely swears or uses harsh language—to say that means they must be some real pieces of work.
He warned of potential clashes with these neighbors, and since he had a good amount of gear to bring back, I decided to take the truck.
Unlike before, I wasn't going alone this time.
My companion was Cheon Young-jae.
His combat skills were one thing, but his detection ability was key—it was the best defense against the most dangerous threat: an ambush.
"Alright, head out safe."
Ha Tae-hoon would stay behind to guard the bunker.
Even the departure time had changed.
In the past, we'd usually wait for nightfall and set out in the evening, but now we geared up and left before dawn.
With Cheon Young-jae as our lookout, if a fight broke out, daytime offered clearer visibility and easier friend-or-foe identification—putting us at an advantage.
Of course, Cheon Young-jae wasn't invincible.
"If a guided rocket like a Javelin comes flying from outside my detection range, we're toast."
Still, there probably weren't many rich enough to waste expensive guided munitions on a light truck like ours.
We followed the old highway, littered with abandoned cars and debris, toward where Valentine was hiding.
"What kind of guy is he?"
Cheon Young-jae asked about Valentine.
"Network expert."
"Network expert?"
As expected, Cheon Young-jae reacted negatively.
"Any combat experience?"
"Probably not much, and I don't plan to use him as a fighter."
"Then what's the point of bringing him?"
I answered flatly, meeting Cheon Young-jae's suspicious gaze.
"To hack the Jeju network."
"Jeju network?"
"Yeah. Punch a hole through the government intranet."
To be precise, it was dropping the hammer of judgment on the Red Archive board in Jeju's intranet.
Cheon Young-jae, clueless about my true intentions, muttered in bewilderment.
"...You're not seriously trying to snag classified info from the Jeju government, are you?"
"?"
"Y-You've thought that far ahead? Senior Park?"
"..."
"As expected of the Professor. Damn, you got me good. A random network guy with that deep meaning behind it."
"..."
"Anyway, can it be done?"
"Everything's prepped. Just need the man."
The truck pressed on toward the destination.
The nav marked it as a sports park, but no trace of a park remained now, even if you scrubbed your eyes raw.
When the war started, the Chinese military hadn't just hit major cities and strategic points with nukes—they'd also targeted key infrastructure like dams with conventional bombs.
The dams regulating the Han River basin crumbled under the assault, causing water levels to surge dramatically.
The floodwaters breached the embankments, swallowing residential areas, farmland, and walkways beyond. The submerged land had transformed entirely.
Valentine's hideout had become a swamp.
"Ah, this place. I've been here before."
Cheon Young-jae scanned the murky expanse turned to mud and marsh.
"There used to be some citizen sports park. Did wilderness training here once."
"Out here? Don't you have a dedicated range in Yecheon?"
"Handed the site over to the Ministry of Defense."
"Oh yeah?"
"You know. Our class got screwed on assignments."
Cheon Young-jae pointed toward the swamp.
"By the way, looks like someone's over there."
"Already spotted them."
A lone ruin jutted up from the swamp.
It was a chain convenience store selling 1,000-won items.
The building was half-submerged from the first floor midpoint, blasted by artillery—walls crumbled everywhere, rebar exposed.
Not an appealing spot from the outside.
Above all, that damn swamp deterred any approach.
And then...
Crack!
Zombies too.
Cheon Young-jae smashed the skull of a charging zombie with a metal club that looked like a flagpole.
"Need a hand?"
Five zombies were shambling toward us.
"Nah."
Cheon Young-jae swung his club effortlessly, clearing them out.
I always noticed it, but his close-quarters combat lacked flair.
Not that it was wrong—just felt off for Jang Gi-young's prized disciple.
"So, how do we get in?"
I looked around.
There—a road marker painted red and white peeked from the dense grass.
Searching beneath it revealed a rope.
I shook off the grotesque bugs coiled around it and hauled the rope up.
It went taut, revealing the rest of the mart building submerged in mud and swamp.
"Nice."
A small raft sat beside the rope.
Launch it into the swamp and pull the rope by hand.
That was the standard way to reach the ruin in the heart of the marsh.
Before heading out, we hid the truck.
Covered it with the camouflage netting from the bed, finished with surrounding grass.
Stepping away briefly and losing the vehicle would be a painful mistake, so it was worth the hassle.
After camouflaging, we boarded the raft.
Swish—
I pulled the rope.
While I hauled us toward the ruin, Cheon Young-jae stood guard with his rifle aimed that way.
No one in my sight, but he warned at least three were on the walls.
As the mart loomed closer, a sharp shout rang from beyond the ruin.
"Who are you? What's your business?"
A voice laced with irritation and clear fear.
Hearing it, I thought: These must be Valentine's shitty neighbors.
Staring at the unseen figures, I replied.
"A friend of Park Man-su."
Park Man-su was Valentine's alias here.
A cold response came back promptly.
"No one by that name."
I glanced at Cheon Young-jae.
We were on the same page.
I nodded, and he fired a shot into the air.
Bang!
Waiting for the echo to fade, I stared at the ruin and spoke again.
"Let me ask once more."
*
The ruin led through a crevasse split like a valley by shelling.
Cheon Young-jae already had his rifle trained ahead; I gripped the rope one-handed while holding my pistol in the other, maneuvering the raft.
A vast, water-filled interior appeared, and beyond shattered walls, three men glared at us with crude firearms.
"Senior."
Cheon Young-jae whispered, eyeing one.
The guy in military fatigues.
Late forties, maybe older. The issue was his uniform.
An old digital camo top, pockets and shoulders plastered with badges evoking a North Korean general.
Typical of old army faction grunts.
Especially frontline vets—they'd deck themselves out competitively.
Not that officers interfered.
They couldn't.
Push disgruntled troops already risking their lives on meager support, and you'd just breed mutiny.
By the front's collapse, NCOs and junior officers had attacked higher command in places, turning into warlords en masse.
One such survivor was among them.
Not terrifying, but a trained, experienced soldier warranted caution.
The others were average civilians: one mid-fifties, the other early thirties.
Malnutrition showed, but not starvation level.
Entering the building hit us with a thick stench.
Rot unique to swamps, mixed with human waste and unwashed body odor, permeating the humid air.
Not a healthy spot.
Hard to spot, low access reduced intrusion risk, but hygiene—vital for long-term survival—was sorely lacking.
I pulled a dust mask from my pocket and donned it.
Cheon Young-jae grabbed a similar one.
The raft reached the customer conveyor belt leading upward.
Under their icy stares, we ascended to the upper floor.
"SKELTON!"
A familiar voice called from a corner wall.
Valentine.
The watching men shot him cold looks.
Heavy resentment and hatred.
One snapped at Valentine in a raspy tone.
"How the hell did you contact them?"
The fifties guy.
Short, balding, scrawny, unimpressive.
Valentine didn't answer.
The thirties guy nearby spoke to him.
"Must've used that damn computer of his."
Tall, sturdy build, decently handsome, but no proper military training evident; slight limp in his left leg.
"Thank you. Now I can escape this godforsaken dump."
Valentine was clearly pissed too.
I signaled him with my eyes, and he whispered low.
"They're worthless scum. Just refugee trash. Ignore them."
Park Man-su started moving his gear.
Cheon Young-jae moved to help, but I waved him off with a look.
Park Man-su could handle it solo.
As he fetched his stuff from inside, the fifties guy approached with the ex-soldier in tow.
His displeased gaze scanned me up and down.
Then he grumbled.
"...You close with Park Man-su?"
I nodded.
"Buddies?"
I stared silently.
His intent was transparent.
I could predict his next words.
He'd badmouth Valentine for sure.
"No idea what you see in him, but that guy's got no loyalty. Always slacking off, ready to stab you in the back. Word is, he royally screwed over his last shelter too."
More concerning than his words was the skinny, short ex-soldier in uniform.
For some reason, he tucked his chin, whites of his eyes showing as he glared, fiddling with a large sword.
Swish swish—
Even showed off some weird sword-twirling trick.
What was this?
This his idea of intimidation?
Cheon Young-jae smirked at the display, pulling a coin from his pocket.
"Crane."
He tossed it in the air and drew his pistol.
Bang!
The bullet nailed the coin dead-on—the 500-won crane side, as called.
The fifties guy's and ex-soldier's faces stiffened.
No intent to mock or condemn them.
A group of men posturing a bit against another—that was all.
Our goal: extract Valentine.
The fate of these rotting souls in this stinking swamp? Irrelevant to me.
"And what do you do?"
The fifties guy asked, tone more polite now.
"Friend of Park Man-su."
I glared coldly, showing my displeasure.
Clear signal: conversation over.
Not total idiots, they backed off, whispering among themselves while we stood off.
Ignoring them, Cheon Young-jae and I watched as Park Man-su gathered the rest.
About three minutes later.
"Surprisingly crowded here."
Cheon Young-jae muttered, peering past the wall.
"How many?"
"At least ten."
"Where?"
"Inside. Clustered where Park Man-su went."
Hearing that, I figured they weren't fighters.
Probably elders and kids hidden from us.
My guess proved right soon enough.
Faces peeked from beyond the wall.
People of all ages.
Young women, middle-aged ladies, even a boy barely to adult waist height.
The fifties guy yelled at them.
"I said stay inside! Inside!"
Furious roar echoing through the vast hall.
The women and kids scurried back, but moments later, Park Man-su approached dragging a wheeled carry-on, smirking.
"Real family man, huh. Head of the household."
Said loud enough for them to hear.
The fifties guy glared daggers.
"Park Man-su."
"What?"
Park Man-su glared back from beside me.
"Got something to say to me?"
"Park Man-su!"
As the fifties guy advanced, the uniformed man restrained him.
I told Valentine.
"I get you're pissed, but no need to drag it out when we're leaving."
"Ha, those scum. Human trash."
Valentine pointed to the wall where people huddled.
"Half the folks who came here on his word are dead already, and he's blocking the rest from leaving with his cronies. Even if we all die here. If you hadn't held fire outside, they wouldn't have let us in."
Valentine added while moving gear to the conveyor below.
"He'll never admit he's wrong."
The fifties guy bellowed again.
Angrier now, he stormed toward us.
Click.
I raised my gun.
"What'd you just say, you bastard?!"
He bulged his eyes, closing in.
"Who the hell are you to know?!"
Close range.
I pulled the trigger.
Bang!
The bullet grazed his earlobe precisely.
Feeling the chill, he froze in stunned silence, then crumpled to the floor.
Cheon Young-jae and I ignored him, eyes on the remaining men with their crude guns.
Valentine glared at the dazed man on the ground.
"...Always like this."
We felt eyes on us.
From beyond the wall.