Chapter 291
Chapter 291
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 291
Chapter Title: 118. Stories (1)
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Korea has all sorts of annual events.
Typhoons are one of them.
I'd started sensing it a few days earlier.
Thick clouds blanketed the sky without a gap, light rain fell and stopped intermittently, and gusts of wind occasionally tore through the mountains and fields.
These were the telltale signs that always came before a typhoon.
The clincher was Woo Min-hee posting on the forum about a powerful typhoon approaching.
The weather service was kaput, so no supercomputer predictions, but based on satellite imagery of its size and path so far, it was heading toward the capital region counterclockwise at the strength of that infamous "Cicada" typhoon.
Alert level: red.
Having endured the terror of natural disasters firsthand multiple times, I called everyone together—without exception, even Darami—and issued work orders.
The excavator rolled out of the garage after a long hiatus and tore into the earth, while the mini bulldozer hustled the piled-up dirt out beyond the outer walls.
It was such a massive operation that anyone passing by outside would spot it for sure, but we had no choice but to do the work.
On the day the typhoon hit, I had everyone hunker down in my bunker, the safest spot.
Even Cheon Young-jae, who always slept outside, set up his sleeping bag inside my bunker. The situation was that dire.
As soon as the typhoon made landfall, I chewed a caffeine capsule and pulled an all-nighter.
Keeping watch on where rainwater pooled and where it flowed from there.
I stared wide-eyed at the streams heading toward the drainage ditches we'd dug in advance, and whenever they veered off course, I grabbed a shovel to dam them with dirt piles and redirect the flow.
I didn't hold back on the excavator either.
"Damn. It's pouring like hell."
The forecast was spot-on.
Rain hammered down like the sky had sprung a leak.
Reminiscent of last year's deluge.
But unlike last year, with reliable comrades at my side, I figured we'd pull through without too much trouble.
Around 2 a.m., as the rain let up a bit, I took my comrades' urging and headed into the bunker first to rest.
Careful not to disturb anyone sleeping, I threaded my way between sleeping bags and descended to the second floor.
I place extreme value on privacy, so I'd prepared my own little refuge on the second floor by the generator ahead of time.
The supplies: a glass of water in a bottle, several dry towels and changes of clothes for wiping down, and my laptop.
I cleaned up, slipped into fresh underwear that felt crisp and comfy, crawled into my sleeping bag, and fired up the laptop.
"......"
Tap tap tap
NoobNoCash: What gives with 304 Koreans?
I was about to type that as the title and fill it with "Korean Ginseng Corporation" when—
Lately, I'd been feeling my sense of humor sharpening.
To be precise, it was something I'd copied verbatim from a post on our forum two years back.
I was uploading my secret one-liner gag and waiting for reactions when someone knocked on the hatch.
"SKELTON. You still up, right?"
It was Defender bro's voice.
I opened the hatch and stepped out to blinding light.
Everyone was awake, gathered around the bright bulbs, sitting in a circle.
I could guess why.
Rumble!
With the storm raging on and no telling when an emergency might force us outside, they'd chosen staying awake over sleep.
"We're all together for once—let's swap some fun stories. No sleep tonight anyway. Who knows when the water might start leaking in?"
Cheon Young-jae pumped up the mood.
I figured even an hour of solid shut-eye was better, but since typhoons don't always follow my script, I joined them.
All eyes turned to me.
Leader's burden, I guess.
I was up first.
I nodded lightly and pictured one man in my mind.
"There was a great man named John_nenon."
"John what?"
Cheon Young-jae spouted nonsense, so I held up one finger.
A warning.
"......As you all know, John_nenon founded Failnet. A Hunter Academy grad, but with his innate business savvy and nose for money, he raked in a fortune. With it, he built Failnet. And became a legend. I respect him deeply and strive to be like him."
I lack the knack for spinning long yarns, and I've never had that kind of training.
Just the gist matters.
Short, but I thought it summed up the heroic life of the man who lived as John_nenon perfectly.
But my thoughts don't always match others'.
"?"
"Huh?"
"What."
The reactions around me were lukewarm.
Even my old internet pal Defender spat out an insult he couldn't just let slide.
"That guy's a scammer. Didn't he just stuff his pockets using Viva! Apocalypse! as a stepping stone?"
I was about to counter when Cheon Young-jae cut in.
"Next."
Moving on, huh.
Fine by me.
Giants like John_nenon can only be judged on a historical scale.
Anyway, the silence was dragging.
No one else had stories?
If so, defending John_nenon here wouldn't hurt.
As I mulled over a good anecdote, someone raised a hand.
Ha Tae-hoon.
"Hm?"
Weird. He wasn't much of a storyteller. What was he on about?
Still, his turn, so I watched quietly.
"Everyone know Park Penguin?"
Nods all around.
The fame befitting the head of a massive shelter.
At least among us, he outranked John_nenon.
"Honestly, the guy was a nobody, right? Early shelter leaders were mostly ex-CEOs of big corps, high court judges, university presidents—that crowd."
Shelter tales.
Not my wheelhouse.
Forum had scraps—petty gripes, fragments, personal beefs.
A few proper stories floated around, but none stuck.
Maybe 'cause I'd never end up in one.
But I knew Park Penguin well.
Not personally, but his rising fame and power? Crystal clear.
In a collapsed nation, commanding ten thousand-plus? Absolute power.
Yet Park Jin-gu—father of two, Park Penguin—was ordinary before and after the war.
Fact.
His business card on my wall attested: "Arram Iron Door Center President Park Jin-gu."
"He was in Gwangjin-gu originally. Nuke dropped there too, as you know. Outsiders died; bunker folks survived. First shelters formed by bunker units, right?"
Ha Tae-hoon scanned for agreement.
Nods, but I just stared blankly.
"......Then the usual crap happened."
Ignoring me?
He was two classes my senior, but this prof doesn't get dissed lightly.
"Hold up."
I raised my hand.
He looked over.
"First shelters formed like that?"
All eyes on me.
Not friendly.
Quick on my feet, I smoothed it over.
"Oh, right. Yeah. Go on, Ha junior."
Awkward pause, then he continued.
"Famous story. Some of you know it."
Park Jin-gu, who later became Park Penguin, was utterly average.
Wasted his youth on dumb hustles, met a compatible woman, married, had kids.
Quit a short, dirty, petty office job, inherited his dad's shop, ran a business.
War hit unprepared; he hunkered in a shelter.
Shelters crammed with randos.
Folks you'd never cross paths with: judges, docs, profs.
Pre-war respect lingered at first, but the harsh conditions eroded it fast.
Soon bullies—strong, rude, selfish—raised their voices, grabbed ration priority.
Average Joes grumbled but endured: sabotage fears, brute force, systemic limits.
Nation in chaos—no proper reporting. One citizen griped to gov, got publicly beaten by thugs for "reporting" to gov.
Jeong Won-sik was Shelter 23's tumor in Gwangjin-gu.
Ex-MMA fighter with pro wins in the US. Beast.
Started meek like others, then showed true colors: flexed muscle, especially fists, terrorized, rampaged.
His catchphrase:
"Pissed? Fight me fair. Win, I'll bow and obey."
Teen gang talk from a guy over 30, but backed up.
No one in the shelter beat him.
Shelter head—an ex-high court judge—knew but played dumb, like on the bench.
Even boss feared him? Jeong got bolder, crueler.
He assaulted an orphaned girl.
Next day, she hanged herself. Hush-hush; no one spoke.
Jeong clashed with Park Jin-gu by chance.
Park's kid playing ball; it flew near Jeong.
Didn't hit, but he called the boy, slapped him hard.
Two teeth flew; merciless.
Not enough: straddled the stunned kid, choked him laughing.
"Where's daddy? Tell him crawl out."
Park arrived after neighbor tip-off; son near death.
Park seethed but held back.
"This your brat?"
Jeong slapped Park's cheek like the kid's, provoking.
Park bowed, begged forgiveness.
"Truly sorry. Failed to raise him right."
Jeong surprised.
Parents usually charge blindly; he loved smashing them. Park didn't bite.
Bad vibe, but Jeong ignored, bullied as habit.
"Pre-war job, old man?"
"Hardware store."
"Fuckin' loser gig. Scram with your trash kid."
Park silently carried off his unconscious boy.
Murmurs; Jeong glared, yelled:
"Got beef? Step up. Fight fair. Why so chickenshit? Real man grows balls. Fight hot!"
While Jeong bellowed, Park quietly rounded up buddies.
Regular dads from public works.
Handed out ration cig packs, said:
"Jeong Won-sik. Planning to kill him."
Neighbors shocked.
Average guy like them spoke murder so calmly.
"Arram's dad, what?"
"How? He's a monster."
Park casually grabbed a floor pipe.
"Fight skill don't matter; pipe to the skull turns anyone vegetable."
Gripped it, resolute, murmured:
"I'll take first swing."
Another waved it off:
"No murder. They'll nab you. Cops exist—even if useless."
"Right. You know: they ignore threats, drag off easy marks for minor shit."
Park grinned:
"Then we look threatening, no?"
Park led:
"2 a.m."
Deaths aplenty then, but murders rare.
Defender's posts would've trended; shocked pure souls like me.
Park had that resolve.
That dawn, Jeong focused on cards; Park snuck behind, pipe in hand.
Cardmates yelped; Park full-swung without hesitation.
Clang!
Jeong face-planted.
Realized, tried rising with trained limbs—couldn't.
Pure killing intent trumps clumsy malice.
Park swung relentlessly.
Thud!
Another bone snapped.
"Urk!"
Park yelled over Jeong's scream:
"Everyone out!"
Jeong flailed; comrades piled on, lynched.
Arms, legs shattered; bones, tendons pummeled raw.
"P-please... mercy......"
Comatose Jeong begged; Park eyed cardmates calmly:
"Jeong got drunk, fell down stairs. Get it?"
Jeong died three days later.
No arrests, no charges.
But everyone knew.
Who axed the tyrant.
Who'd truly work for the shelter.
Park Penguin's first step.
"......So that's Park Penguin. Thought it was someone else."
"Template tale. Every shelter has one. Bastard getting his still thrills."
"Park Penguin looks ordinary but has guts. Thought his group spin was silly at first—worked though. Saved all the kids."
Ha Tae-hoon's story got good vibes.
Unlike my John_nenon legend.
"Hm......"
Another tale?
What story to make 'em get John_nenon's cool.
Mulling seriously, another hand up.
I eyed the new storyteller irritably.
Bang Jae-hyeok.
This guy? Dry as dust.
Tale of knee bullet? Guesses swirled as he smiled faintly.
"Everyone know Vivarium?"
Vivarium.
Self-contained ecosystem in a limited space.
"There was this huge eco-dome in Chungcheong Province."