Chapter 301
Chapter 301
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 301
Chapter Title: 120. The Creator's Melancholy (1)
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Spying on someone's dirty laundry isn't my hobby.
I'm the type who expresses my likes and dislikes openly, and I keep my distance from people who don't vibe with me—like showing it on purpose.
That's different from Kim Daram.
Even so, there are folks out there that even I, Park Gyu, can't help but trash-talk sometimes.
For instance, Kim Daram.
And there are world-famous figures who get roasted on a global scale.
Among those infamous targets, our world's creator was one that anyone who'd signed up for satellite gear probably knew about.
Melon Mask.
He's a walking problem.
The unprecedented apocalypse of annihilation only temporarily clouded his true nature.
Melon Mask's infamous "meltdown" hit right as the sweltering summer faded and cool autumn arrived.
Genius and psycho. Rich lunatic. Con artist.
Those are the classic nicknames slapped on Melon Mask.
How he built his empire with brilliant business moves? Let's skip the details.
It's not that important, and it doesn't fit the apocalypse vibe anyway.
Simply put, Melon Mask struck gold with genius ideas from his college days, riding high nonstop until his mid-40s.
In the land of opportunity, America, no less.
But it wasn't just his genius ventures that made him famous.
His wild antics were a huge part of the Melon Mask package.
The most legendary? Killing off that SNS.
Pre-war, some massive SNS deleted a few of his posts for "inappropriate content."
For someone like me, it'd be a chuckle and move on.
But Melon Mask isn't that forgiving.
Over a handful of deleted posts, he shelled out trillions to acquire the platform, then methodically torched the community himself.
Like renaming it "Seggs.com"—evoking something very NSFW—plastering it with obnoxious ads that ruined the screens, or suddenly going paywall and gutting free features.
In the end, "Seggs.com"—the rebranded shell of what he bought—shuttered.
All because of some deleted comments. Trillions up in smoke.
Unconfirmed rumor, but while investors and users wailed, Melon reportedly watched the site die from a luxury yacht, throwing a lavish party.
And this nutjob created Viva! Apocalypse!.
Well, Viva! Apocalypse! showcases more of his positives—stellar creativity and execution—than the negatives.
Users like me kept laughing and holding onto hope in this little pocket world, even post-war.
Those who couldn't? Dead already.
Everyone knows Melon Mask's up in space now, bunkered with his giant sloth.
Unlike us, no erosion threats, no monsters, no raiders or plagues—just safe living.
If his space bunker's ecosystem churns out food, he might outlast even me.
Lounging as the lord of the massive Viva! Apocalypse! community.
Flat out, he's got the best luck of any human alive.
And yet.
Melon Mask could return to Earth.
One module of his prefab bunker includes a shuttle ready for Earth—fully prepped, just hit the button.
All it needs is his biometrics to access the rocket systems.
Honestly, him coming back? Fine by me.
Pre-war, maybe someone would talk him out of suicide-by-Earth. Not many left now.
Problem is, if he dies, tons of forum features could glitch out.
I never worked at his company, so no clue on specifics, but Viva Bot says his absence could be fatal to Viva! Apocalypse!'s survival.
That's why, probably.
She rarely shows, but popped into the forum, opened a public notice chat, and laid out the issue for all to see.
So, how do we save Viva! Apocalypse!?
The answer? A bit absurd.
"Huh?"
Doesn't compute.
We're killing it, then suddenly babysit Melon Mask?
Not just me—a few users echoed the confusion in chat.
...
...
Viva Bot soon replied.
Fair point.
No signs of the world improving.
Maybe his company's woes triggered it too.
But I bet what really stung that ego monster was Necropolis.
A genius made it via Valentine, and it's blowing up—way bigger than Viva! Apocalypse!.
Valentine's still chasing the mysterious creator, shrouded in veils.
That might be the real push making him ditch it all for Earth.
With that, Viva Bot dropped the bombshell request and closed the chat.
Of course, she didn't forget a private message to this Skeleton—hidden admin and Twelfthsquerer alter ego.
Tough gig, but tough means valuable.
Lately, recruiting, fortifying turf, side trips—neglected soul-nurturing time.
Everyone craves creation, art.
Not even Professor me is exempt.
I itch to create.
"Boom-chicka-boom-boom-chicka chicka-chicka choo-choo furoo chop!"
Beatboxing.
One of my rare hobbies.
This time, ditched old tricks—sucked up hot Western vids' techniques, fresh spins.
"Grr—gruk! Grr—grrreuk—grryak—grruk—grrulpba—."
Sweat beading on my forehead from the passion, when—knock knock.
"What?"
Checked hidden entrance CCTV.
Cheon Youngjae.
"Oh? Senior?"
"What're you doing here?"
"Heard some freaky noise from inside."
"Not funky?"
"Funky my ass. Thought a monster snuck in."
"······."
No point talking art with philistines.
Too many around.
"What? Skeleton?"
Now Hong Da-jung drops by.
"Beatboxing again?"
"?"
"Man, doesn't get old? Thought it was a gimmick, but you're for real."
"Why're you here?"
"Can't I visit?"
"······."
"Don't pout over that. Saw the board? Viva Bot's notice chat log?"
Hong Da-jung just caught the notice.
"Yeah. I know."
"Prepping anything?"
"Nah. Nothing."
"Hm. We're gearing up too."
"What?"
"Mgu's apartment tour."
"Mgu?"
"Melon digs Mgu, right?"
Did he?
Yeah, mentioned the name.
But Mgu never DMed Melon direct like me.
"Mgu hasn't posted in 10 days. Feels like he'd survive anything but that collapse. What if it really fell?"
"Not impossible. How to check?"
"Drone flyby. Airfield nearby? Big one. Ha Tae-hoon's on board."
"That monster drone before?"
"Couldn't lug that—over 500kg. Not that huge, but mid-size needs runway, stable, long range, good cams."
Feelings soured on Hong Da-jung lately, but her fired-up chatter? Glad I brought her.
Cute, and most of all.
"For Melon Mask?"
She beamed, nodding at my question.
"He's our boss, weird or not."
She cares for the board.
Not 100% pureblood user, but 98% glory.
Respect.
"Skeleton prepping anything?"
"Me?"
"Yeah. You never miss events."
What to say?
I'm Surprise Party.
Love shocking folks.
If old beatbox was frog-in-well, now I've sponged top North American pro tech, remixed my own.
Past me ≠ now me.
"Dunno. Mulling."
"I see."
Da-jung scratched her chin, nodding.
As she bounced out light-footed, she glanced back.
"You're not posting beatbox, right?"
"?"
"Better not."
Hong Da-jung pleaded, then left the bunker.
"······."
People misunderstand me.
Professor's super rational, quits fast.
But quitters don't summit.
I've got stubborn streaks.
Lines I won't cross.
Channeling oppressed creator rage, dropped ace performance on Viva Bot same day.
"?"
Reaction seems iffy.
"······."
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