Chapter 305
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 305
Chapter Title: 123. Message from the Dead (1)
Early in the morning, I suddenly got a call from Woo Min-hee.
"Hey, sunbae. Just calling to give you some special info today."
Out of the blue, she contacted me and shared some unexpected intelligence with us.
"They're predicting another massive cold snap this winter too. I don't know the exact reason, but according to sources in Europe, it might be related to that rift in the Arctic. Huh? Why share this suddenly? Can't have you freezing to death before I do, right?"
Woo Min-hee's forecast could be wrong.
But we knew how terrifying winter could be.
At least in Korea, cold snaps had killed more people than wars.
To be precise, wars destroyed infrastructure, and people trying to survive amid the ruins couldn't make it through the winter.
The seasons were now shifting from summer to fall.
The daytime weather still felt like summer, but you could sense autumn's arrival in the subtle yet unmistakable changes nature was showing everywhere.
Thanks to Melon Mask creating the Unified Popular Posts Board - Global! Apocalypse!, users from countries around the world, once scattered, could now interact more conveniently and actively.
The satellite photo he shared showed the Arctic shrouded in thick clouds that reminded me of fog.
For some reason, that gray mist gave off the same vibe as what I'd seen in Jeju.
His opinion drew a ton of attention and agreement from users.
Everyone had suffered through those winters.
But when asked if the changes over the Arctic were really causing the extreme cold snaps of the past two years, the poster couldn't give a solid answer.
Proving a link between the Arctic fog and current weather shifts didn't look easy, but there was plenty of malicious pushback too.
Especially from people who identified with global warming to a paranoid degree—they tore into the Dutch survivor.
According to them, even these cold snaps were just one symptom of global warming.
I knew nothing about meteorology and had zero interest.
To me, weather was just tactical data provided by the specialist team.
But the blind hate pouring onto that Dutch guy? Eh.
Since the rifts opened, so many things we'd boasted about and trusted implicitly had been rendered meaningless in the simplest ways.
I trusted what that Dutch user was saying.
The cold snaps would repeat.
Our group's prep for the coming one wasn't bad.
We had plenty of food and gear, and since we got the info now at the end of summer heading into fall, we had time to prepare.
But was that enough?
Was it enough for just Viva! Apocalypse! users to know?
We'd known from the start, when we signed the contract and paid the monthly fee, that Viva! Apocalypse! was a network for apocalypse survivors.
In fact, us barbarians had way lower mortality rates than outsiders.
Even in the apocalypse, info was king.
That's why I'd picked a bunker spot at a safe distance from Seoul—to get advance warning on threats individuals couldn't handle alone.
Until now, just surviving solo had been enough.
But watching people dwindle and empty spots pile up wasn't fun.
People were necessary. Folks we could talk to and connect with, like us.
This shift in thinking was probably the biggest change in me compared to pre-apocalypse.
Probably some guy who'd killed off old users and looted their gear, but he still had this chosen-people vibe.
Did logging into our board make him feel special?
The positive response to my idea came from one of our old-timers, surprisingly.
That raccoon bastard.
Didn't you block me?
What was his angle?
Obvious, really. His rep was tanking lately, so he was pretending to do good for PR.
I debated deleting the comment for three seconds, then left it.
Intent aside, he was right.
I wanted as many people as possible to survive this winter.
The issue was how to spread it.
Our comms were limited to K-walkie-talkies, Defender's radio gear, and satellite internet.
The Jeju radio was off-limits anyway—we couldn't use it freely.
Relaying info to far-off strangers with that wasn't easy.
My ideal? Viva! Apocalypse! users everywhere taking the lead, telling folks in public frequency range directly about the cold snap.
A chain of good influence, or something.
I knew it sounded like wishful thinking from someone with flowers in their head.
Try doing good and you might get detected, losing your bunker—or your life.
That's why even someone who could spam ten posts a second hesitated.
Frustrated, I asked for advice on the English board.
It had way more users than ours, so more experts.
I posted this via auto-translate:
My posts never got comments, so I didn't expect quick replies, but they came fast.
I replied instantly.
Right.
North America had Necropolis, a network for everyone.
I'd thought of it before, but it wasn't second nature, so it slipped my mind.
The catch? Necropolis only served North America.
Korea hadn't gotten that lifeline yet.
We needed another way.
I posted again on the English board.
No replies, as expected.
The internet mattered, but facing daily reality head-on was more important.
To prep for winter, we focused on securing food.
The most immediate was the rice I'd planted and tended myself.
Despite a few crises, the rice stalks I'd sown and nurtured stood tall amid the weeds, now bowing their heads, ready for harvest.
I looked over the golden fields ripening with Cheon Young-jae.
"Whoa, this is legit. How'd you pull this off?"
It wasn't a huge amount.
With our growing numbers, it was nowhere near enough to feed everyone.
Just enough for a special treat—a few days' worth.
But fresh, steaming rice would give the team more than nutrition; it'd boost morale.
Any Korean would feel nostalgic for rice.
Two big things for winter: food to last, and firewood to stay warm.
Firewood was key, but they went hand in hand.
Our food stores were actually plentiful.
Enough for this winter and next.
Not just my stockpiles—the new folks brought plenty too.
Even Cheon Young-jae, who'd shown up with just a backpack, joked most of it was food.
Defender siblings had the least food ratio, but with their "raid houses or kill for it" mindset, shortages probably weren't a big deal.
Hey, at least they don't eat people.
Anyway, even with abundance, I wanted to save preserved stuff as a last resort.
Right now, that meant pemmican.
Plan was to smoke meat into preserved winter rations.
Cranberries were gone, but so were my picky tastes.
I could stomach meat with a bit of gamey funk now.
"Not yet."
Hong Da-jung's drone hovered overhead.
She was useless outside drone piloting, so this suited her.
It contrasted sharply with Bang Jae-hyeok's mom, who never stopped, improving our quality of life with small crops and sides.
When she first joined, I figured she was baggage for her son, but her innate diligence made him seem like the add-on.
Anyway, Hong Da-jung was drone-hunting mutations right now.
Early war days, eating mutations was unthinkable, but three years proved they were decent food.
Dunno why, but mutated animals tasted better than normal ones.
I hadn't tried, but folks rated the cat meat from before as fine.
Even Jeju filled beef shortages with mutations.
If Jeju ate it, it was good enough.
Problem: mutations weren't easy prey.
Hunt difficulty aside, if they avoided humans on purpose, no dice.
Like whale mutations wrecking the seas—humans couldn't touch them.
Even the black one prowling our turf had been a pain.
But we confirmed a mutated boar herd south.
Luck out, and we'd score bulk fresh meat.
After the day's work, back in the bunker, I booted the laptop.
"Hm?"
A notification.
Someone commented on my post.
No way it was that early morning one.
I wasn't hopeful.
English board wasn't full of sages.
It had as many randos and trolls as ours.
Like the human leather craftsman villain who popped up post-war there too.
Anyway, I stripped off my shirt and checked.
Yup, zero substance.
"......"
Tap tap.
Confirmed auto-translate, then headed to the shower.
After, I climbed down the ladder, grabbed my private coffee milk from the underground fridge, and chugged.
"Mmm~."
Perfect skim milk powder to coffee mix ratio—heaven.
Fatigue melting away, I sat back at the computer.
A message.
The same guy.
Nothing else to do, so sure.
Probably some trivial banter to unwind the day's stress.
The moment I hit send, the screen went black.
A stark white message appeared in the void.
Message from Deadman_working: Are you Twelfths Square?