Chapter 326
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 326
Chapter Title: 132. Outing
The wind had grown noticeably chillier.
Temperatures were dropping faster than usual this year.
Calling it winter already might be a bit premature, but preparing early never hurt anyone.
To survive winter, you needed ample warmth and food.
Among the DVD courses I'd stockpiled before the war, a few were bonus discs that came with textbook purchases. One was a historical documentary about the great explorers of old.
It featured Willem Barents, a Dutch adventurer from the 16th century—before even the Imjin War—who led an expedition that got stranded in the Arctic. He survived five months in temperatures averaging minus 40 degrees Celsius.
That Dutchman's harrowing tale of survival inspired me as I geared up for the harsh winter ahead.
The golden rule for winter prep hadn't changed since Barents's era: plenty of fuel and food.
I figured we had both well in hand at this point.
But we weren't explorers.
We had to endure not just this winter, but the next and the one after, right here in our territory.
And my companions weren't like Barents's crew, blindly obedient to their captain.
They respected my authority to a degree, but they were equals—each with their own personality and independence.
That's where the age-old problem reared its head: human relationships.
Our group broke down into three factions: Rebecca and her daughter, the Incheon hunters, and the Defender siblings.
We'd been living together for quite a while now, but there was no sign of them getting chummy, nor any intent to do so.
They only communicated through me.
So, we were just strangers sharing the same space.
This rift didn't cause much trouble day-to-day, but a brutal winter would change that.
We'd all have to hunker down together, not scattered like now.
Excluding my bunker, the other shelters weren't winter-ready.
Ha Tae-hoon's place might hold out okay, but the dummy bunkers where the rest lived were just that—dummies.
Built to mislead enemies trying to kill me, luring them into traps to blow the whole thing sky-high. They were never meant as real defenses.
Being half-buried like blockhouses, they'd be colder-resistant than most, but they lacked even basic ventilation, let alone heating.
We wouldn't face Barents's five-month ordeal, but conservatively estimating, they'd need a new spot for at least three months.
Hence, the winter house.
A big, spacious shelter next to my bunker, built from nearby materials.
Why build new when I had my bunker? Human relationships, again.
Even hamsters turn cannibal in tight quarters.
My crew wouldn't go that far, but sticking people who don't get along guarantees friction.
I planned a communal home with plenty of private space.
Sounds like a luxury complaint, but I wanted our group stable long-term.
The issues? Cost and time, naturally.
Not many cheered my plan.
No outright opposition, but the vibe was mostly "Do we have to?"
Current setups wouldn't cut it this winter.
If my well-prepped bunker turned freezer, those shoddy dummies and shacks wouldn't last a night.
"This winter,"
Defender proved my worries weren't unfounded.
"I think we'd be better off at the old place. It's been sitting empty, but it's a solid house."
The day we left Seoul, the siblings had heard something off from Woo Min-hee. Obvious from how Defender brooded since, and Hong Da-jeong stopped her daily radio check-ins.
"We finally banded together, and now you're bailing?"
I said that, but inwardly, it wasn't a bad idea.
If one faction dipped out temporarily, it'd cut labor on the winter house.
But first, a question.
"Defender."
He nodded, meeting my eyes.
"What'd Woo Min-hee tell you?"
He looked mildly surprised but, true to form as my loyal killer, whispered what he'd heard that day.
"Nothing huge."
He averted his gaze.
"A recruitment offer."
"Recruitment?"
"Yeah. Asked if we'd join her territory."
"Why? 'Cause you're hunters?"
"Yep."
Woo Min-hee was gathering hunters, as expected.
Old news.
What mattered was the siblings' feelings, not her motives.
"So, what're you gonna do?"
Whatever he decided, I'd back it.
Defender was my friend, end of story.
"Gonna think it over."
"Don't like the people here?"
To my blunt question, he countered with a surprise.
"Wanna head out for a bit?"
Not your average outing, I figured.
*
Everyone on the boards knew my internet buddy Defender racked up a body count early in the war.
But details? We only knew he killed them—cold corpses and IDs were all he shared. No play-by-play.
"Some civilians, but mostly gangs of guys robbing and killing the unprepared."
Today's ride: bikes.
I dug mine out from the garage dust, pedaling east alongside him on the old roads.
He preferred walking but used bikes for long hauls on good pavement, especially heavy loads.
"Those types always had a hideout. Stockpiled loot, even locked up women and kids."
Casual tone, but he was recounting post-war chaos.
"Saw a TV celebrity once."
"No kidding?"
"Dead, though."
"Oof."
He'd cherry-picked useful stuff from those stashes for his own dispersed caches.
Smart doomsayer move: don't hoard in one spot or enemies swarm. Hide bits everywhere, out of easy reach.
"Big piles draw big crowds. And it's bullshit—dying sucks, but your killer hitting the jackpot? Salt in the wound."
"Fair."
As a fellow prepper, total agreement.
Not bragging, but I'd once mulled rigging my whole bunker to blow if I died fighting inside.
Liked explosive ends in stories, not IRL, so scrapped it.
"Here."
Our spot: a half-collapsed prefab.
[Adult Supplies]
Faded sign, but obvious what it sold.
Long abandoned pre-war, a massive trash heap really.
Defender popped the rusty lock with a wire like a pro.
Door stuck? His trick.
He fished a hoe from under red plastic bags, dug under the building.
Dirt hid stakes blocking the door.
"Most ignore it, but some check every door."
Scavenger-proofing explained, he flung the door open.
"Whoa."
Stale stench and swarming bugs hit first.
But my eyes locked on the fuel stacks.
"Briquettes?"
He nodded.
"Found a guy who'd hoarded a whole warehouse. This is half. East has more, but too far—Legion remnants crawling there."
He spread his arms wide.
"All yours, SKELTON."
"What? All this to me?"
"You got a crowd there, right? Building a winter house? Perfect fit."
"Hm."
"Better than wood?"
Briquettes beat wood hands-down.
Carbon monoxide risk, but superior heat, minimal smoke—insulting to compare to wood's haze.
Wood's poor efficiency meant constant burning, billowing smoke that screamed "come loot me."
These briquettes were a game-changer.
Two boilers full? Month, month-and-a-half.
Not whole winter, but low-risk bridge through the deadliest early phase.
Still, the gift darkened my mood.
"Why dump this on me all of a sudden?"
I knew.
He'd made up his mind.
This was the seal on it.
"...Sorry, SKELTON."
He bowed his head.
"You've bailed us out so many times, and now we're leaving again."
Figured as much.
Sensed the shift.
But so soon?
Circumstances pointed that way, yet it felt premature.
So I asked.
"Why? My territory not good enough?"
I didn't think so.
Wrong.
Defender smiled—genuine, un-Defender-like—and nodded honestly.
"Yeah."
My heart wobbled for a split second.
"..."
Hurt more than "we're leaving." "Don't like it here" stung deeper.
As I reeled, he grinned.
"Grab briquettes?"
Hauling them, I reflected.
People confuse familiarity with quality.
Not just old folks—all ages do it.
Me included.
I thought my setup the coolest apocalypse pad ever.
Boards agreed: few Korean bunkers matched mine.
Foxgame aside, maybe.
But it didn't wow everyone.
Kim Daram clued me in first.
Her "How do you raise kids here?" griped the bunker itself.
Defender too, probably.
They'd always lived large, flashy.
First meeting: rich villa, rundown but luxe.
Here: secret gambling house turned home.
Now cramped, smelly, buggy underground? Torture.
Biggest issue: people.
No blowups yet, but he foresaw clashes.
Pre-war, killing was rare. Now? Routine.
Guns everywhere, drones handy.
Most here were killers.
Familiar meant easy.
Grim, but fights could turn fatal.
So, he'd bounce pre-winter.
"...And that."
He smiled wistfully.
"Lately, feeling paranoid."
"Paranoid...?"
I doubted my ears.
Wasn't he already?
Self-admitted psycho.
"Wherever I go, feels like someone's gonna recognize me."
"..."
That kind.
Missed it completely.
Thought I got him better now, but fully knowing anyone? Tough.
"Can't risk dragging you or others down."
"Our turf's safe enough."
"Woo's is safer."
True.
Who backed harder than Woo Min-hee on the peninsula?
"Plus, Jong-cheol's there."
"Heo Jong-cheol?"
"Yeah. Quack vibes, but he sees true."
"X-ray vision, sure."
"Sis improved, but needs watching. No gear here—only he can check her right."
"...Cancer?"
Prodded my old suspicion.
He just smiled faintly.
Not spilling yet.
Sure enough, he deferred.
"Gonna think it over with her at our old spot first."
He pedaled harder, pulling ahead.
Watching him go, I murmured.
"...Yeah."
I pedaled silently after.
Wind blew.
Afternoon breeze, warm from sun, felt colder than night's chill—not just seasonal shift.
Defender would leave.
But his reasons weren't cold.
I knew that.
People meet, part.
If the end feels right, that's enough.