Chapter 341
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 341
Chapter Title: 137. Belongings
A vacancy had opened up.
"We didn't talk much, but he seemed like a good guy."
"What a shame."
"He was always holed up in his bunker, so we never really got the chance."
"Felt like he was avoiding us, too."
The hunters hadn't crossed paths with Valentine much, so his disappearance didn't stir up any real agitation or sorrow among them.
They wouldn't show it out of deference to me, but surely some were secretly pleased he was gone.
To them, Valentine was just dead weight—a guy with skills in the internet, which meant nothing for survival.
Had I gone first, he might've followed in my footsteps.
The only ones with any real connection to Valentine were Bang Jae-hyeok's mother and the Rebecca mother-daughter duo.
"Valentine. Good man. So sad."
Rebecca had been the one who'd pestered him the most.
"Poor Valentine. Hope he goes to good place in afterlife."
Su had watched over him from Rebecca's side.
The two of them prayed in front of Valentine's bunker.
Bang Jae-hyeok's mother wasn't as close to him as they were, but as one of the rare non-combatants in the territory, she'd shared occasional moments of understanding with him, if not frequently.
Looking at his now-empty bunker, she let out a sigh.
"Maybe he didn't have much attachment to life."
She placed a few cornflowers on top of the bunker.
"Men without support don't last long. Sure, the young might pull through, but once you're older, with no opportunities left and realizing you can't do anything more... it's all too easy to give up on life."
I didn't agree with her take, but viewing it from Valentine's perspective, I could see how his life might not have seemed worth living.
Nothing fun about it, that's for sure.
One goal had given him a reason to keep going, but in the end, that goal demanded his life.
"......"
Still, he probably died with a smile.
As I stood there silently, Bang Jae-hyeok's mother suddenly turned to me.
"Park Gyu, you ever gonna get married?"
No wonder Da-jeong didn't care for her.
"Pardon?"
"I mentioned support, right?"
"Yes."
"Men need a family, especially as they get older."
"Is that so?"
"Yes. If this man had a family, I doubt he'd have thrown his life away so easily."
"Let's not go there."
I said it with a hint of irritation before walking away.
She might have a point, though.
Elders' tales often ring true with common wisdom.
But it's no universal truth.
Suppose I did get married.
Who with?
Hong Da-jeong, the most likely, turned me down.
No other candidates come to mind.
Given my personality, I'd have to genuinely like someone first for marriage to even be on the table.
Na Hye-in fits that bill.
But that fondness is more for her abilities and background than her herself.
Besides, the physical distance is immense.
No other women pop up.
Rebecca's just a comrade, and Song Yu-jin is too good to waste on me.
If I had to scrape the barrel... Woo Min-hee?
"Ha."
I chuckled despite myself.
Woo Min-hee, seriously.
I must be lonelier than I thought.
Putting her in the running as a bride candidate.
A faint smile on my face, I stepped into Valentine's now-empty bunker.
His bunker still held a few glowing devices.
The computer and network gear he'd left behind.
He hadn't even powered it down, so contrary to Bang Jae-hyeok's mother's words, he didn't seem to have death on his mind.
He planned to come back here.
"......"
This was my first time sorting through someone's belongings since childhood—now a faded, hole-riddled memory.
In the warzone, I'd sent off countless comrades, but I never handled their effects.
My job was marking the deceased or MIA in mission reports with precise answers.
I usually checked "deceased."
Even if uncertain, I'd mark deceased.
No false hopes, and it simplified legal matters for the survivors over MIA.
Effects were handled by specialists.
Locals in white suits and masks, probably ethnic Koreans from China judging by their Korean speech, though they never revealed identities or chatted.
They swiftly sorted items for kin from trash, packing valuables neatly for shipment back home.
Never dreamed I'd be doing it.
Thud—plink—
First things first: sort the belongings, just like those pros.
Times have changed, so criteria shifted.
They separated for kin versus discard; we separate useful from useless.
Everything's precious now, irreplaceable.
Kin items come after that divide.
Most of Valentine's stuff: computer and network gear.
Useful, hard to replace.
Keep even if not using now—cover in industrial plastic, stash in a corner of the garage.
Clothes too—valuable now unlike pre-war.
Wear 'em, trade 'em, repurpose as material.
Valentine had a surprising amount.
Including a suit and polished shoes in a paper box.
"......"
What for?
Job interview?
Packed all clothes, underwear included, suit and shoes too.
Some trash: moldy dried mushrooms and fruit,
parts he'd deemed junk, broken wheeled suitcase, crushed empty glasses frames, worn-out adult toy past its prime.
Decor on prominent display shelf: trash too.
Thumb-sized Empire State Building mini-figure, a few Lego figs, cannon-equipped orb plastic model.
Shelf neatly arrayed with diverse trinkets of nationalities, origins, types—no family photos.
Might be digital files, but no physical family pics from him.
Maybe one in his wallet, but clear he had no nostalgic past worth recalling.
Mostly sorted Valentine's belongings.
Three categories.
Useful ahead, trash, shelf stuff.
"......"
Suddenly: if I died, how would they sort mine?
I have tons of stuff.
Lots useful, lots sentimental.
Built a grand bunker, so naturally cluttered.
Reminders of memories abound.
Trophies, thank-yous from prez on down, medals, badges, Golden Fleece, ceremonial robes, school and China-era photos.
If I died, all tossed?
Clothes aside, probably dumped in the wasteland.
Chinese handlers bagged most mementos straight to trash.
Same for my cabinet stash.
Memories are like that.
One person's treasure is another's echo, meaningless.
Clang! Clang!
Outside, vigorous hammering.
Winter house construction.
Cold snap has everyone pitching in.
Foundation and frame done, but tweaks and requests keep it endless.
I should help too.
Priority: protect living from winter over dead man's sort.
Yet I'm here first for another reason.
Seeking way to hack Jeju intranet—Red Archive board specifically.
No network expert, but bet Valentine prepped something in his will for mishaps.
"......"
Nothing.
Scoured for Jeju intranet docs—nada.
Computers checked ages ago, deep scans on HDDs, spare drives too.
No dice.
Might be blind to obvious from ignorance.
Nice guy like him probably left a manual for trouble.
Nope.
Lazing while others work ain't great optics.
Wrapping up to head out when Su entered.
"Skelton, whatcha doing?"
Rifle slung—fresh off patrol.
"Sorting Valentine's stuff."
"Oh yeah?"
Su scanned sorted piles and pending.
"Looking for something?"
"Journal or diary?"
"Why?"
"Wanna read if there."
"None."
Diary, huh.
Who writes those nowadays?
Common in Jang Gi-yeong's era, faded with progress.
I jot occasionally.
Not daily musings—key events or shifts, concise like old reports.
Includes Valentine's death.
-Valentine died.
Could add more, didn't.
For me, not show.
Su eyed the soon-to-trash shelf.
"Valentine... went to good place?"
Gazing at knickknacks.
"Dunno."
I don't buy afterlife.
Dead is dead.
"Let's head out."
"Wait."
Su eyed trinkets curiously—rare toys.
"Can I touch?"
"Sure. Valentine wasn't of this world. These don't wanna be tossed, so take what you like."
"Cool?"
Su picked Empire State first.
"Mom'd love this."
I chuckled.
"Anything else..."
Su scanned seriously.
Bet on Lego fig.
Nope.
Grabbed orb model.
"Skelton, what's this?"
"Dunno."
"No idea?"
"Not into robots."
Jang Gi-yeong was.
I dislike moving machines.
Drone trauma from China.
Su shook it suddenly.
"Huh?"
"What?"
"Hear noise inside?"
"What noise?"
"Rattle?"
Yeah, something loose inside.
Probably loose part.
No biggie—then Su gripped orb sides, popped it open like a box.
"Huh?"
Something hit floor.
Figured part, ignored—but Su didn't.
"Skelton?"
"Yeah?"
"Isn't this...?"
Su brought finger-sized object.
"This?"
SSD drive.
Sticky note: -Backup
*
The USB Su found held the full essence of one man, "Valentine," that I'd missed in his bunker.
Failnet setup, network builds, server tips, essentials, minutiae, gear manuals—tricks from working with John_nenon.
Cherished movies, vids, games—including 18+ as expected.
Tons of personal pics. Pre-war clubber: banners from swing dance, hiking, surfing, concert-going, divorcees' club.
No wife pics among hordes, not even family shots.
"Valentine really lived it all out."
Su eyed club pics, half-disgusted.
"No regrets in death..."
"......"
Oddest: textbooks.
Like my bunker DVDs on survival, his tiny SSD packed network/site build archives—scraped online, not US off-shelf.
Subtle diff between us.
Key folder last: - TO SKELTON
-To Skelton
"......"
Valentine was Valentine.
Kind soul.
Inside: readme.txt
-If Skelton opens this, probably means I died without a body. Ignore if not you—tech stuff.
Rest: Jeju intranet hacks, Red Archive specifics.
Backdoor already set.
Necropolis invaders in Viva! Apocalypse!—just guide me through the door.
Tough for network noob like me, days of agony.
Credit to Su entirely.
"Thanks, Su."
Sincere gratitude.
This little kid grew to gift me this.
"Nah, Skelton. Just this much."
"Want anything?"
"Your bunker."
"No way."
"Lame."
Perusing true belongings together, asked Su again.
One question.
"How'd you spot it?"
"Valentine fiddled with it often."
"So?"
"Yeah. Stuff you fiddle with has reason."
Simple, convincing.
Scanned drive thoroughly.
Newest mod: photo, added pre-Paju trip, in Skelton folder.
"Huh? Me too?"
"......Yeah."
"Skelton, what's with sudden?"
One thing sure.
Valentine didn't dislike me.
"......"
That I wanted to know.