Chapter 342
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 342
Chapter Title: 138. Pretty Boy
Rumors of a harsh winter were spreading, and with temperatures visibly plummeting in real time, people began preparing to survive the cold.
But not everyone thinks alike.
To me, the animal that symbolizes surviving winter is the ant.
In the fable of the ant and the grasshopper, I always thought the ideal way to winter was for the ant to sweat through autumn, stockpiling food and supplies in its pantry.
Yet as the years pile on, you feel it in your bones: people just don't think the same.
Online, there were plenty with completely different ideas from mine.
The most common type? Migrants.
Like birds fleeing winter for warmer climes, these folks scour the peninsula for the least frigid spots to ride out the cold.
In fact, the winter temperature gap between southern hub Busan and Seoul exceeds 10 degrees.
Even during that horrific cold snap, tales emerged of the coastal Yeongnam region being somewhat bearable.
Minus 10 and minus 20 are different beasts; minus 20 and minus 30, even more so.
They're all freezing if you sit still, but after two waves of bitter cold, I learned there's strict gradation even among subzero temps.
Personally, I think you can tough out minus 20.
Minus 30 starts getting dicey; minus 40, you gotta cling to sanity.
So yeah, 10 degrees matters.
No exact figures, but word was Busan's average during the last freeze hovered around minus 20.
But Busan is now uninhabitable.
The military abandoned the rifts, turning it into an erosion zone, and news has gone dark since.
Rumor has it beyond Mun Kyung Pass, only a few warlord strongholds resist; everywhere human control lapsed got eroded.
So heading south won't pay off.
But their "migration" hides a deeper meaning: plunder and all acts of survival.
In this era where most are opportunistic raiders, killing and looting isn't rare—but one of our board buddies got plucked by migrants.
Correction: Kim Dong-hung posted here, but he ain't a board buddy.
He's the toxic user I, as secret mod, constantly delete and ban.
He finally met his match.
Migrants nabbed him and posted pics from his account.
The photo showed him tied to a chair, hands bound behind, bloodied from brutal torture and beatings, unconscious.
*
Toxic user Kim Dong-hung first showed up on our board right after I returned from that hellish Jeju.
His debut as the villain everyone hates was anything but ordinary.
In his very first post, he brazenly uploaded a face pic: neither young nor handsome, just outright unpleasant.
From there, he flooded the board near-spam levels, always attaching his mug.
No clue why, but he always called himself "Pretty Boy"—an outdated term—and attached fresh selfies snapped on the spot.
Locations, backgrounds, props—all varied.
At first, no big deal. But watching this middle-aged guy past 50 post over twenty selfies a day? Questions bubbled up.
Why the hell does a guy that age do this?
I've seen crazies aplenty.
Defender alone ain't normal.
Some post corpses like other villains; others craft with human skin.
But Kim Dong-hung had a different, twisted madness.
Why expose himself so desperately?
I'd heard that in dire straits, the descriptor varies by age: kids get "poor," elders "pathetic."
Kim Dong-hung looked pathetic.
His digs? No bunker—just a rundown building with crap heating and defense. "Pretty Boy's dinner"? Scraps someone else discarded.
One thing clear: he lived in a refugee spot or natural group settlement.
"Natural group" because no one there would choose him as kin.
Worse, despite scoring satellite gear—likely via murder—he never mingled, just spammed his ugly mug endlessly. Sickening.
Looks like his end came.
No more of that mug.
Not one to gloat over misery, but yeah, better this way.
New killers don masks, but none this nuisance-level.
Who else snaps and posts 100+ face pics daily?
His new owner, Kang Young-hun? Net-savvy vet.
Viva! Apocalypse! Caught him less than a day ago, already mastered nickname change and pulls decent aggro posts.
"......"
Plenty to say, but zip it.
Names like me don't chat newbies direct.
Royals don't deal with plebs firsthand—one hop at a time.
With newbies flooding, even aggro pulls replies.
Necropolis Deadmen influx.
Thanks to Valentine's sacrifice boosting bandwidth, Necro users can now view limited images.
Necro-style low-res degradation, and videos take modem-era patience, but hey.
FYI, Deadman Walking recommends 640x480 pixels.
Anyway, won't join newbie replies, but my take: Kim scavenged.
His Pretty Boy series backgrounds shifted constantly: open fields, sheer cliffs, ruined cities, refugee camps.
A restless wanderer? Scavenger fits best.
Our guesses missed.
Kim wasn't scavenger, beggar, farmer, or doomsayer.
The answer? Unexpected.
No one saw that coming.
Executioner? In a world sans jails or judges, rife with vigilante reprisals?
Doesn't just sound implausible—it's impossible.
As if reading our doubts, the battle-hardened vet spilled.
"......"
Vaguely heard of it.
As apocalypse ground lives to dust with no end in sight, suicides surged everywhere.
But not everyone wanting death gets it easy.
Even craving it, that final step demands something: the skill to end yourself.
However strong the urge, leaping from 30 stories easy? Subway dash? Han River plunge? Even I hesitate.
For those suicidal sans courage, the cruelest, most broken souls assisted death.
That's the euthanasia dealer.
Not the peaceful, clinical kind from Canada.
No gentle slumber service.
Apocalypse-style: Kim used chair and rope.
Tied the desperate to the very chair he's now bloodied on, noosed their neck, strangled till the end.
The revealed list: crippled soldiers, widowed mothers, lonely elders, hale men—every type.
No big data patterns.
All suffered.
Life crushed them.
So how was Kim, granting "mercy"?
Satisfied with his lot?
"......"
Nope.
Unsustainable torment drove him to bizarre acts beyond normal ken.
Spamming "Pretty Boy" selfies? Maybe baiting hate, purging guilt his way?
Wasn't there, but can picture it: migrant/raider laughing, pummeling the chair-bound old fart with fists, feet, blunts.
Standard violence.
Moments later, a short video.
Title alone told me: Kim Dong-hung, board terror for ages, was dead.
Not all raiders kill, but young punks like him? No qualms.
Literal last words from toxic user Kim.
In a way, I'm the mod most tangled with him: deleted thousands of spam, issued most bans.
No other user obsessed like me.
So I pondered his final line.
Option one: begging. Common deathbed plea.
Two: dramatic. Philosophers say madmen pierce truths.
Behind the troll mask, facing death, maybe profound words shake souls—never heard from him before.
But I know that's unlikely.
Three: silence. As probable as begging.
What'd he pick?
Heart pounding a bit, hit play.
Low-res dim room: man bound.
Zooms on face: bruised, bloody Kim.
Presumed Kang in mask and cap yanks hair, tilts head back.
Kim groans, mouth opens—teeth gone, bloody gums exposed.
"......"
Fleeting pity.
Short-lived.
Kim grins at camera.
"Me."
He said.
"Pretty Boy~."
Bang!
Video ends on gunshot.
Thoughts flickered, but shrugged off.
No need to dwell.
Perfect timing: alarm blared.
Stepped out bunker, climbed hill, eyed north.
Horizon: mass of people.
Migrants.