Chapter 348
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 348
Chapter Title: 142. Coin (1)
Looking back, it's all just memories, but clear mistakes and wrongs cling like shards of glass embedded in the flesh, refusing to fade away.
A careless word I let slip without thinking was one such shard for me.
I remember it coming up during chit-chat with the pack of guys who swarmed me after training, acting all buddy-buddy.
There were team evaluations during assessments, and in places where they carried heavy weight, competent teammates were bound to be popular.
Especially someone like me, who never once missed the top spot.
At the start of the semester, ahead of new team assignments, guys clutching team formation requests gathered like clouds.
I'd always kept my distance by nature, so I didn't have any close friends, but I didn't act standoffish either.
Just cordial with everyone.
My enmity was better spent on monsters anyway—there was no shortage of it—so no need to make enemies of my classmates.
In that situation, amid obligatory chit-chat with the guys crowding me for scraps, Kang Hanmin's name came up.
"Kang Hanmin? Why would you team up with a guy like that?"
Young as I was, even now, my idea strikes me as pretty outlandish.
"You can't make a perfect team. There are always one or two drags. I'm slotting Hanmin in to prepare for that scenario."
If I went back to that time now, my assessment wouldn't change.
Even empty words wouldn't call Kang Hanmin average—he was below it.
He had the mental fortitude to endure Jang Gi-yeong's gaslighting-level bullying, which was commendable, but spirit without talent only endangered himself and his teammates.
The problem was that Kang Hanmin was right there in the group.
The moment my thoughtless words spilled out, my eyes met his as he approached with his own request form.
In that split second, Hanmin's eyes shifted rapidly.
From expectation and admiration to shock, then disappointment and despair.
Like a vibrant young plant suddenly wilting, Hanmin hunched his shoulders and turned, fleeing the spot.
"What? Isn't that Kang Hanmin?"
"Why's he here? No way he wants to team with Park Gyu?"
"But he probably overheard that just now?"
I could feel triumphant smirks spreading across the faces surrounding me.
It was a brief incident.
Back then, I figured it was trivial, something I'd forget soon enough.
But that memory rattled around inside me like glass shards, delivering sharp pangs of pain.
So our connection started off on the wrong foot from the very beginning.
From that flawed start, our fates intertwined, and it seemed like they finally severed when I stripped down and began building the bunker.
Now, four years after the war's end, Kang Hanmin returned to me more vividly than ever.
There was just a single photo attached.
A wide-angle shot from a high vantage point.
I recognized that landscape.
Jeju's terrain.
The wasteland below the ridgeline, not far from the outpost where I'd briefly holed up, perpetually shrouded in fog.
The fog had lifted, as if by magic.
Only once had I seen it clear like that.
And there, manifesting like a nightmare—the cause of this world's doom—stood arrogantly.
A rift.
But in that photo, no rift was visible.
It had vanished cleanly.
"......"
Yes.
The rift had closed.
*
"Park Gyu. Why the spaced-out look?"
We didn't have strict rules in our territory, but we did agree to have breakfast together at least.
Doubling as morning roll call, it had a solid rationale over forcing attendance and created a brief space for communication.
Everyone brought their own food, but showing up was the rule, even if you had nothing.
Cheon Youngjae, living separately, always joined for breakfast.
At the table today, my face must've looked off even to the others.
I could feel eyes on me, gauging my mood.
"......Slept poorly. Body's stiff."
I couldn't tell the truth.
Whether the rift had closed or not was my own conclusion.
The post from the presumed Kang Hanmin user had sunk into the depths amid the clamor of the dead ones' uproar.
The photo was ambiguous, and few would grasp its significance—totally expected.
Being unrelated to the hot topics scorching the boards helped bury it too.
The post was deleted soon after.
I didn't know if the poster was Hanmin, but I could guess why it vanished.
Probably thought it was dropping a bombshell ace card, only for it to flop without likes or comments—rage-quit delete.
I knew from experience.
The issue was the radio silence since.
Our board was one thing, but even Jeju's intranet was dead quiet.
Click-clack— click-clack—
I surfed the internet with a blank expression.
Viva! Apocalypse! and Red Archive boards.
The two major boards buzzed with everyday chatter.
Viva! Apocalypse! talked Seoul reconstruction; Red Archive, the latest patches.
No rift info anywhere.
Days of this frustration had etched weariness on my face.
"......"
I vaguely knew the way.
If Jeju wouldn't spill, we could poke their intranet.
Jeju's intranet security wasn't ironclad, after all.
The problem was how.
With Valentine gone, no access to their secret folders.
"Weak" meant to experts like Valentine; not for a layman like me.
All I could do was funnel Necropolis users looking to bulk up via Valentine's backdoor into the boards.
But invading Red Archive now would just ramp up their security.
Valentine left a kind manual with comments and steps for his death prep, but sadly, beyond my skills.
I needed a person.
I scouted talent for hacking advice on Necropolis and Viva! Apocalypse!.
Some responded to my pitch, but
As you see, scammers hunting for shelter.
Maybe raiders aiming to kill me and steal my place.
"......"
I sighed, leaning back in my chair.
Truth is, there was a model answer.
Our board had a guy skilled in programming, IT, networks.
But he was awkward.
Couldn't be helped—replacing the noble Valentine with a rotten Foxgames looked bad.
The positive? We'd half-reconciled lately.
I didn't know his true motives, but Foxgames clearly wanted to mend fences.
The blackie incident proved it.
I didn't know if that mutation dog lived, but dragging this out sucked, and finding someone elsewhere seemed unlikely.
"......"
Tap-tap
No choice—I messaged Foxgames.
I figured it dead already.
We jointly bought rat poison from South America because, unlike our diluted stuff, it packed a punch.
Once war hit, ecosystem collapse be damned—rats devouring our precious food stores was worse.
Mutations didn't grant poison resistance.
Just scaled lethal doses by body/organ size.
If Foxgames dosed properly, Blackie was toast by now.
Alive?
As if to dispel doubts, Foxgames sent a photo.
"......"
Not a composite—looks like the mutation dog lives.
Honestly shocked.
Effort to save one aside, having the gear for treatments.
Well, guy had money.
Bunker fancier than mine.
Anyway, the dog surviving might smooth things over nicely.
I didn't want debts to this guy.
I could see the future.
He'd leverage it to buddy up again.
Tricky requests incoming.
But no better options.
Might exist with searching, but time/effort cost sucked.
Awkward, but borrowing Foxgames made sense.
I sent the file.
Reply soon came.
This is why I hated it.
Handing this to him.
But sometimes the world flows in unforeseen ways.
Foxgames showed interest.
Duh, motives obvious.
Starved for intrigue like me.
Sure enough.
His desires laid bare.
"......"
Tap-tap
Actually good.
I wanted no spotlight here.
*
Dajung once told me, back when she was around.
"Know this?"
Internet guru Hong Dajung was deep into emotes too.
"People's emote choices differ."
Like "^^" feels a bit dated but harmless baseline.
Paid XXtalk ones are generic since everyone's got 'em.
Red Archive-style image character emotes? Otaku staple, addictive.
But worst weren't those.
"100% trash uses these."
The ":)" series.
Dajung's net lore hits eerily true.
Why bad?
Hong Dajung explained:
"Midlife crisis uncles pretending to be chill love 'em? All decked with mental victory coolguy syndrome. I avoid anyone using them."
Anyway, for close collab, installed his custom "FoxTalk."
Said he built it piecemeal after tanking a game and selling his pup for pity—dev honor unrecoverable.
To me, it aped pre-war carrier messengers, outdated relics in design/function.
Stolen source code, no doubt.
Still, a midlife guy shunning Dajung's worst emote ":)" to show zeal? Promising.
"......"
Tap-tap