Chapter 36
Chapter 36
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 36
Chapter Title: SUNBI (1)
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Human beings are cunning creatures, or so they say.
I'm no different from the rest.
Once the toothache faded, I sank back into that swamp of boredom, endlessly refreshing the board, lurking on popular posts, sometimes gripped by the nagging question of why it couldn't be me, letting time slip away like homework I had to slog through.
The hot topic on the board lately was, without a doubt, the resurrected SUNBI.
That weirdo who'd been spouting nonsense had finally started speaking like a normal person.
One person's death isn't inherently more significant than another's, but SUNBI's demise had plenty of room for colorful interpretations depending on the angle.
But no matter how you spun it, the fact remained: there was a woman involved in SUNBI's death.
And maybe that's why.
SUNBI had turned into a girl.
In a blurry photo taken from the classic "best-face angle" inside the musty bunker, the face belonged to a girl in her mid-to-late teens, still carrying that youthful innocence.
The board exploded.
Lately, with the truce or whatever and no pioneers showing up, we'd been enjoying a quiet winter.
On top of that, this new SUNBI knew how to pull aggro like a pro.
If it'd stopped there, things might've been better.
The board's reaction wasn't half bad either.
...
...
For some reason, I couldn't muster much interest in the hype.
Sipping my coffee, I thought it over quietly, and soon I had a hunch about why.
Resentment.
It rubbed me the wrong way seeing someone who hadn't endured society's scorn like us—prepping silently for the end—casually freeloading in our doomsday haven.
Dentist Kim, whom I'd met recently, probably fueled that sentiment.
I wasn't the only one harboring resentment.
No, there was someone who truly despised it.
And that was SUNBI herself.
She soon revealed exactly who she was to us.
That photo had several people in it.
Three guys and two girls.
All mid-to-late teens with youthful faces.
They were outsiders.
Different from us from the start, mocking and cursing us even after finding us—beings who could never mix with our kind.
The age gap only fanned the flames of that collective alienation.
The board users' only recourse against these outsiders was mass ignoring.
But mass ignoring, the refined grammar of board users, was a language lost on outsiders.
...
...
The outsiders plastered the board with their photos, ignoring the mass silent treatment.
Each had its own title, but the content was the same.
Death.
The "cute baby photo" was a frozen infant corpse, and "dog and family" was corpses with a dog.
Only wretched deaths filled their pictures.
I happened to glimpse one of them.
"......"
What the new SUNBI wanted to show us wasn't just repulsive corpses.
Behind the corpses was what she truly aimed to reveal.
Things we knew all too well but didn't want to know—things we refused to see.
The concrete reality of the apocalypse.
This outsider's antics truly set the users' hearts ablaze.
SUNBI didn't just expose the truths we'd ignored.
She laid bare our true nature.
...
...
The raw underbelly of us doomsday preppers, hidden behind cheerful nicks.
*
The community's atmosphere—flows in different directions, like converging and clashing similars—coalesced into one massive current with the arrival of this outsider.
What drove them to step up so eagerly?
I had a vague idea.
Sense of belonging? Or more elegantly, solidarity?
The resentment I felt toward SUNBI at first might've been part of that group consciousness too.
Why, I like this community and cherish our users.
Anyway, the tail end of this quiet winter saw the board burning hotter than a midsummer scorcher.
Because the outsider latched onto the board's most esteemed user.
"?"
Why are these punks imitating me?
No way they're confusing "better" with "sickle," right?
Anyway, SUNBI's antics poured oil on the already inflamed board.
Even users who ignored community topics or rarely posted condemned the new SUNBI.
The momentum was unstoppable now.
SUNBI had to die.
That was the community's will.
Countless users pledged to join, posting proof pics of guns, muscles, gear in a chain.
In this torrent, I hung back a step.
Watching with mild surprise and intrigue.
A thought struck me.
What would Melon Mask say seeing this?
He'd foreseen the community failing its pure purpose, devolving into entertainment.
In the welcome video upon activating satellite gear and entering, Melon Mask urged us to enjoy even if the world ended.
But even that insightful creator couldn't have imagined his community turning into a vigilante arena.
Even as the noose tightened, the new SUNBI kept mocking us.
I didn't join this flow to kill SUNBI.
It was Defender's request.
Defender's message, stripped of humor, painted a grim future.
Soldiers turned bandits.
Could there be a more tangible horror?
Defender promised rough intel after this—probably from interrogating soldiers.
"......"
Peaceful winter, huh.
Just my illusion, it seems.
Even in this hush, the world's end marched steadily on.
Doing what needed doing, one by one, beyond our sight.
Suddenly, it hit me: this collective action might signal the community's collapse.
Before leaving the bunker, I checked the board.
...
...
SUNBI kept mocking us.
But the intensity and frequency of the barbs had ramped up—not just trolling anymore.
They seemed to sense it dimly too.
That this community they'd stumbled upon wasn't to be trifled with.
That a bunch of adults were willingly risking danger, leaving bunkers to kill foolish kids.
I won't deny I'm one of them.
Even without intent to kill, joining the mob makes me complicit.
If that SUNBI crew were cunning bandits digging a death trap for us, I'd gladly help kill them.
That's what Defender asked.
I grabbed gear and headed to the rally point.
A handful of folks, armed with their own guns and kit, clustered in twos and threes.
They outnumbered us but had guns too, so when I showed, the first few dozen eyed me, some hands drifting to weapons.
"Nickname."
A man with a massive cheek scar and thick muttonchops glared with sharp eyes.
"SKELTON."
"Ah, you're SKELTON?"
"And you?"
"Dies Irae Sixty-Nine, but call me Dies Irae or DS. Honestly, no activity, no-name nick I picked thoughtlessly."
Dies Irae.
The one who proposed the group sanction.
He showed no interest in me.
Just my gun.
"Oh, Chinese make. Where'd you get it?"
"Luck of the draw. Dark web route, you could say."
"I see. Much combat experience?"
"Not tons."
"Then hang back and watch. We'll handle it."
Waiting a bit, more users trickled in from the paths.
Dies Irae stepped up each time, verifying identities personally.
Ballsy— one traitor and he'd die first.
All users from the west.
Precisely, southwest; not a single from the east.
They gave nicks when Dies Irae asked.
"Anonymous848."
"ROKA_hun."
"Chouchou."
"Anonymous1001."
Some familiar from the board, some not.
Ages spread from early 30s to early 60s.
Almost no 20s— not early or mid.
They were probably 20s when prepping, but two years into war, all 30s now.
Like me.
Total users assembled: ten.
Not a small number.
Didn't expect this turnout.
SUNBI had properly stroked our reverse scale.
But there's more.
On-site vibe you can only feel there.
Yes, it's a SUNBI-beating party.
But also...
Endless scanning glances.
Polite yet cautious queries on states.
Complaints on current woes, especially loneliness and growing threats.
Myriad metaphors for group, collective.
Dies Irae nailed the gathering's nature.
"After, let's swap info. That's why we're here, right?"
The host confirmed the odd assembly's hidden agenda.
Dragging board connections into reality.
Probably the other purpose of this bizarre meetup.
"Alright, let's kill SUNBI first?"