Chapter 92
Chapter 92
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 92
Chapter Title: 50. The Great Tree (1)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The fact that I'd briefly worked a desk job before the war broke out was something I'd already openly shared on our board through a candid, straightforward account of my experiences.
There were two accountants at that company. One was the boss's mistress, and the other was the real deal.
Neither of them did any actual work, but at least the real one put on a show of it. I hadn't mentioned this on our board, but that real accountant seemed to have taken a strong liking to me, Park Gyu.
"Look at this, Park Gyu."
Maybe that's why.
She showed me a community site she frequented.
She was probably trying to find some common ground, but then as now, I'm not the warm and fuzzy type around women.
"I don't do the internet. No KakaoTalk or anything like that. I don't touch messaging apps at all."
Her not being my type was part of it, but not the whole story.
"What's that group chat on your phone then?"
"Business account. I value my privacy."
Even if she had been more appealing, the outcome wouldn't have changed.
My goal was solo survival. Luxuries like partnering up never even crossed my mind back then.
But the community screen she showed me left a strong impression even on me, Park Gyu, who was worn down mentally and physically by worries that the war might never happen and constant debt collection calls.
I don't remember the exact name, but it was an anonymous board—and not even fully anonymous at that.
Its unique feature was a system that displayed the name of the company you worked for.
It was pitched as a great idea: a space where office workers could candidly share the secrets of their workplaces, guaranteeing their right to know and protecting their interests.
The intent was good.
It sounded plausible.
But to me, that system looked like a perfect replica of Korea's age-old social ills.
"Ta-da~ This is how our company shows up!"
The real accountant posted something.
"New company!"
"New company?"
"Yeah. Companies like ours usually..."
She beckoned me closer.
"Just say it from there."
At my response, she pouted, turned her head sharply, and snapped curtly.
"Small companies show up like total shit."
I secretly signed up for the site.
It required a business card and company phone number. Since my company didn't make business cards, I paid 2,500 won for a template, made one myself, entered the company phone, and barely got verified.
Once I had the account, I checked out the problematic site.
As a hub for office workers, it brimmed with practical info and that distinct 30-40s salaryman culture you could practically touch. But amid it all, the familiarity I'd felt at first glance stuck in my throat like a lump.
SKELTON (New Company): Work is too hard.
I posted it.
Three seconds later, something similar popped up.
There was no difference between the two posts.
Yet the comment counts differed wildly.
Mine had zero. That SaxuA guy below had 12.
I read a few.
...
"What the...?"
Even to me, who wasn't internet-savvy back then, this felt like blatant unfairness.
I wondered what I'd done wrong, but I hadn't done anything wrong.
Being human, I inevitably suspected the "new company" label our real accountant mentioned might be the issue.
As I refreshed with a nagging unease, one post caught my eye.
"There's a company called Doctor?"
I thought the company name was weird and wrote something similar.
SKELTON (New Company): Our Company Features.txt
-Always arrive 10 mins early but they bitch if you're not earlier
-Go out for a walk at lunch and suddenly get called back by phone
-Ask about something you don't know and they say you can't think for yourself; don't ask and they bitch you didn't ask
"?"
No comments despite the long post.
Later, skimming popular posts, I got the vibe.
The company name next to your nickname was your status.
Like Joseon era dividing yangban into lowborn yangban, military vs civil, Noron vs Soron factions—or closer to home, discriminating by apartment name or neighborhood. It was a tool to rank people.
For small-company trash like me, you either didn't post seeing big corp names, or posted ready to get mocked. Our opinions rarely got taken seriously.
I'd seen it multiple times: even if a "new company" poster wrote something objectively logical on a debate post, a "doctor" label guy yelling shut it down turned it into pathetic whining.
Maybe my inferiority complex was extra raw because I was at a small company, got no replies, and was stressed from debt collectors. But that's how it felt, and I never went back to that board.
Yet something similar replayed now, two years and seven months into the war.
The place was PaleNet, symbol of freedom.
...
I heard about the anomaly on PaleNet after a day of grueling labor that left my body heavy as wet cotton, followed by a shower, as I sat down at my laptop.
I'd started at dawn sealing up the main bunker I'd opened during the rainy season.
Not fully with dirt like before.
There was a good chance I'd need it again.
At most two years?
Honestly, by then, survival for me, the legion faction, or even Kim Daram was iffy.
So instead of filling it completely with dirt, I laid plywood, covered it with tarps, then piled earth on top.
After covering with dirt, I planted weeds around for camouflage and left the rest to the blazing summer sun.
Weeeeng—
Hearing the AC humming powerfully, I powered up my laptop in the comfy bunker and learned of the uproar on PaleNet.
Weird codes had appeared next to nicknames.
PaleNet's idle, hungry users buzzed about what they meant, until an anonymous user cautiously guessed.
That guess proved correct.
The code next to the nickname indicated the base station the user was connected to.
Meanwhile, Viva! Apocalypse! users reverse-connecting via satellite showed:
Unknown.
In other words, untraceable.
Even if Park Gyu or others wore the "ㅇㅇ" mask, their origin couldn't be hidden.
In short, the chance of a second Um Chang-i appearing on PaleNet was gone forever.
But that wasn't the only problem.
One user mapped codes to base station locations and organized them neatly.
The intent was good, but people interpreted the data in sleazy ways the poster never imagined.
Like this.
The second post copied the first verbatim, with one tweak.
Replaced regions with classes.
As someone barely dipping a toe in refugee camps, I didn't know, but Incheon camps had their own hierarchies.
Conspiracy theories swirled.
Seemingly all the same refugee camps, but the government supposedly sorted them: good camps for the well-off and capable, middling for average neighborhood folks, bottom for worthless stragglers.
Counterarguments were fierce.
During Seoul's chaotic fall, they rounded up whoever in the mayhem, so camps naturally varied. Calling it "average" something was a logical stretch.
I agree with the latter.
No government reps, just guys dragging out and killing middle-aged men outside—what scheme would they pull?
To me, the government's only needed talent was kids with Awakening potential.
But logic often crumbles to illogic.
People in "high-rated" camps wanted to feel superior just like pre-war, bullheadedly insisting their logic was right, spreading camp class theory across Incheon like gospel.
The result? This mess.
"......"
John_nenon's value was tarnished.
PaleNet, where anyone could freely and equally post as ㅇㅇ anonymously, now had classes.
...
People who'd laughed and chatted equally now checked codes next to nicknames to gauge superiority.
This scene reminded me of that pre-war board where company names marked status next to nicknames.
I immediately messaged John_nenon's subordinate.
A bit later, a reply from John_nenon's subordinate.
171cm explained the situation.
During the rainy season, equipment broke, forcing them to accept government aid—and inevitably bow to the government.
John_nenon pioneered a great site, but maintenance requires resources. Those got depleted in the rains.
Unable to help it, John_nenon bent his principles, bowed to the state, leading to this horrific pandemonium.
Just text, but I could picture a skinny, bespectacled man hesitating beyond it.
Sure enough, the next message confirmed it.
"......"
I squeezed my eyes shut and sighed deeply.
My head had anticipated it.
The first word that came to mind seeing him was "death."
But hearing the man who shone like light was facing death felt like a hammer to the head.
Honestly, I wanted him to live longer.
Even if he no longer posted on the board.
Yeah, that makes sense.
How heartbreaking and disappointing to see the utopia he traded his life for trampled by government boots.
"......"
Another wave of helplessness washed over me.
There was almost nothing I could do about this.
It wasn't a problem an axe rampage could fix.
Even pondering it, I doubted an Awakener like me could do much.
Unless in a position to sway the whole country like Gang Han-min.
But.
"......Wait."
Right.
John_nenon is John_nenon.
As a longtime fan, I know him inside out.
What he likes, what he wants.
Tap tap tap.