Chapter 8
Chapter 8
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 8
Chapter Title: Find Kimbap Lover
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My ID in Survival Life is Kimbap Lover.
It's the same on the streaming site.
If you type that into the search bar, nothing much comes up.
At best, some posts from people who actually love kimbap.
But things changed after thousands of people started seeing status windows.
"Kim... bap... jo... a."
Click.
I scrolled through the search results and couldn't believe my eyes.
To think someone like me could attract this much attention.
And in the worst possible way.
Have these guys all lost their minds as a group?
What did I even do to deserve this abuse?
Do they think I deleted the videos to monopolize the guides?
"I just lost interest."
The service shutdown pissed me off, and the views were low anyway, so no regrets.
Now these nobodies who ignored it back then are complaining?
"If I'd kept them up, huh."
I'd barely planned to share even then, but now that's completely off the table.
They're out here threatening to hunt me down and kill me over my ID. No way I'm playing the sucker.
Wait.
What about the other veterans besides me?
I searched for Bunny Duo, Survivor1, Duck Down Quack, and the others, but nothing unusual.
Just trash-talking them.
I could kinda understand why they were so pissed.
The thrill of getting status windows and powers.
The tension of the apocalypse looming anyway.
And the despair of surviving on half-baked early memories alone.
That must be crushing them.
Not my problem. Good luck surviving, folks.
Anyway, the other veterans staying quiet probably means they're doing just like me.
"Prepping and waiting."
They might not have guide videos, but they've got thousands of hours of experience.
Especially the tutorial and early game—they've died there so much, it's memorized.
Grouping up is risky, so solo's safer.
"Just endure. That's the key."
But one worry nagged at me.
The Survival Life, Mityube, and streaming site admins know my IP.
What if one of them awakened?
What if they come looking?
"What were the privacy policies again..."
I checked the sites and terms carefully, then breathed a sigh of relief.
Mityube and the streaming site delete all records on account deletion.
"Dodged a bullet there."
Survival Life is the issue...
Site's gone, no way to check.
I eyed the survival pack sitting in my room.
Reinforced over and over—enough for three days solo.
If suited agents show up, I'm bolting.
Can't easily change addresses with packages coming here.
Need someone to sign for them.
Speaking of, people should start grouping up around now.
That tattooed guy mentioned meetings too.
"Gotta be some online cafes..."
A few searches turned up awakened folks' cafes.
Not even hiding much.
"Busan... Busan... here."
Members-only normally, but pasting the title in search worked.
Should've locked it properly, amateurs.
Mostly prepping for doomsday, like me.
But these guys... seem confused?
This guy's right.
The Metal Plague wrecked humanity's infrastructure.
Military and police gear? Mostly useless scrap.
Bet Zombie Smasher feels stupid now.
Spouting "tips" and immediately debunked.
Instead of shame, he went shameless—post vanished, no more updates.
Then I spotted something suspicious in an old post by Ppushing Ppashing74.
"Ppushing Ppashing's the tattooed thug."
Figures from the ID.
Anyway, confirmed: tow-truck tattoo guy and thugs prepping for end times.
And trying to snag Mi-kyung on the side.
I'll remember those two.
"But you won't last long."
Their "must-read" tips were pathetic.
Whispering among themselves, but zero real info.
"If Mi-kyung gets mixed up with these losers, it'll end bad."
Hard to stomach imagining sweet, pretty her with these punks.
Not that we're close or anything...
"If she asks, I'll warn her."
Tell her to ditch the lowlifes.
If she ignores, oh well.
Pays back the haircut and business boost.
Last, checked government news.
"Hm..."
Nothing in the feeds.
Makes sense—dozens of suspicious crimes? Probably chalked up to coincidence.
Plus, top government posts are mostly middle-aged or old.
No clue about Survival Life or status windows.
Not their fault.
"Survivors survive, dead die."
Lucky no family, I guess?
Then a text from the hardware store uncle.
Delivery okay?
—Yep. Now please.
Gonna be busy for a bit.
.
.
.
"Hngh."
I hauled mortar bags, buckets, and building materials into the cave.
Muscles adapted from hard work?
First time felt deadly; now it's easing up.
"Weird."
No full-body soreness tomorrow, hopefully.
Even if, gotta work now.
"First up..."
Played the plastering tutorial on my laptop perched on a chair.
Hm...
Good enough, roughly.
Beginner like me? Bound to suck anyway.
As long as floor doesn't crack or sink.
Need water though.
Hose feasible here?
Grabbed one from first floor, hooked to second-floor bathroom, fed through dimension gate.
Gush—water flooded cave entrance.
"It works."
No more lugging heavy buckets.
Lucky.
Poured water into a big tub, dumped mortar, mixed with shovel.
Takes longer than expected.
Thought it was mixed; lumps everywhere.
Shoveled forever, glanced inside—energy sapped.
"That big...?"
Felt small inside; perspective's tricky.
Gritted teeth, kept at it.
Pour finished mortar in corner... no.
Level first.
Or it'll roll when I sleep.
Level and string'll do.
Nailed string to nearby wall, stretched long.
Level on string shows rough level.
Then plaster to match.
"Damn, harder than thought."
Cave's irregular—not like standardized spaces.
One spot good, another's off.
Nails stubborn too.
Aim for mostly level.
Not showing off.
"Hoo, tough."
Grunted, mixing and plastering nonstop.
Cave cozy-warm, sweating.
Stomach growling.
Home for rice good, but wanna eat here today.
"Ramen it is."
Full spam can—mmm.
Sodium bomb, but future me's problem.
Pulled camp burner and pot from backpack, boiled water.
"Like camping."
Dangerous kind: forest with beasts and monsters.
Pointless, but gotta acclimate.
Just no Owl Bears or Werewolves.
"Bone Creepers risky too."
Ask Survival Life users strongest monster? Ogre.
Scariest? 90/100 say Bone Creeper.
Veterans called it Sneakbone or Creepy.
Looks like skeleton.
Monster dies, bones left; some force turns 'em Bone Creeper.
Looks weak, but attacks horrifying.
Dark night.
Silent approach, then boom—explodes on contact.
Power insane; caught full-on, instant death.
First-person view amps terror.
Odd presence at night—turn, skeleton in face.
Boom.
We dubbed explosion "fuckboom."
Character delete on death—infuriating.
Even heavy players lost chars to one blast often.
Official forums flooded: "Delete Bone Creepers pls."
Devs ignored.
One reason I buried old goblin: prevent Bone Creeper.
Underground, no change.
"Please don't show..."
Slurping ramen, forest darkened fast.
No lights—night hits sudden.
Birds silenced; ominous bug chorus ruled.
Go home?
Shook head.
Finish plaster tonight, stock supplies as it dries.
"Entrance hidden well..."
Should be fine.
Bolt if needed.
Did dishes, back to work.
Skilled now—smooth motions.
No distractions, progress fast.
Flat mortar floor? Satisfying.
My hideout shaping up.
Door for entrance ideal.
Mid-plaster, needed piss—stepped out.
Dropping pants, felt weird presence.
"..."
Turned slow—saw it.
Pitch black: skeleton shambling toward me.
Jaw agape like "Found you!"
"Fuc..."
No time for curse—leapt to cave.
Covering head and gut with limbs—experience from countless deaths.
BOOM!
Bone Creeper self-destructs.
Blast hurled me; world spun.
Body tumbled, snagged on something.
Agonizing pain hit.
"Guh!"
Shaking, forced strength in.
Power... returns!
No fatal wound.
Beat-up whole body? Relieving.
At least alive.
"Urgh..."
Stifled groan, stood.
Bone Creeper spotted me but didn't close fully.
So I'm alive.
Bone shards everywhere; limbs bloodied.
Jagged bits horrific.
Not artery... pull 'em.
"Damn."
Trembling hand gripped one—yanked. Hellish pain.
Couldn't breathe, curled up.
Deep shard removal hurts this bad.
Shards hurt; arrows would knock out?
Crawled half-dead to backpack.
Old goblin loot: guka fruit powder, plant oil...
Not ointment, but smear'll help heal.
Here.
Bit lip, tensed fingers on shard.
Lucky arm blocked head.
Else temple shard.
"Khh!"
Last shard out—tears welled.
Bone Creeper made stoic guy cry. Applause.
Slapped on guka powder and oil messily.
"Ah..."
Pain eased bit.
Lay long, then weakly:
"Status Window..."
Bleed debuff, but health not critically low.
Means recovery if I hold.
Bone Creeper gone: level 2, points 19.
"Counts as kill here too."
Silver lining?
Home first.
"Exclusive Dimension Gate Open..."
Back home, collapsed on floor.
Died... but lived.
Find Kimbap Lover End