Bound for Busan

While Jun-hyeok and Purdy were throwing a wild celebration in the living room, Jun-ho stepped out of his room late, a smirk playing on his lips. "Don't get too excited. We have to spend all of that money on building the shelter anyway."

"Come on, Hyung! You have absolutely no sense of romance. None! Still, it's a fact that we made eighteen billion won, isn't it? Let's have a drink!"

"Alcohol in the morning?"

As soon as the words left his mouth, Jun-ho realized his mistake. It just hit him. 'Let's have a drink' was a popular meme that had originated among soccer fans, but it had been so long since Jun-ho's pre-regression days that he had completely forgotten.

"Sigh, what did I even expect from you? You don't even know that meme? Well, I guess you'll be thirty after this year. Old man."

"Yeah, and you'll be in your mid-twenties. A dusty reservist uncle."

"Oof."

Jun-hyeok dramatized his shock, collapsing onto the sofa with a heavy sigh, before grinning foolishly. "But seriously, eighteen billion won is insane. Hyung, are you going to sell it all right away?"

"Of course. Once the coin passes a hundred thousand won, the market is going to get incredibly volatile. Then, around May or June, it'll completely crash. Everyone in Korea and the US who holds onto it until then will lose everything, and the developer will end up on the Interpol wanted list."

"That's insane. But... they won't come after us after the crash, right? You know, like accusations of market manipulation or conspiracy?"

Meeting Jun-hyeok's worried gaze, Jun-ho spoke with absolute certainty. "Absolutely not. Maybe if we held onto it until the very end and cashed out, but we're liquidating everything right now. How could it be conspiracy? We don't even know what the developer looks like."

"Whoa."

"Besides, the total damage globally will be in the tens of trillions of won. The eighteen billion we made is just a drop in the bucket. We'll just be seen as incredibly lucky bastards."

"Well, that's a relief. Alright, Mr. Crypto-Billionaire Lee Jun-ho. What's our next step?"

"I'll put three billion into Nvidia, and the remaining fifteen billion will go into a newly opened bank account. And the very first thing we need to do..." Jun-ho turned the tablet screen toward Jun-hyeok and continued. "Is win the bid for the Sky Forest Campsite."

"Awesome! But do we have to go there ourselves? Hyung, do you know anything about auctions?"

"No."

"Huh? Then how are we going to do it?" As Jun-hyeok tilted his head in confusion, Jun-ho lowered the tablet and replied, "We just need to hire someone who can handle all of that on our behalf."

"What? There's someone like that?"

"Yes. In Busan."

Lee Dong-cheol. A former prosecutor who had resigned after being implicated in a scandalous incident, he had subsequently opened a small law firm in Busan. When the apocalypse struck, he had been stranded in Seoul on personal business but managed to survive. While not outright evil, he was cunning, opportunistic, and fiercely selfish—yet he was also just one of many fathers in the apocalypse who would do absolutely anything to return to his family in Busan.

He ended up dying after getting mixed up with some godawful cult, though... Regardless, the reason Jun-ho was intent on hiring such a man was simple. Because he served as a prosecutor in Chuncheon and Namyangju.

No matter how much he thought about it, building the shelter would inevitably require cutting corners and exploiting legal loopholes. He might even need to grease the palms of public officials or politicians. He needed an expert who knew the ins and outs of the system and could resolve these issues.

Of course, he could find other competent lawyers if he looked, but in Jun-ho's estimation, it would be difficult to find anyone better suited than Lee Dong-cheol, who had worked as a prosecutor in Namyangju. Most importantly, as long as the price was right, he was a man who could deftly handle not just legal gray areas, but outright illegal matters.

Before his regression, when Jun-ho had stayed in the same shelter as Lee Dong-cheol, someone who despised the lawyer had told him about his past. That made the information all the more reliable. The person had cursed him out, calling him a born son of a bitch who was peerless when it came to cleaning up other people's messes and handling dirty work.

What if things went south? Even in the worst-case scenario, a man like Lee Dong-cheol could drag the legal proceedings out for years through appeals to the high court and the Supreme Court. And the time Jun-ho needed to complete all his preparations was exactly two years.

"So are we going down to Busan to meet him? When?"

"When is the presidential election?"

"Geez, even if you already know who's going to win, at least show some interest. It's on the ninth."

Jun-ho pulled out his phone to check the date and day of the week. "I should go next Tuesday, the day before the election."

"Four days from now?"

"Yeah. I have a lot of things to take care of on Monday. I'll head down on Tuesday to meet the lawyer, and... there's someone far more important than any lawyer I absolutely have to see."

As he spoke, the screen of Jun-ho's smartphone displayed the location of the Suho Tool Center, which he had saved months ago.

After selling off all his coins over the weekend, the final balance displayed on Jun-ho's exchange account was 18.7 billion won.

Since cryptocurrency gains were not taxable under 2022 regulations, Jun-ho faced no major hurdles in transferring almost the entire sum to his domestic bank accounts. There was no reason for the National Tax Service to flag it, and even if they did, he could leave it to Lee Dong-cheol, the lawyer he was going to hire in Busan, to sort it out. Since Lee's specialty was corporate civil litigation, he would either be well-versed in tax law himself or have a network of experts to tap into.

On Monday, the bank branch he visited to open a new account was thrown into an absolute frenzy. The branch manager and the head manager rushed out to greet him personally. Instead of a standard consultation room, Jun-ho was ushered into the branch manager's private office, where he spent over thirty minutes enduring a barrage of obsequious flattery and sweet talk.

Jun-ho successfully opened a secure account with unlimited transfer limits for both in-person and online transactions. The bank desperately wanted to assign a dedicated private banking (PB) asset management team to him, but Jun-ho politely declined. After all, this money was nominally business capital, but in reality, it was destined to fund the construction of his shelter. He did, however, accept the Pentium Black, the highest-grade premium credit card they offered.

Escorted out of the bank by the bowing branch manager and head manager, Jun-ho immediately logged into his brokerage firm's global HTS (Home Trading System) and purchased three billion won worth of Nvidia stock.

Of course, before doing so, he had tried to test the waters by posting a disguised, casual query on a stock forum to gather some information. But the replies were filled with incomprehensible jargon—some insisted he needed a precise buying plan that factored in exchange rates, while others argued it was better to place limit orders during a correction phase. To make matters worse, the commenters quickly devolved into hurling insults and fighting among themselves. Giving up on the forum, Jun-ho simply placed a clean market order for the entire three billion won.

Having completed the transaction—which had a one hundred percent probability of netting him an additional ten billion won by this time in 2024—Jun-ho headed straight to a Hyundai dealership.

Perhaps because he had arrived in an SUV of the same brand, the salesman, who looked to be around his age, was exceptionally polite. The man seemed eager to show him various models, but Jun-ho had already decided on his purchase beforehand.

"I'm looking at the Bionic 5 Long Range."

"An excellent choice! It's an incredibly popular model, especially with our clients in their twenties. Now, as for a test drive..."

"I'd like to buy it right now."

"..."

Startled, the salesman's face instantly broke into a radiant, ear-to-ear grin. "Right this way, sir. Let me escort you to our consultation room."

Since his mind was already made up, the consultation and contract signing proceeded at lightning speed. The only issue was the long waiting list, a result of the model's immense popularity compounded by the global semiconductor shortage. However, Jun-ho already had a solution prepared.

"I don't mind a display model or a test-drive vehicle. If you can let me drive it off the lot today, I'll pay in full upfront and add an expedited processing fee." To get the car immediately, he had to bypass the usual financing tricks.

"I believe we can make that happen. No, I will personally take responsibility and ensure it happens, sir!" A fiery determination ignited in the salesman's eyes.

From that point on, the process moved at a breakneck pace. The entire contract and paperwork were finalized within an hour. Jun-ho handed the keys of his old, used SUV to a dealership employee who promised to deliver it directly to his house, and drove out of the lot in a test-drive vehicle with barely a thousand kilometers on the odometer.

Jun-ho's reason for choosing this vehicle was simple. While its fuel efficiency was average, its driving range was exceptionally long. Furthermore, being an electric vehicle meant he wouldn't have to worry about fuel once the apocalypse hit, as he could simply charge it using the shelter's solar power system. Since it was also one of the best-selling models in the country, sourcing spare parts and performing maintenance during the apocalypse would be much easier. There was no reason to hesitate. It was best to get used to driving it as soon as possible.

"As for armored vehicles... let's think about that a bit more."

Navigating the apocalypse with just a single vehicle was a naive dream. He would need at least two or three. Moreover, Jun-ho was planning a shelter that would house multiple people. From standard cars to specialized utility vehicles, he was going to need a lot of wheels.

Spending over a billion won on vehicles alone was a given, and among them, armored vehicles were an absolute necessity—and the most expensive. Whether he commissioned a domestic specialty vehicle manufacturer for modifications or imported them from armored car specialists in the US or Germany, the base cost was easily three to four hundred million won per unit. He would likely need three to five of them.

Of course, he didn't plan on buying or commissioning modifications for all of them. Not only would the costs balloon exponentially, but owning that many armored vehicles before the collapse would inevitably draw unwanted suspicion.

"I'll buy just two or three, and the rest..." Jun-ho's plan was to modify them himself in the workshop he intended to build alongside the shelter. And tomorrow, he would drive this very car to meet the man who would take charge of that shelter workshop.

"Oh? So does that mean I can drive our old SUV now?"

"Yeah. But you'll have to get your driver's license first, won't you?"

"Ah! Ah..."

Jun-hyeok, whose eyes had been sparkling at the prospect of owning 'his own car' at the age of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠twenty-three—even if it was a used one—instantly collapsed onto the sofa like the tragic protagonist of a melodrama.

"So hurry up and get your license, punk. Stop playing with your drones all day."

"I can't help it, they're so much fun! Besides, my other licenses come first. The written exam for the hunting license actually requires a decent amount of studying."

"Study hard, then. The exam is only a month away."

"Got it. But Hyung, are you really planning to stay in Busan for five days?"

"Yeah. I have a lot of business to take care of there. I might even have to stay the entire week. Anyway, I already let the gym know."

"Okay. I'm going to go work out with Purdy."

The quick-witted Purdy immediately trotted over with his leash in his mouth, waiting expectantly in front of Jun-ho, and soon the two of them headed out the door.

While Jun-hyeok continued to go to the gym four or five days a week as before, Jun-ho had recently scaled back his visits to just once or twice a week. On top of the constant pressure to enter tournaments and the daily professional offers he received, he was now confident that his martial arts skills were more than sufficient for real-world combat.

To be honest, if I went all out, even the coach wouldn't be able to... Jun-ho believed that even if his technique wasn't perfect, his raw physical strength and punching power could easily rival those in higher weight classes—perhaps even heavyweights. No, he was certain of it.

However, in an apocalypse where every Tom, Dick, and Harry carried a weapon, bare-handed fighting was merely a basic, foundational survival skill. Now that money was no longer an issue, he planned to begin training in Systema or Krav Maga in earnest.

And there was one more thing. "I'll have to make a trip to the US as well."

Learning bare-handed combat and how to fight with knives or other weapons was good. But to seriously prepare for the apocalypse, firearms training was an absolute must.

One might ask if that was really necessary when most adult South Korean men were already military reservists. But there was a world of difference between basic military service and Tactical Firearms Training. Between those who had received proper tactical training and those who hadn't, the difference in everything from reaction times in the field to overall survival rates was night and day.

Before his regression, Jun-ho ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had seen a survivor who had undergone such training in action. Their ability to adapt to different scenarios was on an entirely different level compared to an ordinary reservist like himself. He had to learn it, no matter what.

CQB (Close Quarters Battle), Force on Force (live-action combat scenarios), Low Light & No Light Shooting, Vehicle Tactics, and so on. The United States was the undisputed world leader in this kind of specialized training.

In certain states where gun regulations were loose enough for foreigners to shoot rifles, Jun-ho and Jun-hyeok could easily enroll in short-term training courses lasting under a month. Both were law-abiding citizens of an allied nation with clean records. While they were merely conscript-turned-reservists in Korea, by American standards, they qualified as 'Recon and Commando veterans.' As long as they paid the fees, they could easily attend ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠private military academies that accepted international students.

Thus, Jun-ho's plan was to spend this year building a solid foundation by attending related academies in Korea with his brother, and then head to the US next year for intensive, short-term training.

"Having money certainly makes organizing what needs to be done a lot faster."

Still, the absolute first and most crucial task was to win the auction for the abandoned school site at the Sky Forest Campsite, which he had chosen for his shelter. Jun-ho packed a week's worth of clothes into a suitcase for his trip to Busan and went to bed early.

Early the next morning.

After taking Purdy for a short run around Chuni Mountain—unlike their usual long route—Jun-ho returned, left a note for his still-sleeping brother, and stepped out of the house.

The thought of the movie Train to Busan crossed his mind, making him dismiss any idea of taking a train from the very beginning. Instead, Jun-ho climbed into the electric SUV he had purchased the day before and quietly set off toward Busan.