Unlike the Others (1)
"Three years? Five? If we were just trying to hold out that long, there would be no need to dump our entire fortune into crypto. The money we already have would be enough. But our goal is to build a place where we can survive for at least twenty to thirty years—or even a lifetime, if possible. To do that, we have to eliminate as many variables as we can. That’s why we need to run these experiments and practice here."
"Yeah. I understand what you mean. I really do."
"Good. Let’s try everything we can in this house."
"Okay!"
Jun-ho chuckled at his younger brother, who shouted with his hand raised high. Then, as if something had suddenly occurred to him, Jun-hyeok spoke up.
"But, Hyung. Are we only living in this house for the duration of the contract? With the basement and everything else, we’re going to be setting up a lot of things to practice and experiment. It’d be a waste to just leave it all behind, wouldn't it?"
"Do you really think I’d just leave it behind? I’ve thought about that, too..."
Just then, his phone vibrated in his pocket, and Jun-ho pulled it out.
"Hello? Ah, yes. You’re arriving soon? Understood. I’ll wait out front."
"Who is it?"
"The person helping us with our experiment."
"Huh?"
"Follow me. Put these in the fridge upstairs first."
Jun-ho greeted the driver of the small truck standing in front of the gate.
"You’re from Sky Security, right?"
"Yes, yes. Ah, is this the house?"
"Yes. How should we handle the vehicle? Would it be easier to park it in the yard?"
"That would be best for now."
As he swung the gate wide open, the truck pulled into the yard. Jun-hyeok, who had followed him out, asked, "Hyung, where did this guy come from?"
"A CCTV installation company."
"...?"
Jun-hyeok tilted his head. He wondered if it was really necessary to call a professional company just to install a few cameras in a house. But within ten minutes, he understood why.
"Customer, I’ve been doing this for over ten years. This is my first time installing this product in a regular home. I hate to say this to a client, but are you sure about this camera?"
"Yes. It wasn't available for 'Mach Delivery,' and it would be difficult to install on my own."
At Jun-ho’s words, the installer wore an expression of disbelief.
"Well, of course. The camera alone costs over 7 million won."
"What? One CCTV costs 7 million...!?"
The installer turned to Jun-hyeok, whose eyes had gone wide.
"It’s very expensive, right? But this isn't a standard security camera; it’s a high-performance PTZ Camera. It has 30x optical zoom, digital zoom... and the night-vision IR goes up to 400 meters. It can monitor 360 degrees and uses lasers to lock focus. On top of that, it comes with optical modules, vibration-dampening plates, and a lot of other specialized components. That’s why the installation requires such extreme care."
"...I don’t really know what you’re saying, but I can tell it’s incredible, sir."
Jun-hyeok was simply awestruck. The camera the technician pulled from the truck boasted an imposing presence, even just from the size of the box and the photo printed on the exterior.
'I’m going to install about ten of these in our shelter.'
"...!"
At Jun-ho’s whisper, Jun-hyeok’s eyes widened even further.
"Anyway, please be thorough. Handle the costs as we discussed yesterday. Are you just checking the locations today?"
"Yes. That seems to be the plan for now. As for the other CCTV you purchased separately... is that it?"
The technician examined the box Jun-ho had brought up from the basement. It was a common, small, circular CCTV camera. Compared to the PTZ camera, which was the size of a computer tower or a microwave, it looked incredibly cute and tiny.
"Hmm, it’s a decent product. Honestly, we don’t usually just install CCTVs that customers buy separately. There’s almost no margin in it for us. But since the PTZ camera you bought is so high-end, I’ll do it for just the labor cost."
"Thank you. Then, this way."
Jun-ho led the technician around the yard and along the perimeter wall, pointing out the spots he had pre-selected. The technician offered his own professional opinion, and Jun-ho decided to follow his advice. After all, a veteran with over ten years of experience would know much better than he did.
"Understood, customer. Then, when do you plan to install the solar panels?"
"As early as this Friday? Next week at the latest."
"Then I’ll just do the wiring work today. Should I proceed with the main installation right after the solar panels are up?"
"Let’s do that."
Perhaps because he was a client who had generated nearly 8 million won in revenue—between the expensive PTZ camera and the travel and labor fees—the technician finished the wiring with meticulous care.
Jun-hyeok watched the PTZ camera box being loaded back onto the truck, licking his lips. "Man, that thing has such an intense presence. It must be even crazier in action, right?"
"Who knows. Regardless, I chose it because it’s the most suitable for our shelter. They said it was originally designed for military bases and critical facility surveillance. It works perfectly in Alaska and the desert, apparently."
"That’s insane. But even if the shelter needs it, is it really necessary to mount something like that here?"
Jun-ho answered as he headed back into the house. "I was going to mention this in the basement earlier. I don’t intend for this house to just be for rehearsals and experiments."
"Huh? Then?"
"Just in case... I’m keeping it as a backup for when I might need to come near this area."
"Really? But the walls here are low, so it’d be easy for other people to break in..."
"That’s why I chose a house with a basement. We’ll keep everything important, starting with the food, in the basement, and just seal the entrance well. As for the house, we need to make it look like an abandoned ruin where no one has lived for at least half a year before we move into the shelter."
In Jun-ho’s experience, that was the key. Not only survivors but even looters tended to avoid houses that clearly looked abandoned long before the apocalypse. After all, food scavenging was the top priority, and it was unlikely there would be anything edible in a house that had been empty for a long time.
"Besides, there aren’t many people here to begin with, right? It’s strange enough that a house exists in a location like this, and there’s almost no one who would come this far."
"I guess that’s true. Honestly, even I wondered if anyone actually lived in a place like this in Bucheon when I was coming here yesterday."
"Yeah. I haven’t been to this neighborhood since the situation broke out, but I’m sure there were no people or zombies here either. Come on, let’s go in. We need to finish unpacking."
"Right."
The brothers finished moving in around 5:00 PM. They decided to grab dinner at a restaurant not far from the house. He didn't know why a baeksuk (boiled chicken) place would be in such a remote area, but even in the middle of a pandemic, the fact that there wasn't a single car in the lot past 5:00 PM suggested business wasn't exactly booming.
"Welcome!"
A middle-aged woman who had been watching TV greeted them warmly and showed them to a table.
"Oh my, how did you young men find your way out here? Did you see us on the internet?"
"Oh, we..."
Jun-ho cut Jun-hyeok off. "Yes. We saw it online. We heard it was delicious. One duck baeksuk and an extra bowl of rice, please."
"Yes, yes, just a moment. I’ll make it delicious for you right away."
As the woman hurried to the kitchen, Jun-hyeok whispered in a low voice.
"Why? It’s a struggling place, if we told them we just moved in nearby, they might have given us better service."
"We’re here to scout."
"What...?"
Jun-hyeok was taken aback by the unexpected answer.
"We’re supposed to be doing apocalypse rehearsals. It’s not good for anyone to know we live in that house."
"Ah... right."
While Jun-hyeok set down his utensils, Jun-ho poured some water and continued. "I saw it when we walked in—this is just a restaurant with no living quarters attached. Since they close at 9:00 PM, I don’t think we need to be that guarded."
"Wow, you even thought of that?"
"Of course. Anyway, given the location and the pandemic, it looks like business is slow. They might even close down next year. Actually, that would be for the best."
"Holy..."
It was a cold-blooded remark, but Jun-hyeok accepted it immediately. They had to prepare for an apocalypse where 70 to 80 percent of the population would die or turn into zombies; worrying about a restaurant near a house they had visited for the first time today was a luxury.
"Anyway, what are we doing now, Hyung? Specifically. And what should I be doing?"
"For now, focus on getting your drone license and hunting license, just like I said yesterday. It’s not that hard, so you should be able to get them all by next spring."
When Jun-ho held out his smartphone, Jun-hyeok checked the screen and nodded.
"The hunting license is in April. I can apply for the firearm possession permit after I get that."
"Right. The drone license is Class 3, so it won’t be difficult. You can take it anytime, and you just need to log the flight hours at the training center, so it’s simple. I’ve already applied for you."
"Okay. But I should practice at home too, right?"
"Yeah. That’s why we moved here. You can fly them comfortably."
There were no high-rise buildings in the vicinity, just a scrapyard and a few two-story houses. It was an excellent environment for drone flight practice.
"So, I just need to keep working out and prepare for the qualification exams?"
"Yeah, that’s all you need to do for now. But..."
Jun-ho paused as the rice and side dishes arrived. Once the woman returned to the kitchen, he continued.
"You don’t have to live your life only according to a schedule. Meet Hyun-woo, meet your other acquaintances, and just live your life."
"Uh, I get that, but... why? You said we have a little over two years left, right? Shouldn't we be preparing as hard as we can?"
Jun-ho, who had taken a sip of water, set his glass down and stared at his brother. Jun-hyeok felt even more puzzled by the strange emotion in his brother’s gaze. Finally, Jun-ho spoke again.
"We only have two years left to live our daily lives like this... as if nothing is wrong."
"...!"
"So, enjoy it as much as you can while you still can. But don’t slack off too much; keep doing what you need to do. You know what I mean, right?"
"...Yeah."
Jun-hyeok bowed his head. Having a set time limit. He felt like he understood, if only just a little, what that meant.
A moment later, the duck baeksuk arrived, and the brothers stopped talking and focused on eating. Thus, one more peaceful day before the apocalypse passed by.
* * *
The days from the day after the move until the weekend flew by. Once they faxed the consent form to the landlord and submitted the application for solar power, the subsequent procedures and installation schedule were handled like clockwork by the construction company connected by the city hall. It was so smooth it was almost baffling, but they said it was because residential solar power was a project the city was aggressively pushing as part of their eco-friendly energy initiative.
Jun-ho applied for a 3-kilowatt solar power system, consisting of five 600-watt panels. He also spent some extra money to select a hybrid inverter and a 10-kilowatt ESS battery. This way, they wouldn't have to rely solely on solar power and could connect a diesel generator to use in emergency situations. It was a system he had in mind as the shelter’s basic power grid, so he wanted to gain some experience with it beforehand.
In the meantime, Jun-ho finally underwent a comprehensive medical checkup. He went through everything—from physical measurements to vision, hearing, blood pressure, ECG, chest X-ray, internal medicine consultation, blood tests, gastric endoscopy, and a brain CT scan—all while feeling incredibly tense. At Jun-ho’s request, as he had paid a premium and wanted the results quickly, they came back in just a few days.
Jun-ho visited the hospital feeling even more nervous than when he had taken the exam. Fortunately, the results showed absolutely nothing wrong. Most importantly, his brain’s limbic system was normal, and the blood test confirmed that his immune system was functioning perfectly—the biggest relief, as an infection would have shown abnormalities in his blood.
In fact, a surprising fact was revealed in a different sense.
"Are you really just a regular office worker?"
Even the doctor was astonished. Jun-ho’s basal metabolic rate reached a staggering 2,800 kilocalories, his vascular condition was at the level of someone in their early twenties, and his lung capacity was on par with a professional swimmer. His muscle mass was also difficult to reconcile with someone who had just started jogging, and his fatigue levels were extremely low. The doctor even asked him seriously if he was a former athlete.
After dodging the doctor’s series of amazed questions and leaving the hospital, Jun-ho felt a bit dazed, but he could finally be certain of one thing.
He would not be turning into a zombie.
"Haa, thank goodness..."
Truly, thank goodness.