Hiding a House in the Apocalypse-Chapter 105.4: Stay (4)

"There have been some from the Chinese side. More precisely, they were registered as Taiwanese aircraft, but since they don't respond to our radio calls, there's a possibility they were seized by China."

"Did China take over Taiwan?"

The winner of the China-Taiwan war was never clearly determined.

Both nations ceased to exist in the midst of their conflict, a classic case of mutually assured destruction.

However, I do remember news reports during the war stating that the Chinese military had successfully landed a large invasion force on Taiwan.

"They didn't take the entire island. But their marines did manage to secure the air force bases at the rear."

The pilot stared longingly at the spent cigarette before tossing it to the ground and shifting his gaze toward the window.

"Japanese aircraft have also been making occasional appearances."

"Military planes?"

"Yes, reconnaissance aircraft. They seemed curious about our situation. Scrambles against them used to be a regular occurrence last year."

"Why?"

"They must have had their reasons. We tried to establish communication, but they feigned ignorance. Still, even their incursions have decreased significantly this year. Their own situation must have deteriorated."

A large civilian aircraft lifted off from the runway.

Once, it had carried passengers chasing dreams of overseas travel. Now, it sprayed defoliant over Jeju, killing off the vegetation.

Though the sky was clear and blue, the island’s signature dull, ashen atmosphere was inescapable—even at the airport.

Perhaps the empty corridors around us made the place feel even more desolate.

As I sat in silence, passing time with the taciturn pilot, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed through the hall.

A woman in a white uniform.

She wore a Gukwiwon badge and walked straight toward me.

"Are you Park Gyu?"

"Yes, I am."

Like most people in Jeju, she appeared to be barely in her early twenties. Yet, her demeanor was meticulous, shaped by long years of experience.

She carefully compared my face to the tablet she held and requested a fingerprint scan, along with confirmation of my name and date of birth.

Once my identity was verified, she finally introduced herself.

"I'm Choi Hyun-joo from the Gukwiwon Immigration Bureau."

She meticulously reviewed my cargo manifest, the items I was required to return, and any other necessary procedures.

There were no missing items, and I had no lingering attachments.

Finally, she confirmed my request.

"You’re planning to stay on the mainland for a year?"

"Yes, that’s correct."

I answered clearly, blinking as I did.

"Will you continue using your current residence?"

"Yes. I heard I can lease it out for up to a year while I'm away."

Of course, my real intention was to leave Jeju for good.

But officially, I was listed as conducting a year-long reconnaissance mission on the mainland.

I had no sentimental ties to this island—I could walk away without looking back.

Yet, there was a pressing reason I couldn’t just abandon everything so easily.

Choi Hyun-joo asked for the pilot’s understanding.

The 𝘮ost uptodat𝑒 novels are pub𝙡ished on freeweɓnovēl.coɱ.

He took the opportunity to check on the aircraft’s maintenance and stepped away.

Now, only she and I remained in the vast, empty airport lobby.

She studied her records, then looked at me with gleaming eyes.

"Is it true?"

"?"

"That you hunted a monster alone? That you took down an Executioner-type—one of the worst small-class variants—using nothing but melee weapons?"

Judging by her reaction, she wasn’t an Awakened herself.

She was just one of the fortunate, chosen ordinary citizens permitted to live in Jeju.

"...I had no other choice if I wanted to survive."

She glanced around before continuing in a hushed yet fervent voice.

"I've heard about you, Professor. They say you were the strongest hunter before the Awakened appeared—that the first generation of Awakened saw you as a threat."

Her enthusiasm didn’t come as a surprise.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

I had encountered countless people like her in the past.

And every time, my response remained the same.

"A protruding nail gets hammered down."

I answered the question but kept my tone detached.

There was no need to exaggerate, nor any reason to hide the truth.

Yet, it seemed my reputation wasn’t just based on my past.

"You faced a monster just a few days ago, and now you’re volunteering for mainland ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) reconnaissance? That’s not something an ordinary person would do."

She respected not only my past achievements but also my recent choices.

"...The aversion to combat keeps growing. More and more people are feigning injuries, and Over-5 Level Awakened are using underhanded tricks to get classified as Level 4."

Choi Hyun-joo’s expression turned sour as she shook her head in frustration.

"Because of this, Rift closures keep getting delayed."

Then she looked at me.

"In these times, someone like you is a true role model."

I had no response to that.

I wasn’t much of a talker to begin with.

And more importantly, this woman had no idea why I was really leaving Jeju.

The truth was buried beneath the surface.

- PICKUP! - PICKUP! - PICKUP!

The gacha pull was a complete success.

I used a free 10-pull ticket, and on my first try, I managed to recruit the hottest characters in the game.

But here was the catch—I had no idea how good they were.

I wasn’t even playing Red Archive seriously. I had only started participating in the board because it was more active and had fewer restrictions than other forums.

But even I knew one thing.

- No flexing.

That was one of the golden rules.

Posting obvious, childish brags—like someone taking a picture of their coffee while subtly including a Porsche steering wheel in the background—was a surefire way to get backlash.

And in Red Archive, the equivalent of a humblebrag was a gacha pull flex.

Yet, in my excitement, I made a mistake.

SKELTON: Just did a gacha pull~

At the time, I didn’t realize my blunder.

Then, the comments flooded in.

FruitStandNiceGuy: The hell?!

CreditMe: This bastard, posting something like this?!

CrumpledDrawing: Goodbye.

Sparrow: GG.

QuantumExplosion: ?! Skelton, delete it now!

And just like that, I was banned for 30 days.

A short time, yet painfully long when you have no one to talk to on this godforsaken island.

So I turned to the appeal posts.

I saw others pleading for unbans, including a guy named Bee, who was let off the hook after writing a single-sentence apology.

If that was all it took, then I would do the same.

SKELTON: I'm sorry for flexing my gacha pull. I didn’t know the rules as a new user. Please give me a second chance. I promise to follow the board etiquette from now on.

I made mine longer, more thoughtful—clearly the words of a mature user.

Surely, the mods would appreciate my sincerity.

But then...

"Hmm?"

My ban wasn’t lifted.

A whole day passed, and I remained locked out.

Then I checked the appeal thread again.

There was a reply.

Sparrow: Skelton, you’re not getting unbanned.

"?"

...Why the hell not?

SKELTON: If QuantumExplosion is the problem, then give me a chance. If you unban me, I’ll immediately curse him out.

Sparrow: Really?

A miracle.

We’re actually having a conversation.

So, in the end, it all came down to QuantumExplosion being the root of the problem.

The moment I regained my posting privileges, I fulfilled my promise to the admin without hesitation.

SKELTON: Look here, QuantumExplosion.

- I’m done with you. Don’t act friendly in my posts ever again.

“...”

I felt a little bad for him, but it couldn't be helped.

Sometimes, you have to throw someone under the bus to survive.

Unfortunately, QuantumExplosion’s reaction was rather pitiful.

QuantumExplosion: ?

“Sorry,” I muttered aloud, even as I continued my denouncement.

SKELTON: I said don’t reply!

I could have gone harsher, but outright profanity would have damaged the “Kelton” image I had built. So, I kept my language as mild and vague as possible.

QuantumExplosion: ...Why? 😢 (A cute girl crying emoji)

QuantumExplosion: I trusted you!

SKELTON: ...

I said nothing.

That was my answer.

It was a bitter thing, but such was the life of Skelton in Red Archive.

Someday, people would look back on this as just another forum drama.

But then—

Someone else messaged me.

Sparrow: LOLLLLLL

It was the admin.

I immediately greeted him with enthusiasm.

SKELTON: (Absolute loyalty to Skelton) Is this enough?!

Sparrow: Damn, you’re really new, huh. Hey, dumbass. Do you even know who QuantumExplosion is?

SKELTON: ?

Sparrow: That idiot might seem dumb, but he’s a high-ranking official in Gukwiwon. He’s the reason our board got turned into a secret forum.

SKELTON: ?!

Sparrow: Well, goodbye, newbie.

As soon as the chat closed, a warning message popped up.

[Access to the Red Archive board has been denied.]

“?”

I suddenly couldn’t enter the board.

Was the program bugging out?

I reinstalled the Red Archive app using the file Na Hye-in had given me.

Still nothing.

And when I finally got back in...

The Red Archive had changed into a bizarre, incomprehensible place.

No human language.

Only an endless flood of emojis.

“...”

Did they trick me?

Did the Red Archive admin set me up, manipulating me into turning on QuantumExplosion—only to use his influence as a high-ranking Gukwiwon officer to erase me?

I could think of no other explanation.

“...”

I took a solid hit this time.

Sure, my ignorance was to blame, but that didn’t change the fact that in a place where ignorance equals death, I had no excuse.

And beyond everything else—this pissed me off.

For the first time in a while, a seething rage boiled over my usual cold detachment.

At that moment, I recalled someone I had almost forgotten.

“...!”

That’s right.

John Nae-non.

Was this how my idol had felt?

When he was publicly humiliated in our forum—was this the anger that drove him into self-imposed exile?

If so, then fine.

Just as John Nae-non had done, Skelton would now walk the same path.

Message from Ballantine:

"Huh? Are you asking if it's possible to breach Jeju's intranet using Viva! Apocalypse’s satellite network?"

There was someone who had done it before.

An engineer so skilled that he had once broken into the Viva! Apocalypse network, something far more secure than Jeju’s.

Message from Ballantine:

"I'll have to analyze it more, but it doesn’t seem that hard. Looks like they’re using outdated security protocols that haven’t been updated in ages."

"But unlike last time, I’m working alone now, so it’ll take some time. At the very least, I’ll need a powered-on computer with both satellite and intranet access. Also, I need some guarantee of my safety. :)"

SKELTON: Then please, do it.

This was why I had volunteered for a mainland reconnaissance mission.

"Flight 1083 is scheduled to depart soon. All passengers, please proceed to Gate 13 for boarding."

It was time.

My luggage was already on the plane.

I just had to board.

"I wish you good health and safety on the mainland."

With Choi Hyun-joo’s polite farewell, I walked down the corridor.

Large screens lined the walls, playing broadcasts.

Normally, it was just government propaganda.

But today, it was different.

A breaking news alert was on the screen.

Then, a voice came through the speakers—

"Kang Han-min, the savior, has emerged from the Rift after a long mission."

I froze mid-step.

"..."

Kang Han-min?

He finally came back from the Rift?

There were almost no ways to get news about him outside Jeju.

I turned to face the TV.

The screen showed a massive crowd.

But no Kang Han-min.

Meanwhile, the announcement played again.

"All passengers for Flight 1083, please proceed to Gate 13 immediately."

Damn it.

Of all times—

I wanted to see him, even just for a second.

But I had no time left.

I started walking again.

Then, in the corner of my eye—

Amid the endless sea of people, a single man emerged.

His face was blank. Gaunt. Expressionless.

It was a face I knew—

And yet, at the same time, one I didn’t know at all.

One thing was clear.

Kang Han-min.

At least to my eyes—

He no longer looked human.