Hiding a House in the Apocalypse-Chapter 123.1: Message from the Dead (1)

Early in the morning, Woo Min-hee suddenly contacted me.

"Hey, senior. I’ve got some special information for you today."

Out of nowhere, she reached out and provided us with unexpected intel.

"This winter is expected to bring an extreme cold wave again. I don’t know the exact reason, but sources from Europe suggest it might be related to the rift that appeared in the Arctic. Huh? Why am I suddenly sharing this with you? Well, you can’t freeze to death before I do, can you?"

Her prediction could be wrong.

But we know how terrifying winter can be.

In South Korea, cold waves have killed more people than war.

To be precise, war destroyed infrastructure, and the people struggling to survive in its ruins couldn’t endure the winter.

Summer was passing, and autumn was approaching.

The daytime temperature still felt no different from summer, but subtle and undeniable signs of seasonal change were appearing everywhere in nature.

Thanks to Melon Mask creating the Global! Apocalypse! section on the integrated trending posts board, users from around the world—who had previously been isolated—could now communicate more conveniently and actively.

Within this positive change, we found posts containing information similar to what Woo Min-hee had mentioned.

One post came from a survivor in the devastated Netherlands who, by sheer luck, accessed a satellite control °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° center and shared a photo with us.

LLM_Nibbixwoud: Something is definitely wrong with the Arctic. I’m not an expert, so I can’t fully explain it, but look at this. This is not the Arctic we know. Something’s happening. Something beyond our imagination.

The satellite image they shared showed the Arctic shrouded in dense clouds, resembling fog.

That gray mist somehow reminded me of what I had seen in Jeju.

LLM_Nibbixwoud: Before the war, global warming was one of our biggest concerns. It was an undeniable fact that human activity was raising Earth’s temperature. But nuclear weapons alone couldn’t have caused such a drastic temperature drop. That doesn’t make sense, does it?

Their post sparked a surge of interest and agreement among users.

After all, we had all suffered through deadly winters.

However, when asked whether the Arctic’s changes were directly responsible for the extreme cold waves of the past two years, the poster had no definitive answer.

Proving a link between the Arctic mist and current weather patterns wasn’t easy, and there was no shortage of hostile rebuttals.

In particular, those who were almost fanatically attached to the idea of climate change lashed out at the Dutch user’s claims.

According to them, even the extreme cold waves were just another consequence of global warming.

I have neither knowledge nor interest in meteorology.

To me, weather data was nothing more than tactical information provided by specialized departments.

However, when it came to the blind criticism aimed at the Dutch survivor... I wasn’t so sure.

Since the rifts opened, we had seen countless things—things we once took for granted, things we firmly believed in—become completely meaningless in an instant.

I found myself trusting this Dutch user’s words.

The cold waves would come again.

Our group’s preparations for the coming winter weren’t bad.

We had enough food and equipment, and since we received this information while it was still autumn, we had ample time to prepare.

But... would that be enough?

Would it be enough for only Viva! Apocalypse! users to know this information?

From the moment we signed up, agreed to the terms, and started paying our subscription fees, we knew that Viva! Apocalypse! was a networking tool for survivors.

In reality, our mortality rate was significantly lower than that of non-users.

Even in the apocalypse, information remained invaluable.

I had chosen my bunker’s location specifically to be far enough from Seoul—not just for safety, but to receive early warnings about threats I couldn’t personally counter.

Until now, simply surviving on my own had been overwhelming, and I believed that was enough.

But as more and more people disappeared, and as the empty spaces left behind by the dead increased, I realized... it wasn’t a good feeling.

People were necessary. People like us—people we could communicate and interact with—were necessary.

Compared to before the apocalypse, this shift in my thinking was the most significant change in my mindset.

SKELTON: (Skelton’s Suggestion) If another extreme cold wave is coming, shouldn’t we let people know?

For once, I posted a constructive suggestion on the board.

As always, my post received almost no response.

The only reply I got was some snide remark from a user I didn’t recognize.

Anonymous1883: And tell them for what? Just let them freeze to death. Let’s keep this to ourselves. LOL.

No doubt another scumbag who had killed an old user and stolen their gear.

And yet, for some reason, they seemed to have developed a twisted sense of superiority.

Did they think just logging into our board made them special?

Ironically, it was one of our board’s oldbies who gave me a positive response.

That damn bastard.

Foxgames: I fully support Skelton’s idea! Even if we’re not sure a cold wave is coming, I think we should all work together to spread this information as widely as possible!

Didn’t I block this guy?

What’s his angle?

Well, it was obvious.

His reputation had been going down the drain lately, so he was probably just trying to do some damage control by pretending to care.

I considered deleting his comment for about three seconds but decided to leave it.

His motives didn’t matter—his words were right.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

I wanted as many people as possible to survive this winter.

The problem was how to spread the message.

Right now, our only means of communication were the K-Walkie-Talkie, Defender’s radio equipment, and satellite internet.

The radio to Jeju was out of the question.

It wasn’t something we could freely use anyway.

With just these options, getting the information to people far away wouldn’t be easy.

Ideally, Viva! Apocalypse! users across different regions would take the initiative to spread the warning through whatever public frequencies they had access to.

A chain reaction of goodwill, so to speak.

Of course, I knew this was the kind of naïve, flower-filled fantasy that only idealists entertained.

Trying to help others could easily backfire, revealing our locations and getting our bunkers—and our lives—taken.

I could spam over ten posts per second if I wanted, but I hesitated to take action.

Frustrated, I turned to the English board for advice.

Unlike our board, the English section had a much larger user base, and with more people came more skilled individuals.

Using the auto-translate function, I posted the following message:

SKELTON: (Skelton’s Question) If another cold wave is coming, isn’t it wrong for only us to know about it?

I didn’t expect quick replies. My posts rarely got responses.

But unexpectedly, I got an answer right away.

GeraldOx992: Everyone already knows. What are you talking about?

I immediately replied.

SKELTON: (Skelton Confused) What?

A stupid question met with a stupidly simple answer.

GeraldOx992: Haven’t you heard of Necropolis?

Oh.

Right.

North America had Necropolis, a public survival network for everyone.

I had always been aware of it, but since it wasn’t something I was used to, I hadn’t thought of it right away.

The problem was that Necropolis only operated in North America.

Its reach hadn’t extended to South Korea.

We needed a different solution.

I asked another question on the English board.

SKELTON: (Skelton’s Question) I’m in Korea. We don’t have Necropolis here. What’s the best way to spread the warning about the cold wave?

This time, no one responded.

*

The internet was important, but the reality we faced every day was even more pressing.

To prepare for the coming winter, we focused on securing food supplies.

Right now, the most immediate food source we had was the rice I had personally planted and cultivated.

There had been a few close calls, but the rice I had tilled, sown, and nurtured now stood tall among the surrounding weeds, ready to bow its golden heads in harvest.

Cheon Young-jae and I walked through the ripening field, taking in the sight.

“Wow. This is pretty serious. How did you even manage this?”

It wasn’t a huge amount.

With the number of people we had now, it wasn’t nearly enough to feed everyone in our territory.

At best, it was a luxury, a special meal that would last for a few days at most.

But freshly harvested, steaming hot rice would provide more than just nutrition—it would boost morale.

Any Korean would have a nostalgic attachment to rice.

There were two main things crucial for surviving winter: food to last through the season and fuel for warmth.

Fuel was more important, but the two were practically inseparable.

To be honest, our food situation was quite abundant.

Not only did we have enough to last through this winter, but we had enough to make it through next year’s winter as well.

My stockpile was already significant, but the supplies our new members had brought with them weren’t insignificant either.

Even Cheon Young-jae, who had arrived with nothing but a backpack, joked that most of the weight in his bag was food.

The ones with the least food were the Defender siblings. But for them, who had a very different mindset from us—where they had no qualms about raiding others or even killing for supplies—an immediate food shortage probably wasn’t much of a concern.

At least they weren’t eating people.

Regardless, even if we had an abundance of food for now, I wanted to preserve our emergency rations as a last resort.

What I had in mind was pemmican.

I planned to hunt and use the meat to create long-lasting survival food for the winter.

I had run out of cranberries as a flavoring agent, but my tolerance for unpleasant flavors had grown just as much as my supply had shrunk.

I could endure a little gamey meat odor if it meant securing food.

"Still nothing."

Above us, Hong Da-jeong’s drone hovered in the sky.

She was utterly useless in terms of productivity, so I had to assign her at least something to do.

The contrast between her and Bang Jae-hyuk’s mother couldn’t be more stark—while Hong Da-jeong wasted time, the old woman never stopped moving, constantly improving our quality of life with small agricultural efforts and homemade side dishes.

When she first arrived, I thought of her as baggage that came along with her son.

But seeing the sheer diligence she displayed and the changes she brought, it now felt like Bang Jae-hyuk was the one who had been dragged along with her.

Anyway, Hong Da-jeong’s drone was currently scanning for Mutations.

Eating mutations had been unthinkable in the early days of the war.

But over the past three years, mutations had proven to be a viable food source.

For some unknown reason, mutated animals actually tasted better than their original forms.

I hadn’t touched it myself, but even the cat meat we had hunted before had been deemed ‘not bad’ by the others.

In Jeju, they supplemented their meat supply with mutated cattle, so it couldn’t be that bad.

The problem was that mutations weren’t easy to hunt.

It wasn’t just the difficulty of taking them down—if a mutation actively tried to avoid humans, there was little we could do.

Even when mutated whales rampaged in the ocean, there wasn’t much humanity could do to stop them.

Even the black one that had wandered into my territory had caused me endless trouble.

But at least we had confirmed that there was a herd of mutated boars in the south.

With some luck, we might be able to secure a large supply of fresh meat.

After finishing the day’s work, I returned to the bunker and booted up my laptop.

“Hmm?”

There was a notification.

Someone had left a comment on one of my posts.

Could it be a reply to the post I made in the early hours?

I didn’t expect much.

The English board wasn’t full of geniuses either. fɾēewebnσveℓ.com

Like us, they had their share of trolls and toxic users.

The Human Leather Craftsman, the latest villain on our board, was a type that had been common on the English board ever since the war first broke out.

Still, I checked the comment as I took off my jacket.

Deadman_working: Looks like Korea doesn’t have Necropolis, huh?

Predictable. Not exactly groundbreaking information.

I sighed.

Tap tap tap.

SKELTON: Yeah. We don’t. Wish someone would bring it here.

I watched as my message was auto-translated, then headed for the shower.

After washing up, I climbed down the ladder and took a sip from my personal coffee milk stored in the underground fridge.

“Mm~.”

The perfect blend of skim milk powder and coffee mix—absolute perfection.

I could feel the exhaustion of the day melting away.

Returning to my computer, I noticed a new message.

Message from Deadman_working: Can we talk for a bit?

The same guy from before.

I had nothing better to do, so I agreed.

SKELTON: Sure.

I expected nothing more than some casual, meaningless conversation—something light enough to unwind after a long day.

But the moment I sent my reply, my screen suddenly went dark.

A crisp white message appeared in the void.

Message from Deadman_working: Are you Twelve Square?