Hiding a House in the Apocalypse-Chapter 133.3: Fair Trade (3)

In Necropolis, nicknames mean nothing.

There’s no option to set one in the first place.

Everyone operates under the same name: “Deadman.”

To allow for a little individuality, the system appends a number and a region after “Deadman.” But that number changes randomly and frequently.

Because of that, trading through Necropolis is far more tedious than pre-war secondhand marketplaces.

A smart user should avoid using Necropolis for deals when possible and instead rely on more refined and convenient networks.

“Can I borrow your Viva! account for the trade?”

I borrowed King’s account.

Since King rarely posts—he’s more of a lurker—it wasn’t a problem to use his Viva! Apocalypse! profile for a transaction.

Even a nickname search wouldn’t turn up anything embarrassing.

“Oh? So this is how you deal with the Chinese, huh?”

We had an audience.

King’s computer room, like every other room in his palace, was large and had a high ceiling. A slightly tacky carpet covered the floor, but the place was lined with plush office furniture and dozens of cameras and broadcasting equipment.

This was the very room where King used to summon his girls and run pre-apocalypse livestreams—those old “donation bomb” shows, full of spectacle.

Now, though that era of streaming had ended, the scene was familiar: King, Sue, and—for some reason—a handful of King’s women had gathered to watch me conduct this trade.

Naturally, I—who maintain my dignity anywhere—voiced my objection, especially since one of those women was someone who’d once tried to sneak into my bed and got kicked out for it.

King’s reply, however, had some merit.

“Who’s gonna drive out the Chinese at this point? What would they even gain from taking over with their tiny numbers? If there’s something we both need, then trade’s the way to go. If they’ve got the equivalent of a field army’s worth of supplies stored up, why not use our idle ladies here to open up the channel? It’s a win-win.”

In short, through me—Park Gyu—King planned to passively train his people in apocalypse-era online trading.

Well, if that’s the goal, then even I have to nod along.

I don’t exactly like teaching. Never have. But I do enjoy putting on what you might call a “veteran instructor’s demo,” which I used to do often back in my professor days.

Confession: I got a bit of a kick from hearing rookies gasp at my near-artistic skills.

And though the skill has shifted from combat to internet shopping, I take pride in my online finesse—it’s practically combat-tier at this point.

Tap tap tap

So began the not-so-simple quest: making a trade with a Chinese user while a full audience looked on.

CrunchRoll: Hello.

Always start with a greeting.

A light gesture—but here’s where the real challenge began.

Because this Chinese seller, caocao, was no pushover.

Though his Korean is clumsy, he’s gained a reputation for being able to sniff out scammers and problem users with uncanny precision.

The prime example? A guy I’ll now introduce—Kim Dong-hung.

KIM_DONG_HUNG: What, don’t wanna trade with a handsome guy? Why you ignoring me, Caocao?

This guy showed up earlier this spring—a new influx case.

No prior online footprint.

Looks like he lucked into some gear—either stumbled across it or picked it off someone else.

He’s never revealed his age, but everyone figures he’s late forties to fifties.

No need to guess, honestly—he floods the boards with selfies and garbage posts. Not just regular spamming, but criminal-level output—around 50 posts an hour.

I block him on sight. Even VivaBot, which is notoriously strict with me, seems to dislike him.

Anyway, during the brief moment I stepped away from the screen, this lunatic was apparently busy decorating the forums with his garbage again.

But whatever—VivaBot can handle it.

The important thing is this: the Chinese seller handled Kim Dong-hung perfectly.

You can see it in the comment thread on caocao’s product listing.

caocao: Your reputation—not good.

KIM_DONG_HUNG: What’s wrong with my reputation?

caocao: We only trade with users who have written over 1,000 posts and responded to others. It’s to prevent scams.

KIM_DONG_HUNG: I’ve posted over 10,000 times.

caocao: A user with a post-to-reply ratio of 10,000:0 is not trustworthy. We do not trade with such nonsense users.

KIM_DONG_HUNG: Why reply at all? You just need to post.

caocao: Your reputation is poor. High risk of scam. You are blocked.

caocao: We want peaceful, fair trade.

And it wasn’t just Kim Dong-hung.

Caocao sniffed out other shady new users with eerie accuracy and completely avoided trading with them.

Which leads to one reassuring realization—

If even a nitpicky guy like caocao was willing to talk to me, that meant my reputation wasn’t so bad after all.

“This Chinese guy checks online history. He only opens up to people who seem trustworthy based on their record.”

I said this aloud to the watching crowd.

Sue, standing beside me, muttered quietly.

“Really? But Skelton’s reputation sucks...”

Looks like I need to remind Rebecca to spend more time on parenting.

In the apocalypse, survival matters—but being a decent human being comes first.

That’s a belief I’ve held firmly for a long time.

A moment later, a message came through.

Message from caocao: Who is this?

Message from caocao: I don’t recognize you. Hello!

“...?”

Did I read that right?

Had their Baido translator dramatically improved in just a few days?

Because suddenly, the Chinese user was speaking incredibly natural Korean.

Then again, it could just be a copy-pasted greeting.

Anyone can mimic that.

Ctrl+C, Ctrl+V. Prewritten templates.

Before putting on a proper show for King and his ladies, I offered some commentary.

“The Chinese use their own translator, but it’s not great. So to communicate properly, we need to use ‘translation-friendly’ phrasing—simple, clean Korean that the translator can handle.”

Tap tap tap

CrunchRoll: One? Memory? SKELTON, is. Spoke before.

Without turning, I added context.

“Unlike Korean—which is Altaic—Chinese sentence structure is more like English. So this kind of phrasing makes it easier for their translation engine.”

From behind, I heard King let out a mild exclamation.

“Oh?”

And whispers from the women.

“......”

Normally I wouldn’t go this far, but a veteran instructor’s demo always needs to be a little extra.

That ‘extra’ is what helps learners grasp the direction.

I continued the transaction demonstration for all to see.

CrunchRoll: SNES, FF6. Me? Memory?

caocao: Skeleton?

CrunchRoll: We spoke of trade before, didn’t we?

caocao: SKELTON.

caocao: Confirmed.

Looks like he remembered.

I doubt he was this picky at the beginning.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

But once word got out that he was selling high-quality goods for low prices, and buyers flooded in, his attitude clearly shifted.

It’s a common sight.

As I waited for his next message, I turned to Sue, who was watching the screen with curiosity.

“What do you think of the Chinese?”

“I don’t like them. The world ended because of them.”

Classic American answer.

Most Koreans would say the same—but when everything’s collapsed, borders and nations mean less than the people next to you.

If the need is real, you should be able to trade with anyone.

How stupid would it be to miss a great opportunity just because someone looks different or speaks another language?

“If someone offers a good deal, it doesn’t matter where they’re from. Ignoring someone because of their nationality or race? That’s not smart. What matters is keeping an open mind.”

As I was gently delivering this lesson, another message came in.

Message from caocao: Really sorry, but the conditions of our market have changed, Skelton.

Message from caocao: Apologies for the trouble.

I tilted my head slightly.

What’s this bullshit now?

A stir rippled through the audience behind me.

“......”

Tap tap tap

CrunchRoll: Is there a problem?

Message from caocao: I know this is sudden, but after reviewing your reputation, I’ve learned that you’re not a trustworthy user. Friend.

“Skelton?”

Ignoring Sue, I sped up my typing.

CrunchRoll: What kind of resolution must I... perform?

Message from caocao: I learned from a Korean friend that you were once involved in manipulating recommendation counts for unfair gain. Friend.

CrunchRoll: I have evidence that can explain innocence. I, possess.

“Skelton’s sounding more Chinese than the Chinese.”

Message from caocao: You’re free to explain, but we cannot trust you. We currently have many buyers—there’s no reason for us to take the risk of trading with someone like you. Your priority level is low.

CrunchRoll: Very... unjust. I.

Message from caocao: Further conversation is unnecessary. Please stop.

Laughter behind me.

“......”

Tap tap tap

CrunchRoll: Shit

Message from caocao: ?

“Skelton?!”

CrunchRoll: Mistake. It was.

Message from caocao: What was your intent?

CrunchRoll: Seed.

“Skelton...”

I stood up from my seat.

King and the onlookers all stared at me.

Ignoring their gazes, I calmly spoke.

“As expected, the Chinese can’t be trusted.”

King stared for a moment, then adjusted his mask and grumbled,

“Show them the gold.”

“?”

“Just show them the gold bar, won’t that work?”

“......”

Beginner’s luck, they call it.

Sometimes, a novice comes up with better ideas than a master.

Click.

I took a photo.

Naturally, I didn’t follow ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) King’s advice word-for-word. That’s not how a professional does things.

“Do you have a marker or paper? I’d like to leave a name tag.”

I was handed a scrap of coarse paper. I wrote my nickname on it and took more pictures from different angles.

“With deepfake tools this good, it’s essential to take multiple shots in different lighting and from multiple angles. Basic internet transaction etiquette in the age of A.I.”

Along the way, I generously shared the distilled essence of four years of hard-earned lessons.

Then I sent the photo to the Chinese trader.

CrunchRoll: I want to trade. With this.

We waited in silence.

One minute passed. Two.

“Maybe they blocked you?”

Maybe I shouldn’t have brought Sue.

That regret was circling in my head when a message finally arrived.

Message from caocao: If you had something so good, you should’ve said so from the start. Our market is open to you. When and where would you like to meet? We offer all forms of short-range communication—wireless signal, Necropolis, etc.

The deal was on.

*

Following King’s advice, I was provided with an escort detail and a vehicle.

Judging by the quality of the escort, it was clear how much King’s city had grown in just a few years—from a criminal cesspit to a proper metropolis.

The vehicle wasn’t just some scrapped car patched together. It was a gas-powered four-wheel-drive SUV, fully maintained with real replacement parts. Thick armor plates covered the windows and engine bay.

The guards riding with us weren’t some ragtag militia. These guys had the presence of pre-war elite troops, geared up in full tactical kit.

The man leading them was in his mid to late thirties. His name was Jeon Sang-hee.

Contrary to his solid build and stern face, he was quite talkative.

“King doesn’t rule like he used to. Word’s been going around for a while now that his health isn’t great. You know how it is—those who really took in the fallout, they don’t last long. If you were in a bunker waiting for the dust to settle, you’re fine. But if you were outside, breathing in that fallout or unlucky enough to wander near a crater full of residual radiation... you’re a walking corpse, basically.”

Looks like no secret stays hidden forever.

If even a security officer—not one of King’s inner circle—was casually talking about it, the truth must’ve leaked out some time ago.

Well, it’s not 1000% confirmed, but still.

“The real issue is what happens if King collapses. That’s where it gets tricky. Back when the city was just slave games and ruins, no one cared. But now that it’s grown into a proper city, all the rats have come crawling out to snatch a piece. Ex-politicians, generals, lawyers, journalists... all of them.”

“There’s already a fight over succession?”

“King hasn’t named a successor yet. But... you know how it is.”

Jeon Sang-hee gave me a crooked smile.

Looks like even he knows that King is no longer physically capable of producing an heir.

“Even if King did have a kid, not many would rally behind a child anyway.”

“There’s no suitable candidates?”

“There probably are. But it always comes down to one asshole ruining it.”

There was a sharp glint in Jeon Sang-hee’s eyes.

There’s someone causing problems, clearly.

I didn’t even need to ask—he told me the name himself.

“Shim Chan-soo. Former journalist.”

“A journalist? That’s elite, isn’t it?”

To me, the military gang faction seemed like the bigger threat.

Even if public opinion isn’t great, a journalist is still better than a warlord with a private army, right?

Jeon shook his head and sighed.

“He’s just a front. A puppet.”

He looked around, then leaned in closer.

“The cult supports him.”

“...Are you serious?”

Jeon nodded grimly.

Bzzzt—

In the heavy silence, the K-walkie crackled with static.

Then a surprisingly clear, female voice flowed through in fluent Korean.

“Are you the ones here for the trade?”

A military vehicle came into view in the distance.

The red flag with five stars.

Chinese.