Hiding a House in the Apocalypse-Chapter 176.1: Salmon (1)

I already knew from Ha Tae-hoon's reports that the neighborhood next to my bunker had become a bustling construction zone thanks to the arrival of U.S. troops.

But when it came to the Chinese military—the ones who'd fought alongside us—I had no reliable way of getting any updates.

Even if we'd joined forces for that one battle, most people still harbored resentment toward China.

My interest in the Chinese troops had nothing to do with admiration or affection.

It was pressure from the government.

*

While I was stuck in the hospital, the Hunter corps under my command had been reorganized. At present, aside from Cheon Young-jae, I didn’t have a single Hunter left under me.

You could say Jeju had played a dirty trick, but the truth is, the organization was overdue for a reset.

Back when I was acting as “commander,” the Hunter corps was riddled with factions—those from schools, academies, post-war volunteers, and stragglers from Jeju. Among them were independent groups like Defender’s crew, known for their strong identities and track records in specialized fields.

It wasn’t so much a single organization as it was a coalition of several semi-autonomous ones. No wonder Kim Daram had struggled to manage it.

This restructuring was centered on unifying that fragmented mess.

Groups like Defender’s, who had solid accomplishments in specialized fields, still retained their autonomy.  But outdated allegiances and origin-based cliques? Gone.

In the process, I, who had been confined to a hospital bed, was thoroughly sidelined and banished to “Room 803,” a glorified shelf with no real authority. Ironically, it worked in my favor.

My role had ended with the Nemesis fight. Now all that remained for me was to watch Kang Han-min.

Funny how fickle people are. I used to go around saying my bunker was the best thing in the world, but now that I was being treated fairly well in the city, I couldn’t help thinking this wasn’t so bad after all.

I still mouthed off about returning to my bunker, but deep down, the desire to go back was fading.

Strictly speaking, if I could live well in the city, then the city was the better option.

Food was steady, and I didn’t have to worry about raiders storming my bunker. Plus, in a populated area, there was always something interesting to see.

I did worry about leftover fanatics who might target me, but Jeju had effectively hidden my identity. More importantly, I had a solid human shield: Defender.

Still, good days never last long.

“Ugh. Another reminder, huh?”

After over a month of loafing around, the government was starting to nudge me.

Not bold enough to give direct orders to the legendary Hunter Park Gyu, but still—subtle demands, like requests to submit a performance report.

That pressure would likely escalate after the election.

No matter how chaotic an election might be, a government with the people on its back can demand far more than one without them.

I’m not a fan of politics, but I like to think I have decent political instincts.

“Bastards. I took down a General-type—what more do they want? It’s not like I’ve been slacking off for years.”

Cheon Young-jae grumbled.

Normally I’d agree, but this was the twelfth reminder.

“Yeong-jae. That’s not it.”

“What?”

“When they’re pushing this hard, it’s human nature to at least pretend to move.”

Exactly.

It was time to start doing something—anything.

The problem was, neither I nor those Jeju bastards knew what that “something” should be.

I was too massive a figure for them to tell me what to do. And I had no clear idea of what I should be doing either.

The only thing I was really good at was monster hunting—but the reorganized Hunter corps was already handling that efficiently.

The new Hunter teams I’d implemented—composed of one Regular Awakened and three standard Hunters—were actively reclaiming not just southern Seoul, but even parts of the north in real time.

The only area I could’ve stepped in was dealing with the combat-type mid-tier monsters stored in the infiltration-type nests. But after the last battle, all those stashed combat types had completely vanished.

They had been the biggest obstacle to reclaiming the city—like submerged reefs beneath the surface—but now they were just gone.

Most likely, the Nemesis-type had pulled out all the stops in that last fight, dragging even dormant combat types into the fray.

And monsters that left the erosion zones? They would've been wiped out by the curse of Earth.

So not only had we eliminated the worst monster, but we’d also accidentally cleaned out the city’s biggest threat.

A very positive development—except now we had no ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ monsters to fight.

That made things tough for Room 803.

“...Problem is, there’s nothing left to hunt.”

“We could head south. I hear it’s crawling with monsters. I remember hearing some military depots and government factories were still occupied and rotting.”

“So that’s the move, huh.”

“What?”

Cheon Young-jae gave me a confused look.

I responded calmly.

“Beatbox.”

“Let’s head south. Take out a few mid-tier types, reclaim a factory—that counts as performance, right?”

“How about beatbox?”

“What the hell is it with you and beatboxing? You brought up the idea yourself! If we’re doing this, let’s do it properly.”

“...”

“What?”

“Isn’t the south a bit... much?”

There were parts I didn’t know well. But truthfully, I just didn’t want to take the risk.

The reason I stayed in Seoul was to keep an eye on Kang Han-min.

I had no idea what he would do, but I shared his goal. My only mission now was to watch him closely.

So no—I didn’t want to take on dangerous work.

What I needed was something safer, easier, and still flashy enough to score points.

Beep-beep-beep.

The radio crackled.

It was Cheon Young-jae’s.

“Yeah? Yeong-jae here.”

It was Ha Tae-hoon.

Like I’d mentioned before, he was getting ready to return to the city.

He’d been one of the key players in the Nemesis operation, so a hero’s welcome was all but guaranteed.

He’d already been promised a nice place and good treatment.

Word was, he’d be leading a new Hunter team.

No more grimy living like back in Incheon.

And now, he had a wife.

He was probably dreaming of a comfortable, affluent life. Not in a cramped, cold bunker.

“I’m almost ready.”

“When?”

“Soon. By the way, is Park Gyu there?”

Cheon handed me the radio.

“Hey. Tae-hoon.”

“Yeah. Park Gyu.”

Funny how he didn’t object anymore to being called ‘sunbae.’

Must’ve worked through that complex.

“Your bunker repairs are just about done.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’ve been thinking—if not many people live there, then instead of fortifying it, maybe hiding it is way more efficient. Just like you said.”

“Right?”

I never wanted to turn my territory into a fortress.

It only happened because the circumstances forced me into collective survivalism.

But I never stopped believing that in this brutal post-apocalyptic world, individual survivalism was the superior option.

Even apex predators, like tigers, choose camouflage.

“The Americans keep coming around. I can communicate with them fine, thanks to my English. And that military woman from next door smooths things over. But more and more, these guys keep wandering near my area and getting on my nerves. Wasn’t so bad when it was cold, but now that the weather’s better, I run into them a lot.”

Yeah. That’s what happens when you’re next to a large group—even friendly ones cause friction.

Not fatal, but it shows up in a hundred little ways.

“One time, a bunch of black guys were bathing naked in the stream below the bunker in broad daylight. Four degrees Celsius, and they’re splashing around like it’s nothing. Said it wasn’t a big deal, but their laughing and shouting echoed all the way up. It was just... unpleasant.”

For someone as reserved as Ha Tae-hoon to get worked up, the stress must’ve been serious.

“So yeah, I changed up your bunker. Not sure if you’ll like it, though.”

“What’d you do?”

He chuckled.

“You’ll want to see it in person.”

“Give me a hint.”

“If I had to give one... rollback?”

“Rollback?”

“Anyway, I’ll stop by soon. Let’s meet.”

The call ended.

“So even Ha sunbae’s coming back. Guess the city really is better.”

Cheon Young-jae looked at me.

“Sunbae? What’re you thinking?”

“I had a good idea.”

“It’s not some weird beatbox thing again, is it?”

I don’t know why he’s so wary of beatboxing.

Maybe it’s because he’s never heard mine.

But this isn’t about beatboxing now.

Ha Tae-hoon gave me inspiration.

The keyword: Americans. Which includes... the Chinese.

Because wherever the U.S. goes, the Chinese are sure to follow.

“Wanna go check on the Chinese?”

I thought it was a pretty solid angle.

Everyone sees them as a threat, but no one wants to look directly at them.

If I go and confirm their status, even the Jeju suits would be satisfied.

And personally, I thought I’d built a decent rapport with them.

*

It’s true that during the Nemesis battle, both the U.S. and China helped. But the Americans were the real game-changers.

They provided the absurdly luxurious gift of air support.

Naturally, they made a big show of it—setting up next door to my bunker. According to Ha Tae-hoon, they’d been hammering away around the clock.

Trucks loaded with materials were making at least two runs a week.

When I checked with the administration, they told me the Americans had requested not just construction supplies, but food, fuel, electronics, engine parts—everything.

And the Chinese?

Nobody gave a damn.

Right after the battle, Korea had sent them some ship parts, food, and medical supplies. That was it.

Barely a tenth of what the Americans got.

Can’t really blame anyone.

It’s the difference between an ally and a hostile state.

In any case, even the Jeju government, who didn’t particularly like me, seemed pleased that I offered to look into the Chinese faction.

“You’re really going to check on the Chinese remnants, General Park?”

“Yes. I’ve got some ties to them. We fought the Nemesis-type together. I think it’s worth verifying whether they’ll return to China as promised—or if they’re planning something else.”

That’s how these things go.

Everyone agrees it’s an issue. Everyone thinks it needs to be handled eventually. But no one wants to touch it.

The Chinese remnants? Exactly that kind of issue.

So when I said I’d take care of it, they were all too happy.

“Let us know if you need anything—equipment, personnel. We can even arrange a helicopter. The weather’s a little unstable, though.”

I wanted the helicopter, but they were right about the weather.

Helicopters are common, but they crash more often than people think.

And unlike planes, when a chopper drops—it’s over. Planes at least have some chance of gliding. Helicopters? Once the rotors stop, it’s straight down.

“We’ll take a vehicle.”

They had a spare military jeep.

I would've liked an armored vehicle, but the new Jeju jeeps were excellent.

Light armor, compact size, smooth handling.

They even ran well on synthetic fuel—unlike older models that sputtered after conversion.

Given the terrain, it was a solid choice. We agreed.

They offered to send soldiers too, but I refused.

This was a light recon trip.

Me and Cheon Young-jae would be enough.

I made the deal with the Jeju government and returned to Room 803—only to find Cheon’s face looking like a rotting corpse.

I knew something was up.

“Yo, sunbae.”

Woo Min-hee had arrived.

Now officially jobless, she wasn’t getting any pressure from Jeju like I was.

Probably because she was a ticking time bomb no one wanted to mess with.

But that same bomb had started showing up at our office far too often. Maybe the government’s twelve “gentle nudges” were also because of her coming and going.

“I heard you’re going to see the Chinese.”

“...”

Where did she hear that?

Don’t tell me she bugged my room?

Wouldn’t be out of character, honestly.

“I’m dusting off my journalism skills. You’ll take me with you, right?”

Her claw-like fingers wiggled in the air.

She didn’t scrape glass like a psycho anymore, but those absurdly sharpened nails always made me uneasy.

“...”

I knew.

Someone had to deal with Woo Min-hee.

I just never imagined it would be me—especially not after coming back to New Seoul.

“You’re coming too?”

“What? Not allowed?”

Fine.

It’s for the best.

If she’s nearby, odds of dying go down.

Cheon Young-jae gave me a pleading look like a man awaiting execution.

But there was nothing I could do.

“...Let’s go.”