Hiding a House in the Apocalypse-Chapter 57.2: Judgment (2)

Thud.

I took out a cartridge case, split its contents in half, and handed it to Defender.

“What’s this? You’re giving it to me?”

“I haven’t properly thanked you for everything.”

“I didn’t do it expecting a reward.”

“I’ve got plenty of bullets. And I do appreciate everything you’ve done.”

Despite his protests, I gave him half the bullets from the cartridge case as a token of gratitude.

It was the least I could do.

He had accompanied me to deal with dangerous people, brought his truck along, and even helped load the cargo. My late father used to say that no matter how close you are to someone, you must always show gratitude when asking for help. Otherwise, even the strongest bonds can crumble under neglect.

“You know a guy named Manseok from Gaepo-dong?”

Defender was sitting in the passenger seat, resting his rifle on the window frame while scanning the surroundings. He threw the question at me.

“Yeah, I know him.”

“What’s he like?”

“Just your run-of-the-mill scumbag. Deals with the military, smuggles surplus equipment onto the black market, runs a prostitution ring on the side, and will do anything for profit. Typical gang boss, but word is he’s well-educated and resourceful. Apparently, the military loves him.”

This 𝓬ontent is taken from fгeewebnovёl.co𝙢.

“Really?”

I noticed a gaunt man standing ahead, holding a sign. His face flashed briefly before my eyes.

“He’s using some odd advertising models, though.”

“Probably a competitor. He likes making examples of people.”

“I heard he used to be a judge.”

“A judge? Oh, yeah, a judge. Haven’t heard that one in a while.”

Tat-tat-tat!

Gunshots echoed from a short distance away.

Defender, however, didn’t stop the car.

When I looked at him, he spoke first, his expression unreadable.

“They’re not shooting at us. It’s far enough away. No need to react. If we get mistaken for being involved, we’ll just get shot at too.”

I had to admit, the man had nerves of steel.

If it were me, I’d have stopped the vehicle, carefully scouted the area where the shots came from, and ensured it was safe before moving again.

Maybe it’s just a difference in style.

I, Park Gyu, can be recklessly bold when necessary, but in situations like these, I lean toward caution, even to the point of being overly hesitant. There’s a reason for it. Dying when it’s unavoidable is one thing. But dying in a situation where you don’t have to? That would make it hard to rest in peace.

Later, there was another minor incident.

Several motorcycles roared past us on the opposite road, engines deafening.

Defender, seeing them, stopped the car and prepared for battle, but the group ignored us and sped southward. After that, things remained quiet.

Soon, an old highway rest area came into view, along with a fortress constructed out of stacked shipping containers.

I contacted them via radio before entering.

“This is the person who agreed to trade bullets for fuel yesterday.”

“Oh! Yesterday’s guest!”

Manseok’s voice came through with a sudden sigh.

“But we’ve got a bit of a problem.”

“What’s the issue?”

“There’s definitely an issue. Just come in first. Honk three times at the gate.”

I exchanged a glance with Defender before switching seats. He got out of the truck, and I took the wheel.

Dealing with gangsters often follows a predictable pattern: agree to a trade, then ambush the unsuspecting buyer.

If we were attacked, I’d likely be killed on the spot. But the vehicle was rigged with explosives. Defender would make sure to avenge me. That was the plan.

The ultimate insurance policy in the apocalypse.

With everything set, I adjusted the position of the ballistic shield mounted inside the door and prepared my handgun.

Clack.

One in the passenger seat, one behind the gear stick, and one inside the door. I felt the tension lubricating my body as I slowly drove toward the shop.

Beep-beep-beep.

Three honks.

The gangsters soon appeared.

“All right, all right, come on in.”

I drove the truck into the container-enclosed compound.

The place was a hodgepodge of items: fuel, melee weapons, food supplies, spare parts, and even prostitutes. Naked women and a stripped-down judge caught my eye in succession.

But something was different from before.

Bloodstains covered one of the containers, as if someone had poured a bucket of paint over it.

“Ah, you’re here! Mr. Park!”

Manseok greeted me with open arms.

He didn’t seem hostile. Behind him, several drums of fuel were neatly stacked.

Hiding my pistol, I stepped out of the vehicle.

“Did something happen?”

Manseok grimaced.

“Ugh, hell. Yeah, something happened.”

He turned his head toward the bloodstained container.

“A mutation attacked us last night. Killed one of my boys.”

“A mutation? What kind?”

“No one saw it. Not a damn soul. We had several guys here.”

A burly man with tattoos covering his neck shook his head vehemently, joining the conversation.

“You can’t see it. That thing. It doesn’t show itself. One second, my buddy was standing there, and the next, he was crumpled like he’d been hit by a speeding black car. It bit his neck clean off and left his headless, twisted body twitching before flying off. That’s it.”

He spoke with a blank expression, as if he couldn’t quite process what had happened. Fear wasn’t the dominant emotion—more like confusion.

I recalled something Defender had mentioned the other day.

“Could it have been an owl mutation? I’ve heard a lot of talk about those lately.”

Manseok and the gangsters around us all snapped their heads toward me.

“That’s it! That’s what it was!”

“Yeah, it must’ve been!”

“Wait, but didn’t it look like an owl? Didn’t it have eyebrows?”

“I thought you said you couldn’t see anything!”

“No, no, it had to be an owl! It had eyebrow-like markings!”

“That’s not an owl, dumbass. That’s a horned owl.”

Looking around, I noticed several electric wires and lamps strung up across the compound.

Even though an owl mutation could see perfectly well in the dark, these lights would make the area stand out from a distance.

It must’ve been the abundance of “food” here that drew its attention.

“Well, anyway, that’s what happened.”

Manseok gazed at the container where his subordinate had been killed, then gestured for me to follow him.

The trade began.

“Let’s see. 5.56mm NATO rounds. Good condition. This cartridge case... American military, huh? Hard to come by these days with all the bases cleaned out.”

After inspecting the bullets, he turned to the synthetic fuel drums. He opened one, dipped a long skewer into it, and pulled it out, showing the viscous fuel sticking to it.

“As you can see, top quality. See the serial number starting with 4? Made in Changwon.”

“What’s the best number?”

“Three. That’s the stuff made in Yeosu. But all the Yeosu fuel gets sent to Jeju Island. Even I can’t get my hands on it.”

Manseok demonstrated the fuel’s flammability, lighting it to show its clean burn and moderate smoke.

It did seem like high-quality stuff, just as people said about South Korea’s chemical engineering prowess.

“Shall we start loading?”

“Yes, let’s do it.”

“You heard him! Get the fuel loaded, boys!”

When I moved to help, Manseok stopped me.

“No need for that, boss. Let my guys handle it. They’re not exactly cost-effective in this backwater town, so they might as well earn their keep.”

He propped his feet up on a desk and lit a cigarette, exhaling white smoke like a sigh.

“······.”

With nothing better to do, I brought up the gaunt man holding the sign.

“That judge. Did he do something bad?”

“Bad stuff is our specialty.”

Manseok grinned, his expression as twisted as a Hahoetal mask.

“Do you feel sorry for him?”

His tone grew serious, and his eyes flickered with a sinister flame of hatred. I carefully chose my words.

“Honestly, yeah. He does look pitiful.”

Apparently, it was the right answer.

Manseok exhaled another puff of smoke and sighed.

“He spent half his life toying with people’s fates. Maybe being treated like a plaything before he dies is poetic justice.”

Suddenly, Manseok sprang up, barking orders at his men.

“Hey, not that one! The one next to it! Yeah, that one!”

Just as quickly, he turned back to me with a calm demeanor and continued our conversation.

“What do you think I did before the war?”

His smile carried a hint of menace.

“I wouldn’t know. I’m not much of a fortune-teller. Got an MBTI result you want to share?”

“I worked for a big company.”

Manseok tilted his head back, gazing at the sky.

“Not one of those parasitic firms sucking the domestic market dry. An exporter. I was in the purchasing department.”

I looked at him with slight surprise.

It was hard not to be.

A gangster boss, who could casually kill someone with a smile, used to be part of the industrial workforce.

“I had a daughter.”

The reason behind the complex hatred etched on the man’s face was finally revealed.

That hatred was rooted in family.

“She wasn’t like the stupid, selfish women who walked into trouble on their own. My daughter was truly kind and beautiful...”

“...”

Manseok’s hand, holding the cigarette, trembled slightly.

“Having a beautiful daughter isn’t always a blessing. Attracts all sorts of scum.”

“Scum?”

“Yes, a stalker.”

“...”

“He was a real piece of shit. Had a criminal record too. Thankfully, my daughter reported him when he was causing a ruckus outside her apartment. Obviously, someone like that should be locked up, right?”

I could guess what had happened.

Manseok glanced at the naked man tied nearby.

“But that bastard said he was a professional. Claimed he was in a respectable line of work, with no flight risk. Wrote some apology letters too. So, the police let him go. And then he raped and killed my daughter. Wrote those apology letters by day and, at night, bashed someone else’s daughter with a hammer until she was unconscious, raped her, and strangled her to death.”

“So that’s why you tied him up?”

“That’s not the only reason.”

Manseok let out a grim smile.

“Later, I went to confront him. Told him that because of his negligence, my daughter was dead. Asked him to admit his mistake and apologize to her, so she might find some peace in the afterlife. Do you know what that bastard did? He looked at me like I was a bug. Then he called court security—or whatever lackeys judges have—and told them to throw me out. Said I wasn’t even a citizen. Called me an outsider.”

“...”

“Not long after, I saw him presiding over a civil case. Some old lady had been scammed and lost everything. She didn’t know much and was pleading her case, asking for justice. And that bastard, sitting high and mighty, scolded her instead. Told her to learn the basics before coming to court. I saw it all in his eyes and heard it in his tone. That’s when I understood what kind of person he was, how he saw the world.”

Manseok stood up.

“He thinks he’s above everyone. Just a piece of shit who’s deluded into thinking he’s something greater.”

He picked up his gun and approached the naked man, who started trembling uncontrollably at the sight of the weapon.

“This worm...”

Manseok let out a derisive laugh, then turned to me.

“But even I know I’m not in the right. I know I’m a piece of shit too. That’s why I give him a chance every day.”

“A chance?”

Manseok suddenly did something incomprehensible.

He cocked the gun, turned off the safety, and thrust it into the hands of the naked man, forcing his fingers around it.

Then, pressing the barrel against his own forehead, he barked at the man.

“Here’s the guy who killed your family and ruined your life. Go on. Pass judgment.”

The naked man’s hands trembled violently, but he couldn’t pull the trigger.

Manseok snorted, yanked the gun out of his hands, and slapped him so hard the sound echoed. Then he calmly turned back to me, adjusting his coat as if nothing had happened.

“As you can see, innocent.”

I had nothing to say about the tangled grudges of pre-war days. It wasn’t my business to know.

But at least one question was answered.

That was enough.

My gaze shifted to another item in the shop.

“This battery—mind if I take a look?”

Manseok, acting as though nothing had happened, perked up with his usual exaggerated enthusiasm.

“Ah, this one. It’s Chinese, but the performance is solid. Don’t think of it like old Chinese products—it’s better than domestic ones. Back when I worked in the industry, Korean engineers sold off all their tech in China.”

“Do you take firearms as well? I’ve got a few brand-new American rifles.”

“Really? You raided a U.S. base, didn’t you? Gutsy. I’ll give you a generous deal.”

I figured I’d need to return to this shop again.

Whatever kind of man Manseok was, the goods he had could significantly extend the lifespan of my territory.

On top of that—

“What’s this?”

“Oh, this.”

Manseok picked up what looked like a combat gadget, a pouch bristling with blades.

“Hunter equipment.”

Even hunter gear.

Blades, a large-caliber rifle, a 128mm rocket pistol, and even a Harpoonizer—the mid-range weapon I used to favor. This place was practically a department store.

“How do you get all this?”

“I used to have connections with soldiers. Most of them have joined the Legion faction now, so that’s over.”

As someone skilled at dealing with people and manipulating their emotions, Manseok was quick to pick up on my interest.

He glanced at me and asked, “You wouldn’t happen to be a hunter, would you?”

“...I used to be, briefly.”

“Knew it. You had that aura about you the moment I saw you.”

While we were talking, the synthetic fuel had been loaded.

The truck bed was packed tightly with so much fuel that the one-ton vehicle wobbled under the weight.

This trade couldn’t have gone better.

Looking at the situation, it seemed like this was the end of it.

Since he’d figured out I was a hunter and we’d likely have more dealings in the future, I decided to offer him some professional advice.

“Be careful.”

“About what?”

“Mutations.”

“Oh, that.”

“Mutations that target a place once tend to come back. They’ll keep coming until they think it’s no longer worth the risk. Those creatures combine human intelligence with animal persistence. You said you were attacked yesterday, right?”

Manseok waved off my words as if they didn’t matter.

“I’ll handle it.”

Sure you will.

I just hope nothing happens. After all, I’ll probably need to deal with this guy again.

“How was it?” Defender asked as I returned.

I pointed at the fully loaded fuel in the back and gave him a thumbs-up.

And then, “As you can see.”

At least for now, I hoped no judgment would be passed on Manseok before our next trade.