Hiding a House in the Apocalypse-Chapter 78.1: Photos (1)

As the weather warmed, it wasn’t just the ice that began to melt.

The last vestiges of patience were wearing thin.

According to Reporter Yangban, there had been an armed attack on government facilities around Christmas. While protests and violent incidents against government facilities were nothing new, the sophistication and quality of equipment in this attack set it apart from anything seen before.

More than ten mortars were used to bombard the government district, surrounded by barbed wire and concrete walls. Rocket-propelled grenades targeted warehouses and guard posts in sporadic skirmishes.

While the exact number of casualties remained unknown, it was certain that the five-minute mortar barrage had left dozens dead.

Rumor had it that a select few were hosting an exclusive Christmas party inside the walls at the time.

People speculated that the attack stemmed from the increasing factionalism among evacuation shelters.

After Yang Sang-gil’s fall from power, citizens had demanded a replacement leader, but the Incheon government stalled with vague responses, dragging things out.

Having been deceived several times before, the people finally lost their patience. Factions began forming within the shelters.

In the past, the government would have suppressed this, but now, their power had diminished. They could only stand by and watch.

The prevailing theory on PaleNet was that some of these newly factionalized shelters, supplied with weapons by the Legion faction, were behind the attack.

Incheon’s streets were now under heavy surveillance, with tanks, helicopters, and armored vehicles stationed at every major intersection. But I wondered—when the next cold wave hit, would they maintain the same vigilance?

The online atmosphere wasn’t much better.

Ironically, leading the charge in the attack was a name known worldwide: DongtanMom—Baek Seung-hyun.

DongtanMom: There were hundreds of empty containers on the deck. Each one housed four families, with three people per family. And they weren’t single-story either.

They’d stacked the containers four stories high and crammed people in. Those who’ve seen the evacuation fleet know. It wasn’t a refugee transport—it was a can of sardines.

Sure, it wasn’t as bad as an African slave ship, but it was close. The stench of filth and urine was everywhere.

DongtanMom: Then suddenly, the ship stopped. It was around 2 a.m., pitch dark. The captain announced over the intercom that some cabins were leaking water.

Our cabin wasn’t leaking, so we didn’t think much of it. Soon, people from the "leaking" cabins came up to the deck and started boarding another ship. But here’s the thing—those people didn’t look wet.

Even from a distance, in the dark, you could tell. If someone was wet, the ground would be wet too, and the water would glisten under the faint starlight. But it didn’t.

DongtanMom began recounting their story of being sent to China.

The tone was calm, almost as if they were merely stating facts. But the intent was obvious: to condemn the government for abandoning hundreds of thousands of people in China.

Though their story hadn’t yet reached the part where they actually arrived in China, the tension was steadily building.

This exposé was bound to fan the flames of anger already consuming Incheon.

Classic Baek Seung-hyun—keeping silent until the moment it would serve him best.

DongtanMom: The atmosphere felt off. People were saying that those being sent over were "selected performers," chosen through some shady process.

But still, I believed in the Republic of Korea. That’s it for today. Nom nom...

Their post garnered hundreds of comments—a typical sight on PaleNet.

I didn’t even need to read them to know what they’d say.

Rage, hatred, and a deafening chorus of outrage, all teetering on the edge of explosion.

Honestly, this should have happened last year.

When the Pioneer Corps abandoned people and countless froze to death, this kind of backlash was long overdue.

Maybe it was the uniquely Korean traits of patience and tolerance that bought the government an extra year, but now even that patience had run dry.

By this time next year, I doubted there’d even be an Incheon government left.

While South Korea hurtled toward its end, Viva! Apocalypse! was gearing up for a grand year-end celebration.

Melon_Mask: After consulting with several users, we realized that live broadcasts require more resources and manpower than expected.

Sure, we all love DongtanMom’s videos, but let’s be real—those are only possible because it’s DongtanMom. Ninety-two percent of our users are reclusive shut-ins. Where are we supposed to find people?

We also lack proper equipment and editing skills. A poorly done live stream is worse than nothing.

So, this year’s final live event will be replaced with a photo exhibition.

A photo exhibition to close out the year—it was an interesting idea.

Unlike live streams, photos had a much lower entry barrier.

Someone like Baek Seung-hyun might dominate with their professional video content and elaborate setups, but photos? All you needed was a camera and a subject.

However, a lower entry barrier also meant more competition.

Anyone could participate. Even older users who rarely moved around could try their hand at photography.

Some of those veterans were masters of the craft.

"..."

Of course, this global-scale festival couldn’t possibly exclude me, Skelton.

At least online, I was a very active man.

Traditionally, the most popular photo subjects were historical buildings, children, animals, and nature.

Reflecting the times could also add value to a photo.

Thinking back to pre-war PaleNet, it was predictable.

For example, the old m9 was just another goofy guy at a meat restaurant, stealing bites instead of grilling.

But post-apocalypse m9? Living alone in a crumbling apartment complex, he was now seen as an extraordinary figure.

I suspected the key theme of this photo exhibition would be the times.

This shared doom—our collective destiny—seemed likely to be the decisive factor.

I recalled a photo I’d taken a few years ago that had garnered some attention.

It captured the moment when a colossal species dissolved into thousands of glowing particles against the night sky, with Rebecca and Sue’s silhouettes holding hands in the foreground.

The photo had everything: family, children, a beautiful background, and a poignant reflection of the era.

Not bad, younger me.

But was it enough?

The quality was high enough to win, but winning like this felt... uninspired.

I could do better now.

Something far greater—an image that could touch the hearts of every Viva! Apocalypse! user.

The challenge was finding the right subject.

Unless another colossal species conveniently appeared, I’d need something else to surpass my past self.

As I mulled over this, my comm device buzzed.

It was Defender.

I sighed lightly before answering.

So they were finally leaving.

This content is taken from freёnovelkiss.com.

While bittersweet, it was inevitable.

Determined to see them off with a smile, I answered the call.

"Yeah, what’s up?"

"Skelton."

It was Dajeong on the other end.

Cautiously, I asked, "Is it time?"

"No, not yet. We’ve got some time."

"Really?"

"Skelton, do you have a moment?"

"A moment?"

"Yeah. Want to go to Seoul with us?"

"Seoul?"

The city where I was born and raised, now a desolate wasteland, flashed through my mind.

"What for?"

"To take pictures."

*

Seoul.

Once the bustling capital, now an empty ruin, abandoned by everyone.

There’s a certain romanticism to the idea of it.

Dajeong’s plan was to use the deserted streets of the city as a stage to take a series of photos—for Melon_Mask’s Photo! Apocalypse! contest.

And, as she put it, “We could take some of our own photos too.”

“Memories fade, but photos last forever. Besides, when else would we have the chance to do something like this together?”

Now that she mentioned it, I’d never taken a photo with these friends. Not once.

“Since we’ve already set a moving date, this might be our last chance. A little day trip won’t hurt, right?”

A day trip to Seoul.

Not a bad idea, actually.

And I had just the thing for it.

VROOOOOM—

Rebecca’s Humvee.

The one she and her daughter had given me.

It guzzled gas like a beast, but I had enough fuel to spare.

“Wow, what’s this?!”

The Defender siblings reacted exactly as I’d hoped.

“This is insane.”

“Skelton, you’re looking extra cool today.”

“...It’s just the kind of ride Su-seobang would drive.”

As expected, a good car turns heads.

“Where did you get this thing?”

“Remember I mentioned the American soldiers living nearby?”

“They just gave you this? They’re pretty generous...”

While Dajeong gawked at the vehicle, Defender inspected it with a serious expression, tapping the hood thoughtfully.

“Not bad. The engine’s a bit noisy, but it’s solid.”

I turned to them with a curious question.

“By the way, who put the heart on my Christmas tree?”

I’d been dying to know who had pulled that cutesy stunt.

I assumed it was Dajeong, but her glance toward Defender suggested otherwise.

“...Was it you?”

“Sorry.”

Defender answered with his usual deadpan expression, like the cold-blooded killer he was.

“Oh.”

But there was one more suspect—someone lurking behind the house.

Even without looking, I knew.

It was Heo Jong-chul, the oddball who’d been freeloading with Defender’s group.

Sensing my gaze, Defender spoke up apologetically.

“Skelton, sorry for not mentioning this earlier, but I figured we’d need a photographer. We really want a picture of the three of us together, and having someone to take it makes sense.

"Plus, you know Jong-chul. He’s an Awakened, so he’s great at spotting ambushes. Sure, he’s done some questionable stuff before, but at his core, he’s a good guy. Deep down.”

Defender’s sudden, rapid explanation sounded like he was pitching the "benefits of Heo Jong-chul" like an old restaurant flyer advertising the health perks of duck meat.

Finding his unusual enthusiasm amusing, I responded casually.

“It’s fine if he comes along.”

I didn’t hold any particular grudge against Heo Jong-chul.

Sure, he was odd, but in the end, it wasn’t his fault—or Defender’s—that their generation, the 18th cohort, turned out this way. It was the world’s doing.

And honestly, he had a point: killing everyone in Incheon would theoretically make the remaining people safer.

At least Jong-chul seemed remorseful now.

Whether he repented or not, this would likely be our last meeting. If we ever crossed paths as enemies, well, what difference would one more foe make?

Besides, I kind of liked the idea of having a photo of me, Defender, and his sister together.

When I gave my approval, Jong-chul bowed at a sharp 90 degrees, apologizing with fervor.

“Sir, I’m so sorry for not recognizing you before!”

“It’s fine. Relax.”

“No, really, you’re the famous prof—”

Cutting him off with a smirk, I said, “In a dying world like this, does any of that even matter?”

And with that, our journey began.

The Humvee, painted white to blend with the snow, roared across the frozen ground, heading toward the ruined capital.

Defender had his own truck, but we opted for the Humvee since the weather had warmed up.

Interestingly, the Humvee was more sensitive to low temperatures than my motorcycle.

Plus, warmer weather meant more people would be out and about—raiders and murderers included.

The Humvee offered a layer of protection against stray bullets, eliminating one of the most frustrating variables.

As the scenery sped past, I asked Defender, “So, when are you heading to the Legion faction?”

“January 2nd.”

“The day after tomorrow, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Got everything packed?”

“Just need to show up.”

Defender was riding shotgun, sitting comfortably but keeping his sharp eyes constantly scanning for potential danger.

In the backseat, Jong-chul and Dajeong sat as far apart as possible, their strained relationship apparent.

Jong-chul occasionally glanced at her, but there didn’t seem to be any overt hostility—if anything, he might even like her.

“How about some music? Let’s set the mood for our trip,” Dajeong suggested from the back.

Defender and I ignored her.

Even if this was a trip, blasting cheerful music while driving was crossing a line.

Seoul wasn’t safe.

Though it was devoid of people, there were mutants roaming around.

The ones I’d named Meatballs and Caterpillars.

And let’s not forget the city’s infamous collection of grotesque mutations.

I wished they’d all freeze to death, but the world rarely granted such favors.

Caution was never a bad thing in a world like this.

Unlike games, in reality, you only get one life.

Half excited and half wary, we reached Seoul.

The frozen lake reflected the ruins of towering skyscrapers, some snapped in half, and the abandoned amusement park loomed with a haunting beauty.

Click.

I grabbed my firearm and stepped out of the Humvee.

“No people in sight. No signs of mutants either,” Jong-chul reported, scanning the area with a cautious gaze.

After confirming the safety of our surroundings, Dajeong climbed out of the vehicle.

“Wow, this place is wrecked.”

She looked around nostalgically.

“This neighborhood was so expensive. I barely ever came here.”

“You want to take pictures here?”

The atmosphere wasn’t bad.

The half-collapsed skyscraper in the background had a strikingly powerful image.

“This spot could work.”

Dajeong, our self-appointed director for the day, surveyed the area with a critical eye.

Her face lit up suddenly as she had an idea.

“How about the subway?”