Hiding a House in the Apocalypse-Chapter 85.1: King (1)

The boy’s name was Jeon Si-hoon.

He was part of a typical four-member family: a father, mother, and younger sister.

His father ran a small business that barely made ends meet, while his mother worked as a cashier at a supermarket to cover the children’s education costs.

Though he didn’t grow up in wealth, he was a kind, thoughtful child who cared deeply for his family.

Perhaps it was this goodness that served as a catalyst, for the gods blessed him with the abilities of a Level 10 Awakened—possibly even higher.

An Awakened over Level 10 is a rarity, a national strategic asset recognized as such even before the war.

That boy fell into the hands of the notorious gang leader, King.

“He was in Jeju, receiving counseling for mental health issues, before returning to Incheon. Normally, they wouldn’t put that much effort into someone, but he’s a Level 10 Awakened. They had to coax him into going back to the frontlines. And then King got to him. When the uprising in Incheon happened, he defected.”

Apparently, Jeon Si-hoon didn’t particularly like Woo Min-hee.

To be fair, not many people do. From the perspective of an 18-year-old boy, having someone as intimidating as her for a mentor would be challenging—something even I, as an outsider, can recognize.

The message Min-hee wanted me to deliver to the boy was shockingly simple:

Your father is dead.“He hated his dad. Absolutely despised him. He even left Jeju because he didn’t want to see him anymore.”

“What kind of father was he?”

Min-hee chuckled faintly, and over the radio, I could hear the metallic scrape of her prosthetic hook against some surface.

“Not the worst, honestly. A gentle man who didn’t make much money because his business wasn’t doing well. Never raised a hand, didn’t drink, and took the family on outings every Sunday.”

“What’s the problem then?”

I couldn’t understand. By all accounts, he sounded like a decent father.

“Better than that Dongtanmom character, right?”

“Senior, you swore you didn’t use the internet, but now that you’ve been caught, you’re happily referencing internet personalities?”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to—”

“I never thought you were like this. How can you lie so easily? Were you always this kind of person?”

“....”

“It’s the same with Si-hoon’s father. He lied.”

“What kind of lie could sever a father-son relationship like that?”

I was curious—what kind of lie could break their bond so completely?

Min-hee’s explanation made everything clear in an instant.

After the war broke out, Jeon Si-hoon’s family ended up in a refugee shelter.

Being the good son he was, Si-hoon worried about how to help his family during the grim days of living off dubious nutrition bars. Eventually, he applied to join the Guard, a new training school.

It was a risky decision—many kids died or disappeared during the selection process. Si-hoon even knew a friend who went missing after applying. But he went for it anyway.

As a child chosen by the gods, Si-hoon demonstrated his abilities flawlessly during the test.

The supervising officer, who had been wearing sunglasses and maintaining a poker face, was so impressed that he removed his sunglasses himself.

“That supervisor? Gong Gyeong-min. He was your classmate.”

Thanks to Si-hoon, his family was approved to relocate to Jeju.

On the day they were set to leave for Jeju, Si-hoon noticed a boy who looked eerily like a younger version of himself.

He didn’t have a brother, so he found it odd. Soon, he realized why.

“His father had been leading a double life. If you’re a Level 5 Awakened or higher, they let you take your family to Jeju. Si-hoon’s dad showed up that day with a child he’d never met before—a child from his secret second family.”

“That’s... shocking.”

“The real shock came next. I don’t usually get surprised, but Si-hoon’s father was... something else.”

As it turned out, it was Si-hoon’s mother who had been keeping the family afloat by working as a cashier.

Though his father contributed 1-2 million won a month, that wasn’t nearly enough to support a family of four with two kids in school.

Si-hoon’s father had a small business, but it didn’t do well—or so he claimed. He frequently borrowed money from Si-hoon’s mother and her side of the family.

It was all a lie.

For over a decade, he had pretended his business was struggling, but in reality, he had been making over 500 million won a year.

The worst part wasn’t just that he hid the money. It was that he didn’t spend a single won of it on his legal family.

Aside from the bare minimum for living expenses and the occasional toy or allowance for the kids—rarely on time—everything was handled by Si-hoon’s mother.

“Apparently, he didn’t get along with his wife. I’ve met her; she’s a strict, strong-willed woman. Si-hoon’s dad seemed weak—probably felt crushed by her. But, senior, no matter how bad things get, does it make sense to lie for over a decade and keep up a sham marriage?”

To Si-hoon’s father, his “real” family was his mistress and their child.

He had built a bunker for them, costing over a billion won, while giving nothing to his legal family.

“How much resentment do you have to hold against your wife to go that far?”

The boy, burdened with such a despicable father, left Jeju and ended up in King’s city.

“Now that the father he hated so much is dead, he’ll come back if we just tell him that. Si-hoon never liked me, but apparently, he respected Senior Kang a lot.”

“I’m not sure if just hearing that will make him return. And will King let him go that easily?”

“That doesn’t matter. Just deliver the message. If King stops him, then we deal with it. What’s important is Si-hoon’s decision.”

“Being a Level 10 Awakened really does come with special treatment, huh?”

“Maybe you could reach that level, senior.”

Her sudden comment lightly rattled me—something that rarely happens.

“What?”

I heard the faint clinking sound of her hook tapping against the floor over the radio.

“I used to think there was no chance, but lately, you’ve been acting almost human.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Are there conditions?”

“Normalcy.”

“Normalcy?”

“It’s just a hunch. Don’t take it too seriously. Anyway, the sirens are going off again. Good luck, senior.”

As always, Min-hee abruptly ended the transmission.

“....”

Normalcy.

Is that something I lack?

I don’t know.

For now, I have a daunting task ahead.

King...

This year is shaping up to be another turbulent one.

*

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In vast, authoritarian nations like Russia or China, there exist so-called closed cities—types of urban settlements unfamiliar to most South Koreans.

A closed city is, as the name implies, a city with restricted access, only allowing entry to those with certified credentials or specific permits.

Often, these cities house massive military facilities, research centers, or other state-critical infrastructures.

The Chinese city of Shangyang was one such closed city. Officially, it was a research hub for the aerospace industry. In reality, it was a luxurious retreat for the upper echelons of the Communist Party.

I never had the chance to experience Shangyang’s opulence.

By the time I entered, the term “closed city” was a hollow title. The gates that once sealed off the city were smashed, the guards and public security officers long gone.

The city was in ruins. All utilities—water, electricity, communications—were completely shut down.

Surprisingly, people still lived in that desolation.

People abandoned by their nation, clinging to life because they couldn’t yet find a way to die.

I never imagined South Korea would end up with its own version of such a city, let alone that I’d one day set foot in it. Back when I was building my bunker, this possibility never crossed my mind.

From Crunch_Roll: What? You’re coming here?

From Crunch_Roll: Got some guts, huh, Skelton? You even know who I am? Lol.

That the gang leader would flip his attitude was something I half-expected.

What remained constant was the fact that this gang leader knew who I was.

From SKELTON: (Skelton terror) ㄷㄷ...

I played along, placating him just enough to change his tone.

From Crunch_Roll: Fine, if you’re so set on coming, then come. Tie a blue flag to your vehicle—or just some scrap cloth if you don’t have one—and hover around the city outskirts. The thugs with crossbows will come running. Just tell them you’re my guest.

From Crunch_Roll: If you make it here, I’ll even acknowledge you. Lol.

Traveling alone into territory teeming with raiders is a death wish.

The difference between a gang and an army lies in how well the subordinates follow orders.

King claimed a blue flag would suffice, but who knows? Being “his guest” doesn’t mean much when a bullet or a torch can end things swiftly.

The safest option would be to avoid detection entirely while getting close to King’s city. Even the most unruly raiders wouldn’t dare break the rules in a territory where their boss reigns supreme.

It’s a gamble, but I chose to take it.

After all, in Paju, my junior was fighting for their life against monsters.

My goal is to live long, yes, but I don’t want to drag myself through life pathetically or cowardly.

If my junior is enduring hell, I should at least show some effort in return.

I gathered a few supplies—some food, fuel, firearms, ammunition, and two axes—and set off for Sejong.

For transportation, I chose a motorcycle.

I filled the tank with synthetic fuel and left my territory at dawn.

The weather was still chilly, with patches of melted snow scattered among areas still blanketed in white.

One concern lingered: I had no data about the area I was heading to.

The war had rendered this region a blank slate. All I had were pre-war road maps.

Friends from the forums in Daejeon had warned me about the area north of the city. It had been hit so heavily by missiles and nuclear strikes that no one dared approach it.

In some places, the roads weren’t just damaged—they had vanished entirely.

With factories halted and farmlands abandoned, the Geum River’s swollen waters now acted as a barrier between Daejeon and Sejong City.

That was the extent of the reliable information I had about Sejong.

As for the rumors swirling about the city, I decided to ignore them.

Stories about enslaved residents forced into grueling labor, people being killed for fun, and young women being abducted for unspeakable acts were far too common in this collapsing world to hold much weight.

Despite being in Gyeonggi Province, my territory was closer to Cheonan, making Sejong City much nearer than Seoul.

In theory, the trip was half as long.

In reality, it felt twice as far.

The unfamiliar terrain, the lack of information, and the constant tension of having to stay on guard wore on me.

Honestly, traveling during the brutal winters of -30 to -40°C had been easier than this.

And the zombies—how are there so many of them?

Despite the harsh winter, they hadn’t frozen to death. Black dots on the road inevitably turned out to be zombies.

The mutants were just as numerous. I saw a boar the size of a truck on the road.

It swatted a staggering zombie aside and devoured it, bones and all, before turning its head in my direction.

“....”

It reminded me of Gold.

That mutt.

I’d cursed him for not giving me enough gifts, but now I realized he’d been protecting me from creatures like this.

If I had to kill it, I could—but the resources it would take were obvious.

One rifle magazine wouldn’t cut it. I’d need heavy weaponry.

After battling zombies, mutants, melted snow, mud, and some nameless, grotesque budding plants underfoot, I finally reached the outskirts of Sejong City at dusk.

A journey that should have taken an hour pre-war had taken me half a day.

In the distance, the Geum River meandered through the landscape. Abandoned farmlands sprawled on either side, while a plume of smoke rose from a gray city—King’s city, Sejong.

Interestingly, there was another city nearby.

Not Daejeon, but an unfinished administrative hub. It seemed the government had planned to establish a new administrative district after the war to counteract the dimensional rifts.

Now, that half-built city was cloaked in shades of gray.

I nodded.

It was clear why the government hadn’t tried to reclaim Sejong from a gang leader like King.

Right next to it lay monster territory.

Contrary to my concerns, I didn’t see raiders or gang members zipping around on motorcycles or trucks.

As twilight descended and the city lights flickered on, the rising smoke mixed with the fading red sky, creating an oddly poetic, pastoral beauty.

A sliver of unease crept in, tightening my nerves, but I kept my focus on where I needed to go and slowly moved the motorcycle forward.

The blue flag I’d made fluttered in the wind.

There were no guards or sentries at the city’s entrance.

Only a middle-aged man missing an eye leaned against a wall, arms crossed, glaring at me under a dim streetlamp.

He glanced at me.

“Never seen you before,” he said, his voice more like the wheeze of a broken accordion than human speech.

That was all he said.

The man, presumably a gatekeeper, didn’t ask for my name, affiliation, or purpose.

I asked him, “This is Sejong, right?”

I already knew the answer, but I wanted a glimpse into his thoughts.

He stared at me silently, offering no response.

Passing him, I entered the city.

I didn’t need to ask any further.

Corpses greeted me.

Bodies hung from the crumbling walls of the government complex, strung up like grim Christmas ornaments.

As I stared at the gruesome sight, men armed with crossbows—thugs once known as judge-killers—approached me.

One of them stopped in front of me.

“How’d you get here?”

I glanced at the sharp bolts they carried before replying.

“I was invited.”

“By who?”

“King.”

The man’s eyes flicked toward my blue flag.

He gestured for me to follow.

Beyond him stretched a grim and bizarrely euphoric street.

On one side, garish neon lights blared amidst deafening music.

On the other, darkness reigned—oppressive, suffocating, riddled with despair and poverty.

Haggard, abused people stared at the glowing neon lights across the street with empty, glistening eyes.

Suddenly, the man in front of me turned around.

“Were you in Paju?”

I looked at him.

I didn’t recognize his face.

But it seemed he recognized mine.

“You’re a hunter, aren’t you?”