Hiding a House in the Apocalypse-Chapter 98.3: Mausoleum (3)

There are places humans cannot explore, but robots can.

This idea has been around since the first meltdown at Chernobyl, a historically proven method.

During the Great East Japan Earthquake, robots were deployed to investigate the radiation-filled meltdown sites, replacing human workers in confirming the situation.

Modern drone technology may have come to a near halt, but it has advanced far beyond what was available back then.

Wars fought by humans—not just among themselves but against monsters—have driven relentless advancements in machines to replace human soldiers.

Unfortunately, I have no experience operating or handling drones.

When I was on the battlefield, the Chinese military we worked with handled the drones, and since I deliberately kept my distance from them, I never had the opportunity to learn anything.

But I do know someone who is good with drones.

Ha Tae-hoon from the 11th generation.

When Cheon Young-jae first brought him up, I sighed, thinking he’d be another burden entering my territory.

But now that drones are more crucial than ever, that thought has completely vanished.

"Alright, this is Michuhol District. Not much farther now."

Cheon Young-jae and I were in Incheon.

We came to pick up Ha Tae-hoon.

For transportation, we used an old, barely-functioning vehicle that Cheon Young-jae had brought along.

He claimed to have fixed the engine, but I had my doubts.

Still, using his car was better than risking my own, and that turned out to be a wise decision.

On the way here, we were shot at at least four times.

The gunfire wasn’t part of a coordinated ambush—more like stray rounds hoping for a lucky hit.

But this place was far too dangerous for me to drive my precious vehicle into.

Barely scraping by, we finally arrived at the location where Ha Tae-hoon was supposedly staying.

As someone who used to live in Incheon, Cheon Young-jae was familiar with the geography and the distribution of local factions.

"That over there is the 13th Shelter Zone, and that’s the 34th Shelter Zone. Both are groups that refused to evacuate to Seoul. Honestly, both are basically just criminal gangs at this point. The 13th is slightly better, but not by much."

Apparently, Ha Tae-hoon was relying on the 13th Shelter for protection.

The state of the shelters had deteriorated even further since my last visit to Incheon.

Or rather, this might be the natural evolution of abandoned settlements in the apocalypse.

Once government aid stops and people are left to survive entirely on their own, the line between crime and law inevitably disappears.

Survival becomes the only priority.

Everything else—morality, ethics, law—becomes meaningless.

Even from the entrance, the 13th Shelter felt like a crumbling, desperate community.

Barefoot, emaciated children clutching makeshift weapons stared at us with hollow eyes.

Men covered in tattoos and scars eyed us warily, gripping their guns.

Some women, gaunt and dressed in tattered clothes, openly flirted with us, seeking any opportunity to escape their circumstances.

"Don’t make eye contact," Cheon Young-jae whispered.

Didn’t need to tell me twice.

But we made sure to display our weapons clearly, keeping our guard up at all times.

"..."

This was surprising.

It had only been half a year since my last visit to Incheon, and back then, there was still some semblance of order left.

Now, even those remnants were gone.

This was a jungle made entirely of humans.

The sweltering heat, with summer fast approaching, only reinforced the jungle-like atmosphere.

"Hunter Cheon, is that you?"

A gaunt, middle-aged man appeared before us.

His head was completely shaved, and his sun-darkened skin made him look even more skeletal.

Though his frame was thin, his wiry muscles were like slabs of stone.

He and Cheon Young-jae clearly knew each other, exchanging a few words.

"Ha Tae-hoon?"

The man nodded slightly.

The rough-looking men around us guided us into an abandoned subway station.

Inside, there were several men armed with Judge Killers—a makeshift firearm popular among survivors.

Given how many battles they’d been through, firearms must have become a scarce commodity here.

Alongside Judge Killers, I also spotted some carrying crude, handmade shotguns.

Their eyes lingered greedily on the rifles we carried.

The gaunt man led us to a woman.

She was wearing a luxurious hanbok—far too extravagant for a place like this.

She looked to be in her mid-thirties, though the thick makeup she wore suggested she might be older.

Even with all that makeup, the deep scars across her face couldn’t be hidden.

"I heard you’re looking for Ha Tae-hoon."

Cheon Young-jae subtly gestured for me to stay silent.

This was his turf.

I followed his lead.

"We were in contact with Ha Tae-hoon until recently, but we suddenly lost communication. By the way, we’re all from the same school."

A flicker of interest crossed the woman’s eyes.

"Is that so?"

"Where is he?"

"He went out to hunt a mutation. Hasn’t come back. We paid him a hefty advance—three full magazines of ammo. But it’s been three days, and still no word."

"We’ll go find him."

The woman nodded and gestured to her men.

As we left the subway, I turned to Cheon Young-jae.

"She’s the boss here?"

He nodded.

"Kim Madam. Used to be a brothel owner. Ruthless and merciless."

"So people like her are the ones running things now?"

"Those who weren’t like her disappeared long ago—along with their shelters."

"Think Ha Tae-hoon is still alive?"

In war, just like soldiers, hunters also have a rule: if someone goes missing during a mission, they’re presumed dead.

And for hunters, that waiting period is even shorter than it is for soldiers.

If someone doesn’t return within a day, they’re as good as dead.

Three days?

In active duty, that would be enough time to send out a death notice.

"Ha Tae-hoon wouldn’t die to a mutation. It’s not even a named one—just a giant otter."

"An otter?"

"What’s so funny?"

"I just think it’s funny how even national treasures end up mutating."

"Otters were already apex predators in their ecosystems. They’re not to be underestimated."

"Yeah, I know."

It was a pain in the ass.

Aquatic creatures were always a bigger problem than land-based ones.

The mutation nutria that appeared near Nakdong River before the war was notoriously difficult to eradicate.

And this thing ranked higher in the ecosystem than a nutria?

Yeah, it was bound to be a hassle.

"So, do shelters hire hunters often?"

As we approached the mutant otter’s territory, I asked Cheon Young-jae.

"Shelters value us highly."

He was checking his firearm as he spoke.

"...But they don’t mess with monsters. Especially the ones that have been around a while. They don’t even look at them."

"So mostly mutations?"

"Who knew Korea had so many goddamn animals?"

A river came into view.

It had walking paths on both sides, now faded and cracked, hinting at its past as a place for city dwellers to exercise.

The water was still flowing toward the sea.

We weren’t here for the otter.

We came to find Ha Tae-hoon.

Both Cheon Young-jae and I believed he was still alive.

The air told us so.

This wasn’t a battlefield.

Sure, we could still get unlucky—get attacked first, get hit by a stray bullet.

But we’d cross that bridge when we got to it.

Click-click—

Cheon Young-jae clacked a small metal tool together, producing a rhythmic sound.

Click-click—

It wasn’t a coded signal—just a simple, repetitive pattern.

"This is strange," Cheon Young-jae muttered, scanning the surroundings.

Without turning, he asked me,

"See anything?"

"No people. No mutations. But I do see a monster’s territory across the river. And..."

I turned around.

Five zombies were shambling toward us.

One was moving faster than the rest.

"Senior Park, want to handle that?"

A normal person would’ve been too focused on the zombies.

But Cheon Young-jae didn’t even blink, his eyes locked on the reeds.

That was the mark of an old-school hunter.

I nodded and raised my axe.

CRACK!

There was no need to waste bullets.

Normally, I would’ve just used a handgun, but seeing how those in the subway shelter were armed with Judge Killers and homemade firearms, it made me realize just how precious bullets had become.

Better to conserve them.

Crack!

Besides, taking down zombies is a good way to warm up.

As I finished off the last one, I felt Cheon Young-jae’s gaze on me.

He whistled.

"Damn, Ki-young’s guys really move with style. I don’t know if I should call it flashy or just plain stylish."

"...Our instructor always cared about appearances."

"Speaking of which, there’s a rumor going around that a zombie that looks like Jang Ki-young has been spotted."

"Oh?"

"Jae-hyuk saw it near the docks."

"Jae-hyuk? You mean Bang Jae-hyuk? The one with the injured leg?"

"Yeah."

"Where is he now?"

"He ended up under Kim Daram. Lasted about a week before saying it was complete bullshit. Haven’t heard from him since."

A zombie that looks like Jang Ki-young, huh?

Interesting, but not something to focus on right now.

Click.

Both Cheon Young-jae and I instinctively raised our guns, aiming at the reeds.

Someone was hiding.

And to be honest, humans are what we fear the most.

A well-armed ambush is the biggest threat to us.

Click-click.

The tension in the air faded as a familiar sound echoed from the bushes.

A rhythmic clicking sound, identical to the one Cheon Young-jae had made earlier.

Soon, a man in combat fatigues and a jungle hat emerged from the underbrush.

Ha Tae-hoon.

He was two generations ahead of me.

His face was smeared with camouflage paint, and he looked leaner than before, but otherwise, he seemed in decent shape.

"Young-jae. And... isn’t this the Professor?"

Ha Tae-hoon raised a hand in greeting.

"Ha Tae-hoon."

I addressed him as senior, but his expression immediately soured as he shook his head.

"I’m not from your damn school, and I don’t consider myself part of it. Don’t call me senior."

"Then what should I call you?"

"No honorifics. Just ‘hey,’ ‘you,’ or ‘excuse me.’"

What kind of title is excuse me?

Whatever.

The important thing was that Ha Tae-hoon was alive.

And fully ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) functional.

I got straight to the point.

He listened without much expression, but I had a bad feeling as I spoke.

And sure enough—

"Nope. Not going."

He rejected my offer immediately.

"Come on, what’s the point of staying here? If Kim Byung-cheol gives up on Seoul, this place will turn into a goddamn safari."

Cheon Young-jae protested, but Ha Tae-hoon was a man of strong convictions.

With an exasperated sigh, Cheon Young-jae narrowed his eyes at him.

"This is about your ex, isn’t it?"

Ha Tae-hoon’s expression hardened.

"No."

"Then why else would you stay here?"

"Plenty of reasons."

He turned toward the reeds.

"I made a deal with Kim Madam."

"You don’t need to keep a promise to that piece of human trash."

"I know people hate her, but what can I say? I like her."

Cheon Young-jae looked utterly dumbfounded.

"What the hell do you see in her?"

"She’s got guts. She’s resourceful."

Without another word, Ha Tae-hoon started walking into the reeds.

Cheon Young-jae followed closely behind.

"Wait, are you being threatened or something?"

"No, nothing like that."

Following him deeper into the reeds, we reached his camp.

A tent was pitched there, and inside, a tablet was propped up, displaying multiple live camera feeds from different locations.

Every single feed was of the same river.

Under bridges, next to exercise equipment, on tiny islands in the water—all angles covered.

It was all real-time footage of the river flowing in front of us.

Ha Tae-hoon yawned as he watched the screens.

"I’ve come too far to give up now."

Cheon Young-jae glanced at me with a smirk.

"As you can see, our dear Ha Tae-hoon has a bit of an obsession."

I silently examined the equipment inside the tent.

He had invested a lot into this.

It gave me a clear picture of what kind of person he was.

Meticulously prepared.

Someone who invested heavily in his missions and ensured he got a return on that investment.

The kind of guy the Chinese wouldn’t have liked working with.

They say the Chinese are slow in decision-making, but in my experience, they were never patient when profit was on the line.

That probably explains why his promotions were slow.

When dealing with China, a lot of our evaluations were left to the Chinese handlers.

I never spoke a word of Chinese or tried to curry favor with them.

Didn’t matter.

Because in the face of overwhelming results, personal impressions meant nothing.

My eyes landed on one of the drones in the tent—a fish-shaped water drone.

I sat next to Ha Tae-hoon.

"I know you don’t like being called senior, but I’m calling you that anyway."

"Why?"

"Because everything else makes it sound like we’re friends, and I don’t like that."

Ha Tae-hoon gave me a long, silent stare.

Then he asked,

"...You need a favor, don’t you?"

Quick-witted, as expected from an older guy.

"Yeah. I need you to do something."

I didn’t deny it.

"What?"

"There’s a place filled with radiation. I want to borrow one of your drones to retrieve an item."

"People don’t realize this, but radiation affects drones too."

"I have plenty of supplies. If you need anything, name it."

Ha Tae-hoon’s eyes flickered as he mulled it over.

Then, out of nowhere, he spoke.

"I have a proposal for you too."

Right then, an alarm went off inside the tent.

It was a motion sensor—same type I use.

Ha Tae-hoon zoomed in on one of the tablet’s screens.

A massive, black creature was perched on a rock in the middle of the river, dripping water from its fur.

A mutant otter.

But that wasn’t what caught my attention.

In front of the rock, neatly stacked like an offering at a shrine, were over a dozen severed human heads.

Ha Tae-hoon watched the screen with blank eyes, then turned to me.

"Can you help me out?"

I nodded.

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Click.

Time for a light hunt.