Chapter 4: Good News
Even the apocalypse has stages.
Opinions differ from person to person, but the main indicator distinguishing these stages is the state of the nation.
The serious stages all have the collapse of the state as a condition.
Since a Chinese warlord launched a suicidal war, nuclear missiles fell on major South Korean cities, and the collapse of the Republic of Korea began.
Many people died and numerous cities were reduced to ruins, but even at that point, the South Korean system was still being maintained.
There was no need to go outside.
Just by tuning into shortwave radio or TV signals, emergency broadcasts were informing us of the current situation.
My main TV broke because of the EMP, but I installed the spare one I had prepared for emergencies and monitored the situation.
Millions had died and about half of the city’s functions had stopped, but Seoul and the surrounding areas were rapidly regaining stability and managing the situation thanks to military units, public servants, and volunteers.
I left the bunker only after communications were restored and order was established in the area where I had settled.
I headed toward Seoul dragging an old cargo bicycle I had prepared for this day.
If this were the US, where every Tom, Dick, and Harry is armed with guns, it would be extremely dangerous behavior, but this is Korea.
The risk of snipers or shootings is incomparable to the US.
Even if this were the US, I would have made the same choice.
Because if you’re scared stiff from the start, you won’t get what you need.
Of course, even if this is Korea, one must observe basic etiquette.
Cheap brands, worn-out and shabby fashion, meager belongings. This is the dress code of the apocalypse.
Aside from that, I carried three days’ worth of food and water, some dollars, cigarettes for barter, and for self-defense, I packed one American-made pistol and a sharp, well-honed hand axe.
There were no major threats on the way to Seoul, but the landscape and atmosphere of ruin unfolding before my eyes gave me complex and conflicting emotions: relief and a sense of reward, mixed with a melancholy that soaked up from beneath my feet.
Leaving my well-appointed hideout to go to Seoul was for a good reason.
“I’m looking for Hunter Lee Sang-hun.”
I picked a soldier who looked relatively kind among those moving busily and asked.
“Hunter Lee Sang-hun?”
“Yes. The one who is currently the head of disaster relief.”
“Can’t you see we’re busy?”
He was prickly unlike his appearance suggested, but when I held out a few packs of cigarettes, he became good-natured like a lie.
“Ah~ You were looking for Director Lee Sang-hun. It’s such a common name.”
“Oh. He got promoted. I knew he was different from the start.”
“Please wait a moment. I’ll try to contact him. Who shall I say is asking?”
“Tell him it’s Bak Gyu who went to school with him. If he doesn’t remember well, just say it’s the friend who graduated at the top of the class among his peers, and he’ll understand immediately.”
A moment later, the soldier returned.
“Director Lee Sang-hun says he’s in a meeting right now, so it’s difficult to contact him.”
“Is that so?”
“What is it about? If there’s anything I can help with, I will.”
I didn’t really come to meet Lee Sang-hun.
I already knew from the moment I left the bunker that the guy wouldn’t meet me.
Actually, I didn’t want to meet him either.
The reason I used Lee Sang-hun’s name lies elsewhere.
“I would like to receive a military walkie-talkie and a personal identification number.”
Cell phones still work in some areas, but there are many areas where they don’t.
Especially the further you get from the city, the more useless cell phones become.
In this situation, the most useful means of communication is the high-performance shortwave radio, the K-Walkie Talkie.
It’s heavier and trickier to use than a cell phone, but it’s highly reliable, and if you just tune to the public frequency, you can communicate with everyone in the vicinity without needing to know their numbers.
That alone makes it a sufficiently convenient item, but military walkie-talkies are a grade above civilian ones and can access encrypted military frequencies.
That means I can get information directly from the military, which is the most reliable armed group and intelligence source at this point.
“Since you seem to know Director Lee Sang-hun, I can give you the walkie-talkie for free, but I don’t think I can assign you a personal identification number. We’re only assigning those to military/police personnel or those in charge of monster disposal.”
As expected.
I never thought I’d get a personal identification number from the start.
The soldier handed me a brand-new item, still in its packaging.
I carefully checked for defects on the spot and tested it.
The result was perfect; it was a good unit.
The moment 90% of my purpose for coming to Seoul was achieved.
I spent the remaining time riding my bicycle around downtown Seoul.
According to sources, a total of five nuclear missiles were fired at Seoul, but four were intercepted in the air, and one fell within the Four Great Gates.
Casualties are still being counted, but they say it’s easily over a million.
The roads became parking lots with vehicles unable to move either way, and parts of the city were in ruins.
In particular, an entry ban was issued for the area inside the Four Great Gates, which took a direct hit from the nuke.
People who lost their homes wandered everywhere, and hospitals were overflowing with radiation victims and the injured lying on the streets unable to find beds.
The security situation didn’t look too bad.
Whether the security forces are powerful or the citizens just don’t have the energy to commit crimes right now remains to be seen.
Perhaps the EMP effect was weaker than expected; while a significant number of vehicles and base stations had stopped, there were quite a few base stations and cell phones still working fine, and power was being restored, albeit limitedly, focusing on high-priority areas.
What people fear is the next airstrike.
According to the government announcement, our side also launched a nuclear retaliation and devastated the origin of the provocation, but hardly anyone believed that at face value.
Sure enough, while I was wandering around Seoul, an air raid siren went off, and I took shelter in a subway station.
I saw many refugees inside the subway.
Since the neighborhood happened to be formed around large apartment complexes, the subway was crowded to the point of saturation.
“?”
Inside the subway, I doubted my eyes for a moment.
< Samjeon ‘Best Louis Vill Harrington’ Residents Zone >
< Label ‘Chief Head Stone’ Residents Zone >
< Brandia ‘Proud Noble Hill’ Residents Zone >
< Rotu ‘Rupert Reich Palace’ Residents Zone >
…
…
Parts of the subway were compartmentalized by apartment complex.
Middle-aged men and women, not wearing armbands but wearing invisible ones, were pacing nervously, thoroughly marking their zones.
A man wearing a red hat who looked over 60 suddenly appeared in front of me and asked bluntly.
“Mister. Where are you from?”
“I’m still in my 20s. Though I’m 29 in international age.”
“No, I mean where are you from? Are you from this neighborhood?”
“Please refrain from speaking informally. You’re not my superior, are you?”
“Are you from this neighborhood?”
“No.”
“Non-residents, go over there.”
At the end, he waved his hand dismissively without even looking at me.
The non-resident zone was in the most secluded corner of the subway station.
< Rentals and Others >
A zone where even light didn’t reach properly.
A few people were pacing with gloomy faces, and faint radio sounds could be heard from here and there.
“…This air raid is a cruise missile attack, not a nuclear one. The ROK interception units will block it with the spirit of Admiral Yi Sun-sin, but citizens should prepare for any unforeseen events…”
Soon, the ground shook gently, and the sound of explosions from afar echoed eerily within the subway station, likely traveling through the walls.
Thump- Thump-
Experiencing an air raid inside an unfamiliar shelter with strangers whose names you don’t even know isn’t exactly a pleasant experience.
Above all, there is absolutely no privacy.
Rustle-
Feeling hungry, I took out a chocolate bar and started peeling the wrapper, and sparkling eyes watched my chocolate bar as if a swarm of rats had appeared.
That alone was burdensome, but a young boy I didn’t know approached me and stared up at me blankly.
Grrrwll-
Had he not eaten properly?
Judging by his appearance, he had enough flesh to last a month without food.
A person who appeared to be the child’s parent approached belatedly and took the child away.
“Excuse me.”
I held out a new chocolate bar and asked a few questions.
“Rations? They gave us a tiny amount. But even that…”
The child’s parent glared with resentful eyes at the people who had seized the entrance area.
Instead of them, who were sparing with words, I asked the question.
“Did the complex residents monopolize it?”
The child’s parent nodded silently.
“I see.”
It’s a fresh discovery.
It’s natural for people to band together and form interest groups in times of crisis, but Koreans had their own unique focal point.
If the Joseon Dynasty had clan villages, modern times have apartment complex villages.
The more households and the stronger the influence of the complex, the stronger the power of the “complex village.”
In fact, that power balance was laid bare within this narrow underground shelter.
Strong complexes take the good spots and monopolize supplies, while those who aren’t occupy lousy zones and get tiny scraps of supplies.
Should I call it an extremely Korean scene?
Soon, the all-clear siren rang out from everywhere.
- Air raid all clear! Air raid all clear! Citizens, please go outside and return to your livelihoods.
After saying goodbye to the family I had been with for a short time, I left the subway.
As I tried to go outside the subway, the signs distinguishing the complexes and the residents of those complexes caught my eye again.
“…”
Well, they probably won’t harm me.
They say we’re a people who can tolerate theft but not bicycle theft; as I walked past dragging my bike, I felt countless insidious gazes scanning me and the bike, but it didn’t lead to any actual threats.
After all, life is still livable, and the country is still intact.
I unintentionally overheard their conversation.
“They say this bombing hit the new city center. My goodness, those Chinese bastards even put chemical weapons in the missiles, so the damage is immense.”
Up to this point, it’s a perfectly normal conversation.
However, a blunt remark from one woman made me stop in my tracks.
“That’s good news (a bullish factor).”
For a moment, I doubted my ears.
“?”
No, “good news” in this situation?
“I said it’s good news. There aren’t many decent complex villages left in Seoul, so if everyone except us goes to ruin, wouldn’t our neighborhood eventually become the most premium residential area?”
If one or two guys said this, I would have let it slide.
But human behavior always surpasses imagination.
“Now that I hear it, it is tremendous good news.”
“Our apartment will be reborn as the top luxury complex in Seoul.”
“My friend was always bragging about her neighborhood, serves her right.”
“I want the war to end quickly so I can see the ranking of locations get sorted out.”
“I guess opportunity really does come only when there’s a crisis.”
Since the war started, I rarely tried to look at other people’s faces.
Because they are people who will all die and disappear soon anyway.
But this time, I couldn’t hold back and looked at their faces.
They were ordinary faces you could see anywhere.
That is why my anger deepened even more.
“Hey, aren’t you being too harsh with your words?”
Since I wouldn’t see their faces again, I asked once.
The answer was cold glares.
A middle-aged woman smirked, exchanged glances with the residents, and threw out a remark.
“Go on your way.”
***
There is no way to know the fate of that entire complex village I witnessed that day.
I’m not idle enough to pay attention to humans who chatter about the world ending being “good news.”
But I know the end of the residents of the ‘Rupert Reich Palace’ complex, one of those factions, very well.
I remember it as a year and a half after my first visit to Seoul.
A group of refugees passed near my hideout.
-Zzzzt! Zzt! This is… [District Name]! Rupert Reich Palace Residents’ Association! If anyone is listening, please respond! Repeat! This is…
They constantly tried to converse with the surroundings on the public frequency.
Instead of responding, I just listened.
I have enough food and water to feed hundreds of people, but I have nothing to give to those bastards.
Not a single grain of rice, nor even a dead skin cell from my body.
Anyway, the fact that they came to my territory probably isn’t “good news” for them at least.
-Zzzzt! Aaaaargh! It’s a monster! This is the Rupert Reich Palace Residents’ Association! We are being attacked by monsters! I repeat! This is the Rupert Shibal (Fucking) Palace Residents’ Association!
About a month ago, a few man-killing monsters appeared near my base.
It wasn’t monsters that attacked them.
Beings contaminated and mutated by the plague brought by monsters.
It is a “Mutation.”
A few stray cats cared for by a nearby “cat mom” were infected with the mutation factor, grew to the size of tigers, and are now trying to exterminate humans with the same skill they used to exterminate mandarin ducks and natural monuments.
Their combat power might be weaker than the mutated killer dog pack “Gold Pack” active in the south, but against civilians, they are practically Lu Bu (an invincible warrior).
Rat-a-tat-tat!
Along with the scattering gunshots, the walkie-talkie poured out wretched screams.
-Zzzzt! This is Rupert Reich Palace Residents… I repeat! We are being attacked by monsters!!
I listened quietly, then said one word into the radio.
“That’s good news.”
