How the world fell apart and beca a complete ss is a long, tedious, and complicated story, but even amidst that chaos, there are plenty of interesting episodes.
For instance, you could call it the wise foresight of , Park Gyu.
The idea that humanity was on the brink of a crisis had been endlessly drumd into people's heads by everyone from intellectuals to YouTube clickbait creators. But among civilians, there were only two types who actually prepared for the impending disaster.
First, the nouveau riche, who had so much money that they could afford to build private bunkers on their properties. Or, the second group—daring risk-takers who denied reality and were willing to gamble everything on a vague possibility.
I was the latter.
As soon as I sensed the coming crisis, I decisively liquidated my assets to prepare for the apocalypse.
I hadn’t inherited much, but I had accumulated so wealth.
My job demanded that I save money, and towards the end, I pushed myself to the limit, barely sleeping four hours a day while increasing my workload like a madman.
Even so, I wasn’t rich like the nouveau riche, so in between my grueling work, I taught myself various skills.
Basic electrical work, construction, operating heavy machinery, chemical synthesis, rudintary dicine, and so on. If there was sothing I didn’t understand, I bought books or downloaded video tutorials to study.
The most important decision was where to settle down.
It wasn’t an easy choice to make.
I consulted survival experts, civilians who had survived war zones, wilderness explorers, and a doomsday prepper community I’ll introduce later called Viva! Apocalypse!
After extensive deliberation, I selected a location based on four essential criteria:
First, it had to be an area where no one lived and unlikely to attract people even in an ergency.
Second, it still needed to maintain a reasonable distance from a major city.
Third, the terrain of the shelter.
Fourth, the price.
The first criterion is the most fundantal.
For anyone trying to build a fortress for the end of the world, the biggest threat isn’t monsters or hordes of zombies—it’s other humans.
In fact, humans have consistently been the greatest threat to my apocalyptic life.
But humans are also creatures that struggle to survive alone.
The second criterion may seem to contradict the first, but it’s just as crucial.
If you can establish trade with the city, you can secure essential supplies and valuable information in tis of need.
Leaving the safety of your shelter to venture into the dangerous outside world is highly risky, but isolating yourself in a bunker without seeing the incoming storm is a guaranteed death sentence.
The third criterion serves as the foundation for the endless struggle I’ll face until the day I die.
A shelter must allow for surveillance in all directions and should be hard to discover from the outside.
Defense cos after that.
No matter how defensible the terrain is, once the shelter is discovered, it won’t be easy to defend it alone.
Humans, apart from insects, are the most populous species.
Oh, and the soil and groundwater matter too.
The ground needs to be soft enough to dig deep, and the groundwater becos your lifeline once the water supply is cut off.
Of course, all these conditions had to be within the limits of my wallet.
Currency would beco worthless once the world collapses, but preparing for that collapse still required money.
The land I chose was a wooded area nestled between an air force base and a golf course.
It was sparsely populated and easy to monitor. It also maintained a reasonable distance from the city, but it had a fatal drawback.
The land was inaccessible—it was so-called blind land.
It was an unavoidable choice.
Blind land is far cheaper than other plots, sotis by several tis or even dozens of tis.
It was further devalued by unscrupulous waste disposal companies that used it as a dumping ground for construction debris, leaving it piled high with industrial waste.
Still, thanks to that, I secured a reasonably large plot.
It was expansive enough to rival the adjacent golf course.
The issue of no road access was resolved by negotiating with a neighboring landowner. I agreed to pay a usage fee and provide free labor during harvest season. It wasn’t easy, though.
“You’re from Seoul? Well, alright then. Let’s see how you do.”
I can’t recall the old man’s first na, but his surna was definitely Kim.
He was a wiry, short man in his seventies, speaking with a Chungcheong dialect. My first impression of him wasn’t great.
And true to form, Kim Elder’s temper was enough to occasionally provoke murderous impulses even in soone as enlightened as .
Whenever he had the chance, he’d throw tantrums, demand restoration of the land, block the only road with obstacles, and frequently show up asking for help with odd jobs.
When he knocked on my container house at three in the morning, demanding assistance, I was tempted to throw him into the nearest rice paddy.
But what could I do? Cheap things co with strings attached.
The money I saved by buying cheap land was poured into heavy machinery, construction materials, and survival supplies.
I purchased an excavator, loader, drilling machine, and forklift.
Building a single bunker would’ve been cheaper and more professional with hired labor, but my plan was to continually expand and modify my shelter.
My 220,000-pyeong of land would beco both my sanctuary and my fortress in a dying world—a place synonymous with my existence.
Of course, I initially hired people.
The knowledge I had gained from online tutorials couldn’t compare to the skills and know-how of seasoned professionals.
“Sir, are all these machines yours? What exactly are you planning to do?”
The contractors were always surprised when they saw my collection of heavy equipnt.
“Oh, I just got into this as a hobby,” I’d say evasively while working to win their favor.
At first, they were reluctant to let the client participate in the work, but a few rounds of drinks and snacks eventually made us a cohesive team.
Through them, I learned how to dig, reinforce excavations, mix cent properly, and pour it. These were things no book or lecture could’ve taught .
But good fortune is fleeting.
Once construction began in earnest, Kim Elder started causing trouble.
“What the hell are you doing over there, gathering all these people and making such a racket? Did you even get a permit?”
After enduring his tantrums for about a month, I started to understand why he was acting this way.
He seed to need an outlet for his frustrations.
Aging, a failing body, unfulfilled desires, relentless loneliness, and the looming specter of death.
It’s a despair I can barely grasp, but it’s likely what turned him into such a bitter old man.
That, and it seems his temperant wasn’t great to begin with.
The village’s nickna for him was “Son of a Bitch Kim.”
His incessant tirades frequently interrupted the construction of my first bunker and even stirred up complaints among the workers.
I wasn’t a saint myself, and my patience eventually wore thin. Then, one day, I saw a car I didn’t recognize parked outside Kim Elder’s isolated ho.
A sleek, new rcedes-Benz.
A man resembling Kim Elder but taller and younger stood with a middle-aged woman, her lips pouting.
“A son of a bitch, huh…”
The words slipped from my mouth unbidden.
Kim Elder had never ntioned his family before.
Though I’d seen him fiddle with his phone or attempt calls while helping out, this was my first ti seeing them in person.
That day, I discovered the real shadow hanging over Kim Elder.
“Sell this land! We’ll take care of you. Why are you being so stubborn about it?”
The man, who resembled Kim Elder, grabbed him by the collar and shook him like a toy.
The woman with the pouty lips simply watched without making any attempt to intervene. If anything, she seed to silently encourage her husband, a twisted smirk playing on her face.
“You bastard,” the man snarled. “I put up with your shitty tantrums growing up, and what do I get? You give my sister the golden land and dump this worthless garbage plot on . Do you even know how much her husband, Park, mocks these days?”
His voice grew louder as he spoke, revealing a backlog of pent-up resentnt.
Even for soone like , who occasionally entertained murderous thoughts about Kim Elder, this was going too far.
“That idiot working at that shitty company lives in a way better apartnt than now, while I can’t even afford my grandson’s English preschool fees!”
The man’s anger surged uncontrollably, like a boiling pot with the lid about to blow.
“So, are you selling it or not?”
When he raised his fist, I made an exaggerated coughing noise.
The man turned his furious gaze toward .
What do you want?
I stared him down without a word. Slowly, he lowered his fist, muttering unintelligibly under his breath.
anwhile, Kim Elder, still held by the collar, hung his head, looking more defeated than I’d ever seen him. His gaze was fixed on his crumbling house.
“Damn it!”
The man spat a curse, let go of Kim Elder, and stord toward the rcedes with his wife.
As he opened the car door, he shot one last venomous remark over his shoulder.
“Don’t expect to bring Young-jin over for Chuseok this year!”
After the car drove away, I hesitated. Should I just walk past the dazed, slumped-over old man or say sothing to comfort him?
I didn’t like him any more than his son did, but I still needed his cooperation for the ti being.
Suppressing my irritation, I walked over to him.
“So, you saw everything, huh?”
Kim Elder spoke without even looking at . His gaze remained fixed on his dilapidated house.
I pulled a lollipop from my pocket, unwrapped it, and stuck it in my mouth. Then, I crouched next to him, staring at the sa worn-out house he was looking at.
“Was that your son?”
“...Do you have parents?”
I shook my head.
“They passed away in an accident.”
“I see.”
“It was a long ti ago,” I replied casually. “Still, that seed rough.”
Kim Elder let out a deep sigh, his breath seeming to sink into the ground.
“I didn’t give him a garbage plot,” he murmured, his eyes following the departing car. “Back when I transferred the land, it was worth much more than the one I gave to his sister…”
“Ah, so you’re talking about the plot you gave to your son.”
Kim Elder nodded, pulling a cigarette from his pocket and placing it between his lips. I lit it for him, and he took a deep drag before exhaling with a hollow laugh.
“The land I gave my daughter wasn’t anything special either. It was blind land, just like this—worse, even. It had a hill of useless dirt attached to it. But who could’ve known they’d build a ten-lane road right in front of it? Who could’ve guessed a tunnel and a new city would pop up nearby?”
His life story was as predictable as it was pitiful.
He hadn’t been a good father, not even a decent one.
He’d spent his life terrorizing his family with drunken rages and violence—a pathetic excuse for a man.
The only thing that redeed him in his children’s eyes was the fortune he stumbled into when the governnt seized his land. Without that, they might have cut ties with him long ago.
Wanting to wrap up the conversation quickly, I asked bluntly, “Why don’t you just sell the house? You could move sowhere else and start fresh.”
“That’s not an option. I can’t do that.”
Kim Elder exhaled a puff of smoke, tilting his head back to gaze at the sky.
“My wife’s ghost is in that house. She put up with my bullshit her whole life...”
To this day, I still don’t know what I did to earn Kim Elder’s trust.
One thing’s for sure: that brief conversation opened a ten-lane road in his heart.
After that day, he stopped blocking construction vehicles and complaining.
With no more conflicts between us, we naturally grew closer. I even volunteered to help him out with odd jobs now and then.
After all, living next door to soone is easier when you’re on friendly terms.
And there were perks.
I learned valuable farming knowledge from Kim Elder, things a city kid like would’ve never picked up otherwise.
“Farming isn’t about the Gregorian calendar; it’s about the lunar calendar. You’ve got to pay attention to the seasons. That’s what matters.”
He also seed to figure out what I was up to.
“You’re one of those survivalists, aren’t you? A doomsday prepper or whatever they call it?”
“Sothing like that,” I admitted.
“If that’s the case, you’ll need seedlings. Even if the world ends, you’ll need vegetables to eat, right?”
“Do you think I can grow anything underground?”
“As long as you’ve got sunlight, water, and fertilizer, you can grow anything. These days, seedlings are top-notch. The key is dedication.”
As the seasons passed, Kim Elder’s children never ca to visit him.
On Lunar New Year and Chuseok, I’d spot him standing alone in the yard of his crumbling house, staring blankly toward the road.
When China launched its war and missiles struck the capital region, Kim Elder ca running to my bunker in a panic.
It was the first ti I’d ever seen him so shaken.
“Can you find out what happened to my son? Please.”
When communication was restored, I checked the casualty lists.
I had to deliver the tragic news.
Kim Elder hung his head silently, neither crying nor wailing.
And for so reason, I made an uncharacteristic offer.
“The world is going to end soon. If you’d like, you can co stay in my bunker.”
Kim Elder lifted his head to look at , a faint smile spreading across his face.
“Just wait a mont. I need to prepare sothing.”
“Prepare sothing?”
“There’s sothing I want to give you.”
It turns out he was capable of a warm smile after all.
When I went back to check on him, I found him hanging from the beam of his crumbling house, swaying like a dead leaf.
At his feet lay neatly packaged seed packets, ticulously prepared with care.
I couldn’t recover his body.
The blaring of nuclear strike sirens tore through the air, announcing the apocalypse.
All I could do was grab the seeds and retreat to my bunker.
In hindsight, it was the right call.
The fiery blast of nuclear fusion that followed erased the crumbling house and his remains without a trace.
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