One year and eight months after the war began.
The air was beginning to warm—one of those lazy spring days.
In the distance, I could hear gunfire.
Here we go again.
How many bullets do that mother and daughter even have?
They’ve probably fired off thousands by now, but judging by how they keep shooting day after day, you’d think they were running a bullet factory.
Lately, it seems the daughter has also started learning how to shoot. Occasionally, I hear two shots fired in quick succession.
Call it post-apocalyptic early education.
The sniper, crazy as she may be, is undeniably an excellent shooter.
When facing ordinary people, she delivers near misses—clipping their heels or a car’s side mirror—to drive them off. But when it cos to direct threats like zombies or raiders, her bullets land squarely in the center of their foreheads.
And it’s not just bullets; she’s ard to the teeth with heavy weaponry.
From what I’ve seen in that Humvee of hers, she’s got everything from Claymore mines to guided missiles like the Javelin.
Lately, though, it isn’t their gunfire that’s been bothering .
That’s a sound I’ve grown to appreciate.
What’s been irritating is the deafening roar of a transport plane cutting across the sky.
There’s been a sharp increase in transport planes recently.
To the point where it feels like pre-war levels.
I thought all resistance from the Chinese side had been eliminated. What’s the issue now?
anwhile, word on the streets—or what’s left of them—is that lotteries are suddenly trending in Seoul.
And not just trending—they’re the hot topic.
Anonymous848: “I heard the rumors too. Supposedly, they’re amazing.”
Kyle_Dos: “I had to stop by Seoul recently, and everyone was talking about the lottery.”
Anonymous458: “I heard the first prize is a total life-changer.”
The fact that mbers of our community—people who’ve resolved to sever ties with society—are showing interest says a lot.
I used to think I was the kind of guy who wasn’t easily swayed.
Maybe “steady” is the right word. Soone not easily influenced by the whims of the world.
SKELTON: (Question) “Where can you buy lottery tickets?”
But curiosity is a funny thing.
If you don’t know, you ask.
Unfortunately, as a less popular user, my posts rarely get replies.
What’s the problem, I wonder? Could it be the way I title my posts?
I don’t know why, but I feel like I used to get more replies when I posted casually.
Luckily, before my impatience reached its limit, soone responded.
Defender: “You don’t buy them. You have to participate in state labor programs to get one.”
“…”
The responder was Defender, the infamous Human Hunter.
I appreciated the answer, but I still found him unsettling.
I wish he wouldn’t comnt on my posts.
This ti, though, his response had rit.
Defender: “Here’s proof of my ticket.”
The guy actually had a lottery ticket.
His proof marked the beginning of what would beco his “Lottery Series.”
Defender: “I’m starting a lottery series now. Read it if you want; ignore it if you don’t.”
It was astonishing.
The sa psychopath who used to only post “kill confirmations” was now writing about the hottest social trend.
Defender’s proactive nature was well-docunted during the Demian04 incident, but this sudden pivot to sothing so... wholeso was probably related to the Christmas Tree incident.
While not quite on the level of “IamJesus,” seeing the venom-filled decorations must have struck a nerve. He’d even posted a complaint about it.
Defender: “Did I really deserve that?”
He seed genuinely shocked, and for the first ti, I was convinced he was a true psychopath.
Regardless of the cause, Defender’s Lottery Series satisfied the information cravings of those of us living far from Seoul.
The Hope Lottery bore a striking resemblance to the pre-apocalypse lottery.
The key difference was the total numbers to choose from. While the old lottery had 46 numbers, the Hope Lottery had only 44, making the odds of winning slightly better.
Hope Lottery tickets couldn’t be purchased with money. Instead, participants had to join governnt labor projects. Upon completing the required workload, tickets were distributed alongside wages. Drawings were held every three days at designated locations in local district offices.
Defender: “The fifth-place prize was toilet paper.”
Defender, lucky as always, even uploaded proof of his winning—a roll of toilet paper.
Unlike the plush, embossed rolls I had stored in my bunker, this one was made of coarse, low-grade paper that looked like it would wreak havoc on sensitive skin.
Even this subpar toilet paper, however, held considerable value in Seoul, where essential supplies were scarce. It could reportedly be traded for several als’ worth of food.
As the prize ranks climbed, the rewards improved: sugar, rice, fuel reserves, and even luxury items like cigarettes, alcohol, and dicine were included.
The coveted first-place prize was quintessentially Korean.
An apartnt.
At first, I wondered why anyone would care about an apartnt when the city was full of abandoned, ruined buildings.
As expected, though, this wasn’t just any apartnt.
Defender: “Check out what kind of apartnt this is.”
He uploaded another photo, and while his post had garnered few comnts thus far, this image was an exception.
The rendering depicted a sprawling apartnt complex designed similarly to the fortress-like hos of the ultra-wealthy we’d seen before.
Concrete walls surrounded the entire property, with apartnts neatly arranged within. At the center were agricultural fields, workshops, and sports facilities, including soccer and basketball courts. In the very middle stood a multipurpose hall for events and other functions.
Compared to the private mansions of conglorates, the most notable difference was that the mansions had been replaced by nurous apartnts. Golf courses were swapped for sports fields, but the scale was much larger—suitable for thousands rather than just a family.
Anonymous848: “This is it. This is the dream.”
Kyle_Dos: “No joke? This is incredible.”
Anonymous458: “This is basically a mass-market version of a conglorate mansion.”
The community’s response was overwhelmingly positive.
So much so that it even prompted long-standing cynics to reconsider their stances.
DocKim: “I’d like to live in a place like that.”
qwer1234: “If this had existed before the war, I wouldn’t have wasted money digging my bunker and just moved in.”
mmmmmmmmm: “I’m sick of bunker life. Koreans are ant to live in apartnts.”
Bunker life really is miserable.
Freezing in winter, sweltering in sumr.
Damp, slly, infested with bugs, cramped, and without windows.
No matter how well-decorated, bunkers always feel stifling, which is why I often step outside to breathe fresh air.
Even with all my effort to expand and transform my bunker into sothing more akin to an underground empire, it still feels oppressive. I can only imagine how suffocating it must be for those living in standard-sized bunkers.
One of my favorite users, Anonymous337, had many reasons for taking their own life, but I’m convinced the stress of cramped bunker living played a significant role.
As for my thoughts on “The Hope” apartnts?
SKELTON: (Opinion) “Before debating whether ‘The Hope’ is good or bad, is it even feasible?”
It’s a big question mark.
As usual, no one responded to my post, though soone did give it a single like.
Nevertheless, the small ripple Defender caused with his post sent waves through the hearts of us doomsday enthusiasts.
This guy—he might actually be competent after all.
The thought is even more unnerving.
*
A week after the conclusion of the Hope Lottery series by the Human Hunter, a post surfaced in the community and quickly shot to the top as a popular thread.
“What?!”
Watching it climb the rankings in real-ti filled with a deep sense of self-loathing.
My earlier post about Je Pung-ho and my conglorate tales barely managed to reach the popular section by its third installnt. And, to be honest, I had to employ a bit of technical manipulation to get it there.
I, Park Gyu, couldn’t bear to see my ticulously crafted long-form post buried, so I resorted to clicking on it endlessly to inflate the view count.
I probably boosted it by around 100 views.
The creator of Viva! Apocalypse!, lon Musk, likely hadn’t foreseen such scenarios; otherwise, he might have disabled the ability to inflate one’s own views. Hence, my little trick was possible.
But this new popular post? No such gimmicks were involved.
Every reader left a comnt, and likes were pouring in.
It was the epito of a “free pass” to popularity.
Swallowing my envy and frustration, I clicked on the post.
mmmmmmmmm: “I won the Hope Lottery, lol.”
“Oh.”
Fair enough. A topic worthy of attention.
Feeling defeated, I read through the content.
"After reading Defender’s post, I left my bunker and signed up for the national labor program. I went over to Jungnang District, and while I was pissed off at the military jerks at the entrance demanding an entry fee like bandits, I couldn’t shake my curiosity about the lottery. So, I squeezed into the plaza full of non-apocalyptic beggars in front of the district office, got assigned to a labor spot, did so grunt work, and finally got my ticket.
By sheer luck, the draw happened that sa day. I checked my ticket right there in the district office plaza, and the result was…
*”
The owner of this lazy, chaotic userna, mmmmmmmmm, had won the first prize in the Hope Lottery issued by the governnt in Seoul.
In other words, they’d earned the right to live in the futuristic residential complex advertised by the governnt.
This ant leaving behind the miserable, lonely existence of bunker life for a new start in a luxurious, newly built apartnt with breathtaking views—one that rivaled the semi-conglorate mansions.
The winner was understandably ecstatic.
There was no need to guess or probe their thoughts.
mmmmmmmmm: “Hey, where do I find a woman to marry now? As a ‘Hope’ winner, beautiful won are going to line up, right?”
They were absolutely over the moon.
The very image of soone who had stumbled into fortune after a lifeti of having nothing.
But this person began to change—drastically and strangely—after winning the lottery.
mmmmmmmmm: “The move-in date is next year. Do I really have to endure another year in this dump? I swear I’m going to lose my mind.”
mmmmmmmmm: “Looking back, I didn’t even need to dig a bunker or any of that crap. I could’ve just hidden supplies in my old house. It seems like you still get rations if you’re in Seoul.”
mmmmmmmmm: “Humans are ant to live together. Living alone just makes you easy prey for raiders.”
mmmmmmmmm: “Sure, I won the lottery, but the thought of staying in this hellhole for another year is making my head spin.”
Now that they were heading for better prospects, they started openly criticizing our community and way of life.
I’d known this person for a while, but they weren’t the type to post often, let alone write such abrasive comnts.
I understood their joy, but their posts were becoming unpleasant to read.
So I decided to say sothing.
SKELTON: (Advice) “M9, does winning the lottery make you royalty? Let’s keep it reasonable.”
Apparently, I wasn’t alone in my thoughts, as my comnt sparked a wave of similar responses.
Several users chid in to call them out.
Anonymous848: “Blocked.”
Kyle_Dos: “Sa, I’m blocking this guy too.”
Anonymous458: “Where’s the Human Hunter when you need him? Why hasn’t he dealt with this idiot?”
Blocking and ignoring were the community’s ways of maintaining order against troublemakers.
Even Defender, who had once been on everyone’s blocklist but later beca a notable figure, had a curt response for M9.
Defender: “Do you really trust this country?”
M9 didn’t reply.
Of course, they wouldn’t. They weren’t stupid enough to provoke soone like Defender—a man who didn’t limit himself to killing ho intruders but also ventured out for preditated murders, all while masquerading as a functioning mber of society.
Still, I had a fond mory of M9.
I knew them.
They had been an early mber of John Nae-non’s fan club. One of the few in their twenties.
They probably didn’t rember , but I rembered them.
Thinking back to how they’d enthusiastically grilled at at a shady Korean barbecue joint, I picked up my K-walkie-talkie.
Private ID: DARAM. Would you like to initiate contact?
Private ID-based one-on-one communication—a privilege reserved for those with a personal identification number in this post-apocalyptic world.
“Didn’t expect you to contact first, senior. What’s up? Not much work here, but there’s plenty of openings at the frontlines.”
From the other end of the radio ca the faint sound of jazz music.
Their environnt must be vastly different from mine, I thought.
“I wanted to ask you about sothing.”
I inquired about the apartnt.
The reason I reached out to this botherso junior was my suspicion that the apartnt complex wouldn’t be completed.
The conglorates had been reduced to noble clans, and there were no companies left capable of undertaking such a project. Even if they found workers, where would they get the materials or the resources for a self-sustaining system?
And not for a mansion ant for a dozen people, but for a massive complex housing thousands.
Most of all, the fact that the governnt was offering this lottery felt fundantally twisted.
“Hope…”
I could almost picture Kim Daram exhaling cigarette smoke as she said it.
“It’s nothing but a mirage.”
I imagined her staring out at the ruins, a city dood to lose both its present and future.
After a brief silence, she sighed and added one more piece of information.
“We’re relocating to Jeju Island. By next spring, everyone will be gone.”
The mont she said that, a transport plane roared overhead, its sound resonating louder than ever inside my bunker.
“….”
One lingering question I’d had was finally answered.
“Don’t tell anyone about this. It’s classified.”
Of course, I agreed.
I kept it to myself and told no one.
I did what I could.
SKELTON: “That apartnt complex probably won’t be built. Keep your bunker and supplies in order—anything could happen.”
I sent the ssage directly to M9.
It was my way of repaying the mory of their earnest effort grilling at at that barbecue joint.
The response ca quickly.
mmmmmmmmm: “Blocked.”
Goodwill is rarely received as intended.
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