There are many ways to approach soone—indirect thods, chance encounters, or feigned coincidence.
Direct conversation should always be the last resort.
If your intent becos suspicious, you risk being blocked, effectively cutting off all future interaction.
I decided to approach Unicorn18 in a more subtle and refined way.
Unicorn18: "the song I'm currently listening to"
The target had just posted another absurd thread.
I left a comnt.
SKELTON: "Alpha One"
Kang Han-min and Na Hye-in, after becoming Awakened, were offered new callsigns by the National Crisis Managent Committee, not their school.
If I recall correctly, Kang Han-min was given the callsign Jupiter, while Na Hye-in received Minerva.
Kang Han-min stubbornly clung to his dishonorable school-given callsign, while Na Hye-in abandoned hers and chose the new one.
Alpha One was a relic of our 13th cohort—a na known only to a select few who shared that era with her, back when Na Hye-in had not yet risen to power.
I left the comnt beneath Unicorn18’s post.
“...”
There will be a reaction—of that, I am sure.
If soone left a comnt on one of my posts calling Professor, I’d probably lose sleep wondering who they were. If it were Woo Min-hee who left the comnt, I might seriously consider moving to another city.
The bait had been set.
Now, all I had to do was wait for the fish to bite.
Leaving Unicorn18’s thread open on my browser, I headed to my sauna.
The new sauna facility I’d built recently was one of my few sources of solace.
It’s strange—back in China, I would ignore the luxurious saunas in five-star hotels, but now, a day feels incomplete without one.
My handcrafted sauna adhered to traditional Finnish thods: a stone hearth, heated rocks, and steam created by pouring water onto the scorching stones.
Chi-i-i-i!
The steam hissed as it rose, filling the air with a comforting warmth. With my eyes closed, I could feel the impurities being expelled from my body, sweat carrying them away.
I carried a rifle into the sauna, of course. That’s the kind of world we live in now.
Even in a peaceful sanctuary like this, vigilance can’t be forsaken.
To push aside the creeping negativity, I tried focusing on positive thoughts.
What if Unicorn18 turned out to be Na Hye-in?
How should I continue the conversation?
Honestly, I wasn’t sure.
There wasn’t much left to connect us besides cosmos, the wildflowers that now bloom both in spring and fall—rootless and ubiquitous.
But then again, ti changes people.
Maybe we’d have things to talk about after all these years.
For instance, I could share the story of how I embarrassed Um Chang-yi.
Na Hye-in was Woo Min-hee’s ntor, though their relationship was far from amicable.
Despite Na Hye-in’s overwhelming talent and flawless deanor, Woo Min-hee had a knack for subtly challenging her authority, poking at her composure in small but persistent ways.
Everyone knew they disliked each other—though, to be fair, nobody truly liked Woo Min-hee.
Perhaps recounting how I outsmarted Woo Min-hee could elicit a rare smile from Na Hye-in.
But if Unicorn18 turned out to be Kang Han-min...
I had no idea what to say.
There were too many unresolved grievances between us—far more than the four syllables of "awkward" could convey.
As students, I’d silently watched Jang Ki-young tornt him, secretly wishing he’d quit.
Things didn’t change in China.
I was part of the elite front-line group—Kim Da-ram, Lee Sang-hoon, and the late Choi Bong-seok.
anwhile, Kang Han-min was relegated to second-line tasks like maintaining order with fresh graduates.
We barely interacted.
Even when we crossed paths in the showers, we exchanged no words.
We attended separate social events, worked in segregated teams, and lived completely parallel lives.
The only aningful interaction we ever had was at Kim Da-ram’s wedding.
Kang Han-min gave 200,000 won as a wedding gift—a highly unusual amount.
At the ti, 50,000 won was considered the bare minimum, and 100,000 won was the standard for school alumni.
The fact that he gave such a large sum, despite having no real connection to Kim Da-ram, left a strong impression.
We ended up standing outside together, awkwardly waiting for the ceremony to begin.
"I should get married too," Kang Han-min said, exhaling vapor from his e-cigarette.
“They say having kids guarantees lifelong employnt.”
At the ti, the National Crisis Managent Committee incentivized hunters to marry and have children, especially those who had served in war zones.
The benefits were substantial, including financial support and accelerated promotions.
Even so, I had my doubts about the policy.
It didn’t seem logical to pull highly trained hunters off the battlefield just to address a declining birth rate.
Losing soone as skilled as Kim Da-ram was a significant blow to my team.
But for soone like Kang Han-min, who was an average hunter at best, the arrangent made sense.
"Who would you marry?" I asked.
A hunter spouse could double the benefits, much like retired teacher couples maximizing their pensions.
"I don’t know," Kang Han-min replied, his gaze faltering.
"Probably another hunter."
"That’s a smart choice. The rewards double."
"Yeah, I guess..."
I followed his line of sight and saw Na Hye-in, dressed in a subdued yet elegant suit, standing among the guests.
It wasn’t hard to guess.
He liked her—of course, he did. But I didn’t consider it my concern.
Rising from the sauna, I stepped into the freezing cold.
The bitter wind, at -38°C, bit into my bare skin as I sprinted back to the bunker, where I rinsed off the ice clinging to my body with hot water.
Refreshed and alert, I sipped a cup of chilled cocoa I’d prepared earlier.
Seated at my computer, I checked the thread where I’d left the baited comnt.
"..."
Nothing.
Unicorn18 hadn’t taken the bait.
Had he logged off?
No.
Unicorn18: "ne-gu-chu... it got hard again..."
On forums filled with desperate cries for help, Unicorn18 nonchalantly wandered, leaving absurd posts in his wake.
I left another comnt.
SKELTON: Alpha One.
Surely, this would provoke a response.
But Unicorn18 remained silent, thoroughly ignoring my comnt while continuing to post an endless stream of absurdities befitting his infamous 20:1 post-to-comnt ratio.
Was he deliberately ignoring ?
Before resorting to direct confrontation—the ultimate last-ditch effort—I consulted the expert, Da-jeong.
"Hey," I called.
Da-jeong sighed, as though pitying .
"Do you really think soone with a 20:1 post-to-comnt ratio reads comnts? That guy only talks to himself. He’s probably turned off his comnt notifications."
"What?!"
Her blunt answer was a cultural shock to .
Turning off comnt notifications? Was that even possible?
My brain struggled to comprehend this alien concept.
But the world is full of things I’ll never understand.
Apparently, Unicorn18 is one of them.
Fine. If that’s how it is, then I’ll have to use the last resort: direct contact.
Tap tap tap.
SKELTON: Noona, I’m bored -
My current persona was modeled after Da-jeong’s Skeleton cosplay days—a female version of Skeleton. It wasn’t by choice.
It was the only ti Unicorn18 had shown interest in .
Sure enough, a reply ca quickly.
Unicorn18: "What the hell? Are you drunk? You crazy bastard."
The response was as direct as it could get.
I typed patiently, taking a delicate, soft approach—a far cry from my usual pinpoint, professor-style precision.
SKELTON: "Oh my, so wild!"
Unicorn18: "Skeleton, you unfunny jerk. Have you finally lost it...?"
I pressed on.
SKELTON: "I’m an innocent young woman in my early twenties who needs protection. I’m looking for a strong, reliable, warm-hearted man."
SKELTON: "Skeleton needs Unicorn18. I want to et you right away. Where are you?"
Unicorn18: "I’m blocking you."
SKELTON: "Wait!"
For the first ti in years, I felt a tension stronger than when facing a monster.
I took a deep breath to steady myself, sweat trickling down my temple as I carefully typed my next words.
SKELTON: "You. You’re Kang Han-min, aren’t you?"
I had finally asked the burning question—one I’d wanted to ask for so long but also feared confronting.
A reply ca, delayed by several monts.
Unicorn18: "?"
Unicorn18: "Who are you?"
I swallowed hard.
Ti seed to slow to a crawl.
It felt like I was watching sand trickle, grain by grain, through an hourglass.
I typed:
"It’s , Park Gyu."
And then deleted it.
Erasing it felt like waves washing away words written in sand.
Finally, I settled on a simpler approach.
SKELTON: "I’m from the school. 13th cohort."
This was the best my courage could muster.
Unicorn18: "Is this a joke?"
His reply was curt, but sohow, it carried a seriousness I hadn’t expected.
Emboldened, I continued.
SKELTON: "Do you need proof?"
If he asked for verification, I was prepared.
I wouldn’t need to reveal my face—just a small, shining badge of the Golden Fleece would suffice.
But there was no response.
The silence stretched.
Was he distracted by sothing else?
No, he was deliberating—just as I had hesitated before revealing myself monts earlier.
After what felt like an eternity, a reply ca.
Unicorn18: "No, don’t do anything."
Before I could process his words, more ssages arrived.
Unicorn18: "I don’t care who you are or want to know. Stop ssaging ."
Unicorn18: "I’m ignoring reality right now, so don’t break my focus."
Unicorn18: "One more word and I’ll block you. Just leave things as they are."
Unicorn18: "What I’m saying is, do we really need to drag reality into this? This is a space for blowing off steam, not bringing in our baggage. Isn’t that why you’re here too? So let’s leave the board as the board, and reality as reality."
It was an unexpected turn of events.
Yet, sohow, I felt it was the most fitting answer—one that my imagination could never have produced.
It was softer, gentler, and avoided unnecessary wounds on either side.
Unicorn18: "Let’s just forget this conversation happened. Enjoy the board. I’ll talk to VivaBot to smooth over this situation."
Unicorn18 had told not to reply, but I couldn’t resist saying sothing.
SKELTON: (Skeleton thumbs up!)
Unicorn18: "Maybe I’ll have good news for you when spring cos. Until then, enjoy Viva!"
In that mont, I imagined the person on the other side of the screen—whether Kang Han-min or Na Hye-in—closing a door and walking away.
Watching them disappear, I murmured quietly:
"...Enjoy Viva."
This might be the first and last conversation between Unicorn18 and .
Unless sothing dramatic happens, our paths are unlikely to cross again.
I confird a possibility, and that’s all this clumsy attempt achieved.
Beyond that? I don’t think it’s necessary.
Leaving things unresolved might be the best choice.
Not everything needs to be uncovered or explained. By now, both Kang Han-min and I are old enough to understand that.
Unicorn18: "Chu-byu-chu-byu!"
SKELTON: "Kkiya-hooo~!"
A relationship defined by mutual awareness but deliberate distance—this might just be the golden ratio for us.
*
Unicorn posted a real-ti video to Live! Apocalypse! not long after that—just before Christmas.
The footage began with the towering peak of Hallasan Mountain, its surroundings scarred by massive fissures. The scene shifted to a colossal wall and fortress, divine in scale rather than human, slicing the landscape. The sky above was an empty, ash-gray expanse devoid of even a single bird.
Then the ground trembled as an enormous Kraken, a ga-sized monster, attempted to breach the wall. It was struck down by rciless artillery fire, collapsing in a heap. The cara panned to a barren field of gravel.
Half the gravel was covered in snow, but I recognized the location imdiately.
It was the sa spot where Unicorn had once photographed cosmos.
The video ended with the faint sound of a sigh.
It was unmistakably a woman’s sigh.
"..."
I couldn’t decipher the aning behind it.
Was it a mockery directed at ? A calculated ploy to provoke or deceive? Or simply an unguarded, raw exhalation from the person filming?
It hardly mattered.
At the very least, this ambiguous, unresolved situation gave a small sense of purpose.
I needed to keep living—just a little longer.
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