Hiding a House in the Apocalypse Chapter 73.2

It had been a long ti since I cooked ran.

Ran isn’t sothing I eat often.

It’s been at least two years since I last had it.

The reason is simple: despite its reputation as a preserved food, ran has a relatively short shelf life.

Though the noodles are fried in oil to extend their expiration date, the oil itself has a shelf life.

Manufacturers generally estimate that ran lasts about a year.

Even with frying, vacuum sealing, and additives, it seems ran is not immune to the inevitability of deterioration—perhaps a taphor for its destiny.

I used to have a stockpile of ran, but after the war began, I prioritized eating through it.

Now, there’s barely any left. Just five packs of wing-packaged ran stored in the freezer.

Today, I took one of those out and cooked ran for the first ti in ages.

Bubble, bubble.

Ran always looks its best when it’s cooking.

Why ran all of a sudden?

For one, the warm and slightly spicy dish pairs well with the cold, snowy weather.

But more than that, ran reminds of John_Nae-non, the creator of PaleNet, which is now offline.

Our John_Nae-non wrote about countless topics, one of which was ran.

John_Nae-non’s Post: "On Long-Term Storage of Ran"

It caught off guard.

At the ti, I had always thought of John_Nae-non as a European masquerading as a Korean, living a distinctly Western lifestyle.

His writing habits, choice of terms, and the environnts he described seed more Arican or European than Korean.

Even his examples of ingredients reinforced this impression.

While other users discussed Korean staples like rice, ran, grilled pork belly, Spam, lettuce farming, or kimchi-making efficiency,

John_Nae-non would bring up oatal, lentils, chickpeas, wine, cheese, bacon, ham, thy, basil, and shallots instead of onions.

Back then, I was still naive—my experience on the internet was limited.

It never crossed my mind that our John_Nae-non might have been plagiarizing posts from French survivalist forums and passing them off as his own.

So naturally, I assud he was soone who had lived abroad.

But then, out of nowhere, John_Nae-non began discussing a distinctly Korean topic: ran.

Specifically, ran, a topic that had been the subject of heated keyboard battles.

I couldn’t help but feel intrigued.

What unique, expert-level "Korean" insight would our resident sage, John_Nae-non, bring to the table?

I clicked the post with high expectations.

The content was, to put it bluntly, ridiculous.

"Just put it in the freezer. 😊"

That was it.

A single, unimpressive sentence in a post I had eagerly clicked on with high hopes.

"...Huh?"

It was probably the first ti my faith in John_Nae-non faltered.

Still, given his vast knowledge and sense of humor, I chalked it up to a failed joke and moved on.

Shortly after, I left the board to focus on finishing construction and dealing with the ever-tightening financial noose of reality.

By the ti I returned, John_Nae-non had been exiled into obscurity.

Now, it was ti to test his hypothesis.

Slurp—

"Fuck!"

The taste of spoiled noodles was indescribable.

I forced it down, but I had a nagging feeling it would ruin my mood for the rest of the day.

It’s a petty complaint, I know—one I can afford because I live relatively well.

But eating that spoiled ran brought back mories of John_Nae-non and his creation, PaleNet.

PaleNet is much like spoiled ran.

Its "manufacture date" was when John_Nae-non sealed the PaleNet server room with himself inside.

Since then, it has deteriorated, eventually becoming inedible ran.

But it was good ran while it lasted.

Considering the difficulty of maintaining server facilities capable of handling imnse traffic without upkeep for months, it was no small feat.

With PaleNet’s demise, the election for the board moderator has lost its aning.

Yet VivaBot, lazy as ever, has remained silent for three days since PaleNet went down.

It’s likely the election will simply fizzle out without any updates—classic VivaBot style.

But then, an announcent appeared from an unexpected place.

171cm54kg13cm:

"Hello, everyone. I’m the second administrator of PaleNet."

The announcent wasn’t posted on our board—it ca from PaleNet itself.

Since PaleNet was down, the admin posted the ssage on our board.

To summarize: PaleNet isn’t dead.

So servers had gone down, but with fewer users, it was still operational.

John_Nae-non’s disciple had even remotely upgraded the software and optimized the system.

The problem lay outside.

The antenna installed on the rooftop of the old mansion housing the server had been damaged.

Who or what caused the damage remains a mystery.

But in a city abandoned by humanity, overrun with "things that aren’t human," the culprit didn’t matter.

What mattered was what ca next.

As I read the admin’s ssage, I had a sense of foreboding about the future—a future that quickly beca reality.

171cm54kg13cm:

"Skelton, I’ve heard a lot about you from John_Nae-non."

"He said you were the greatest hunter the world had ever seen."

"We want to continue operations, but safety concerns are preventing us from proceeding."

"I’m sorry to bother you, but we have no one else to turn to."

It was clear where this was going.

While PaleNet was operational when John_Nae-non was alive, it had still been surrounded by danger.

Now, the city was a complete unknown.

They needed soone experienced in combat and survival—soone like .

I ignored the ssage.

The loss of PaleNet would be unfortunate, but it wasn’t worth risking my life to navigate -30°C weather and face whatever awaited in that wasteland.

Monts later, another ssage arrived.

171cm54kg13cm:

"Skelton, I noticed you applied to be a moderator."

"If you help us this one ti, we’ll do everything in our power to ensure you beco the next board moderator!"

I paused.

SKELTON: "What’s the situation?"

*

This isn’t for .

PaleNet is the only sanctuary for the people of Incheon, who are fighting death amidst the harsh cold and hunger.

Back in school, we were taught that as hunters, we fought not for nations, races, or individuals but for humanity itself.

That is what it ans to be a hunter.

As Defender pointed out, the severe cold currently battering the Northern Hemisphere is one of the worst disasters in recorded teorological history, resulting in countless deaths by freezing.

But it also has a silver lining: it nearly eliminates the risk of attacks.

Even mutations die in this kind of cold.

Though not yet conclusively proven, it’s believed that in temperatures below -20°C, even the most powerful monsters can’t survive.

The possibility isn’t far-fetched. Beyond the rifts, the temperature in the otherworld is consistently around 16.2°C.

In that dull gray world, locked in perpetual twilight, the temperature always hovers near 16°C.

I saw it with my own eyes and endured it with my own body when I was abandoned there for nearly a month.

Creatures accustod to such a temperate climate wouldn’t have any natural resistance to extre cold.

Indeed, there have been no reports of monster activity in polar regions.

This has led to the joking suggestion that if humanity were ever to face extinction, the best place to escape would be sowhere like the Arctic or Antarctic.

Like the ancient, dood Old Ones in Lovecraft’s novels, fleeing to the poles seems like a last-ditch option.

With proper preparations for the cold, the journey to Seoul feels safer than usual.

And this ti, unlike before, I have a reliable ans of communication.

Personal Identifier: SPARE2855

"Hello, Skelton."

John_Nae-non’s follower has a personal identifier.

It’s sothing he received back when John_Nae-non briefly collaborated with the governnt.

Sure, it’s cold, but with a clear destination and a way to stay in contact, there’s no reason to hesitate.

Of course, traversing -30°C temperatures requires ticulous preparation.

I packed food—high-calorie MREs that Rebecca gave long ago—along with an excess of hand warrs, portable fuel, and even a bottle of high-proof whiskey I usually avoid.

For water, I prepared two thermoses and placed them atop heated stones in a wood-burning boiler under my seat to keep them warm.

Water is sothing that’s easy to overlook in such cold conditions.

One might think, "If I’m thirsty, I can just eat the snow."

But snow must be lted to drink safely, and it isn’t inherently clean.

Eating it raw is a quick way to a miserable end.

The most critical piece of equipnt is my motorcycle.

In this freezing cold, where even monsters can freeze solid, my motorcycle is both my lifeline and my ans of transport.

I made several modifications:

Heated seats.

Handlebar covers.

A windscreen.

I salvaged these parts from a delivery bike abandoned in Rebecca’s storage area and installed them on my own bike.

The design, to put it charitably, isn’t great.

My elegant steed—the White Beauty—now looks like a workhorse delivery bike.

But the performance checks out.

In this winter, comfort beats aesthetics.

Once the weather warms, I’ll return it to its original state.

Unlike my previous trips to Seoul, this ti I’m departing before dawn to make the most of the sunlight.

The plan is likely a day trip.

Before leaving, I contacted John_Nae-non’s follower via radio.

"Understood. I’ll wait for you at the rendezvous point."

They agreed to et on the outskirts of Seoul.

VROOOOOM—

It’s been a while since I last headed to Seoul.

Thanks to the thorough preparations, I don’t feel the cold at all.

If anything, it’s so warm I’m tempted to take off so layers.

How long has it been since I last felt this carefree riding down the road?

The air is sharp as a blade, and countless people are dying in places I’ll never see.

Yet, the snow-covered world feels so still, so peaceful, it’s almost drowsy.

*

"Skelton!"

In the desolate, ghost-like streets of Seoul, a figure approached —a shadow against the forlorn skyline. It was John Nae-non’s subordinate.

Wearing glasses, his body hadn’t changed much since we last t, but his face looked pale and unhealthy.

His skin had taken on a sickly, blotchy hue—like that of soone who’d destroyed their liver through excessive drinking.

We retreated to the basent of an abandoned apartnt complex, where he showed drone footage of the PaleNet’s antenna.

One of the transmission antennas had been clearly damaged.

"The main transmission antenna went down," he explained. "The receiving antenna is fine, but without the transmitter, PaleNet can’t send signals. Even if soone enters commands, it won’t respond."

Standing there, I decided this man needed a new title.

Back when John Nae-non was around, this guy had been little more than a sidekick. But now, he was the de facto operator of PaleNet.

A title befitting his role was in order.

"I have a complex about my real na," he admitted. "Could you just call Valentine?"

Judging by the smirk he gave, it was likely a na inspired by alcohol.

"Thirty years old, I presu?"

"More than thirty," he said with a chuckle.

We got down to business.

While we’d gone over most of the situation online, humans have an innate tendency—whether conscious or not—to hide information that might be disadvantageous to them.

It’s not inherently malicious; it’s just human nature to conceal weaknesses.

And, as expected, Valentine revealed sothing he hadn’t ntioned before.

"This... was captured accidentally. What do you think?"

He played a portion of the drone footage, showing a pale, humanoid figure moving amidst the ruins.

Even Valentine, who clearly didn’t know what it was, seed aware of its danger.

Anyone would be unnerved by a creature of that size—nearly human in shape yet disturbingly alien—stalking the streets.

Worse still, I recognized it.

Not from personal experience, but from Dongtanmom’s livestream.

It was one of the creatures that had relentlessly pursued her, along with hordes of zombies, during her harrowing escape.

And now, it was here in Seoul.

I let out a sigh.

"This... won’t be easy," I muttered.

My rule is simple: never engage an unknown monster.

It’s a philosophy I developed as Professor, not Jang Gi-young.

I’d seen too many allies die—unable to use even half their skills—because they faced an unfamiliar creature without preparation.

New species should only be handled by the best hunters.

Elite hunters can figure out the optimal strategies with minimal loss and share that knowledge with others.

But that was a principle I upheld during my active years.

Now, I have no intention of risking my life for PaleNet or the people of Incheon.

As I considered the situation, sothing else caught my attention—the fire Valentine had lit.

"Hey, even if this is Seoul, isn’t it risky to have a fire going like this?"

"See that vent? It’s fine. I’ve lit fires here many tis without any trouble."

"No, I an… are you sure there aren’t dangerous people around? I didn’t see any smoke on my way here. In a place as deserted as this, lighting a fire is like painting a target on your back."

Hearing my concerns, Valentine hurriedly extinguished the flas.

But it was too late.

Footsteps echoed from the entrance.

"Is soone there?"

It was a young man’s voice—calm but cautious.

I exchanged a quick glance with Valentine and took cover, weapon at the ready.

"Lower your weapons, please," the voice called out. "We’re not enemies. We’re part of a search party from the National Commission."

His words were asured, but trusting a voice alone is a fast track to an early grave.

Monts later, more footsteps approached.

"Oh?"

This ti, it was a woman’s voice.

Just as I began to think her tone sounded vaguely familiar, a cry of joy echoed through the stairwell.

"Sam!"

That voice. That na.

I broke cover to find myself staring at a woman whose radiant eyes were brimming with tears of recognition.

There was no doubt.

It was her—my forr student of two weeks, Song Yoo-jin.