Hiding a House in the Apocalypse Chapter 2

Firearms are probably the most efficient weapon humanity has ever created.

They are particularly effective against humans.

It’s not just about shooting soone to kill or injure them. Simply carrying a firearm when interacting with others or revealing oneself is enough to restrain the other person’s actions.

You could call it an etiquette-inducing device that makes others humble just by its presence.

The offensive power against humans is undeniable.

After all, weren’t firearms specifically designed to kill humans?

There’s a saying that their power is reduced against monsters or zombies, and while I partially agree, I can’t fully agree. A tool’s utility depends on how it is used.

In any case, firearms are essential for surviving in the post-apocalyptic era.

As I’ve said repeatedly, humanity’s greatest enemy is humanity itself.

But this is Korea.

In Korea, obtaining firearms is not only difficult but outright illegal, unlike in the United States.

One could prepare for the apocalypse in Arica, but even there, it’s a double-edged sword.

The initial difficulty of a country where everyone is ard to the teeth versus a country where firearms are banned is as different as heaven and earth.

Think of the once-popular battle royale gas.

What fun would it be if you landed and imdiately got shot?

There needs to be a phase where you loot, brawl with fists, and compete in smaller skirmishes.

Of course, it would be more fun for to have a firearm from the beginning.

This was when Kim Elder was still alive.

Kim Elder owned a hunting shotgun.

During normal tis, it was stored at the police station, but during pest control season, he would take it out and flaunt his laughable shooting skills.

“When I was in the military, you know, so North Korean spies infiltrated. I hid behind so acacia bushes, holding my breath, and when one of them appeared from behind a tree, bam! I planted a bullet of liberation right between his eyebrows!”

Later, through personal connections, I found out that Kim Elder had only served in the reserves and had never participated in any counter-spy operations. Nevertheless, his shotgun was a decent weapon.

Being a shotgun, it had high stopping power and could be handled adequately even by soone who wasn’t a skilled marksman.

But such a weapon was insufficient for future preparedness.

My eyes were always on the nearby air force base.

Since it was shared with the U.S. military, it housed Arican equipnt. According to rumors, there were also hunters specializing in anti-monster operations stationed there.

Getting hunter equipnt would be the best outco, but what I really wanted were several combat rifles and a large stockpile of ammunition.

However, that wasn’t easy.

How could I possibly infiltrate an air force base guarded by both Korean and Arican forces to steal weapons and ammo?

My initial plan was a bit rough.

If a war broke out with China, that air force base would be a primary target.

The U.S. military base right next to it would make it a pri candidate for preemptive nuclear strikes in Chinese war plans.

Once the nukes were dropped and the base was in ruins, I would stroll in wearing protective gear and retrieve the weapons and any usable items.

This was my rough draft of a plan.

It sounded absurd, but if I wanted high-quality weapons, this seed like the most realistic option.

Sure, I could try acquiring firearms through Southeast Asian gangs or Russian sailors, but at best, they’d only deal in pistols.

However, as reality turned out to be harsher than anticipated, and the world’s flow diverged from my expectations, even soone like , Park Gyu, began to feel anxious.

SKELTON: “How can you acquire proper assault rifles in a country like Korea or Japan, where security is tight and firearms are banned?”

We live in an era where people create group chats and communities for everything.

Naturally, there’s also an online community for those preparing for the apocalypse.

That’s Viva! Apocalypse!—a haven for eccentric folks like .

mbership isn’t open to just anyone.

You need a Galaxy Link satellite internet device developed by the world-renowned entrepreneur lon Musk, and on top of that, you must pay a hefty monthly fee of $100.

Despite the lavish prerequisites and steep cost, the community had quite a few users, enough to have a dedicated Korean board.

I posted my question there and soon received multiple replies, though none were particularly helpful.

Most were irresponsible suggestions like raiding police stations or small military bases with like-minded comrades to loot armories.

Even my respected ntor, “John Nae-non,” didn’t have practical advice to offer.

Korea’s law enforcent wasn’t lax.

You might pull off a heist, but in a country plastered with high-resolution CCTVs at every corner, there was no guarantee of safety afterward.

Just as I was about to give up on the $100-a-month community, an unexpected proposal ca from an unlikely source.

“This is a bunker, isn’t it? One of those apocalypse prepper things everyone’s building these days.”

The proposer’s na was Kim Wang-soo, an employee of the construction company I had hired for my first bunker.

He was of Chinese nationality—more specifically, ethnic Korean from China.

Until he revealed his identity, I had assud he was a native-born Korean.

He looked younger than , dressed better, spoke with a trendy accent, and carried himself with a modern vibe.

Unlike other employees who tilted their heads in confusion at my request to build a bunker in the middle of nowhere, Kim Wang-soo showed great interest.

“There are many like you in China. Party officials and capitalists with connections to the Party are all rushing to build bunkers in rural areas—much bigger and more serious ones than this.”

It wasn’t just interest.

Kim Wang-soo possessed significant knowledge, insight, and even information about China that I was unaware of.

“A war? Sooner or later, it’s bound to happen, don’t you think? It doesn’t make the Western news, but all the provinces near Inner Mongolia have been overrun by monsters. Millions, maybe billions, have died. The Party is desperately trying to contain it, but honestly, it’s over. It’s only a matter of ti.”

He seed to envy my bunker and the resources I had to build it.

“You must’ve made a fortune. Such a vast plot of land and all that equipnt.”

“Hit it big with crypto.”

In truth, I’d never touched crypto or even stocks. I was an ultra-conservative investor.

“Crypto? Wow—”

Leaning in, Kim Wang-soo glanced around before lowering his voice.

“Do you have guns?”

"Do you have guns?"

"Guns?" I repeated, feigning ignorance.

"Yes. If the world really ends, having at least so solid firearms would be a must, wouldn't you agree? I an, what’s the point of building a superb bunker and stockpiling supplies if so gang shows up and robs you blind? In the end, you’ll starve to death, and all of this would be for nothing."

Kim Wang-soo deliberately exaggerated his Yanbian accent, which sounded almost comically forced. He seed to be flaunting his supposed connections with so underground network.

Among the construction company staff, Kim Wang-soo was well-regarded for being diligent, personable, and sharp, often earning more trust than even seasoned veterans like Manager Hong. He was undeniably smart and capable.

Thinking I had nothing to lose, I decided to explore the opportunity.

The results exceeded my expectations.

“Three Type-56 rifles, 300 rounds of ammo, and three complintary magazines.”

Three rifles with 300 rounds of ammunition were a decent haul.

The price he quoted was steep, but there was no reason to refuse. Solid firearms were a necessity for preparing for the uncertain future.

When the bunker construction was nearing completion, Kim Wang-soo reached out to .

“Boss, everything’s ready. Let’s set a date.”

By that point, I had grown slightly wary of him.

A private investigator I’d hired uncovered that he wasn’t just an ethnic Korean from Yanbian but a mber of a Triad primarily led by mainland Han Chinese.

Fully prepared for any situation, I went to et him.

“Wait here. My associate will bring the goods.”

We waited in silence at a secluded area obscured by industrial waste piles.

The weather was chilly—not freezing, but overcast and windy.

The atmosphere felt oppressive, partly due to the dreary surroundings and partly because of Kim Wang-soo’s ominous presence.

As we waited, Kim Wang-soo repeatedly glanced at his phone.

At one point, I caught a glimpse of the screen. A cheerful photo of a young girl, presumably his daughter, was displayed as the wallpaper.

“Is that your daughter?” I asked.

“Yes, she is,” he replied with a faint smile, the first sign of warmth I’d seen from him.

“She’s adorable. What, seven or eight years old?”

“Seven. Adorable, yes, but such a handful. She drives crazy sotis,” he said, chuckling softly.

It seed he was exchanging ssages with her. On the ssenger screen, I noticed a cute penguin character emoji with its head tilted, accompanied by the ssage: When are you coming ho?

Kim Wang-soo typed a reply in Simplified Chinese, which I couldn’t read, but I guessed it was sothing along the lines of “soon.”

Eventually, a dump truck rumbled onto the property, kicking up dust as it approached.

“Hey! Hey!”

Kim Elder ca rushing out of his house, ready to throw a fit. But the mont he saw , he muttered a few complaints under his breath and retreated back inside.

The truck had only one occupant, and there were no signs of ambush or betrayal.

“Let’s get started,” Kim Wang-soo said.

Following the prearranged plan, we loaded industrial waste from my property onto the truck.

While I operated the excavator to load the waste, his associate unloaded the goods from the truck’s cab.

The rchandise was authentic: three Type-56 rifles, 300 rounds of 7.62mm ammunition, and additional magazines.

The condition was good—well-maintained and fully functional.

There was no betrayal from Kim Wang-soo’s crew, but the situation took an unexpected turn.

As the work concluded and Kim Wang-soo was about to climb back into the truck, he suddenly stopped. With unnerving agility, he approached .

“!”

I instinctively braced myself, anticipating an attack. My hand slid into my pocket, ready to grab the weapon I had concealed there.

But what happened next was anticlimactic.

“Are you living here alone?” he asked abruptly.

For a brief mont, I felt a chill run down my spine, but I maintained a calm facade.

“No, I’m expecting others to arrive soon,” I lied.

“Ah, I see,” he said, nodding.

“Is there a problem?”

“No, it’s just... this bunker seems excessively large for one person.”

“I like spacious places,” I replied evenly.

“I’ve found even a single room in a gosiwon to be perfectly livable,” he said with a faint smile.

“If you ever run into trouble, feel free to stop by.”

“Really? That’s very kind of you.”

“We need to help each other survive,” I said.

Despite his background, there was sothing fundantally decent about him. His carpentry skills were impressive, and his tenacity in pursuing his goals was undeniable.

Above all, he seed like a caring father. The way he smiled at his daughter’s ssages carried a warmth that made reconsider my impression of him.

“Thanks, but I’ll pass,” he said after a pause.

“Why’s that?”

“I’m planning to return to my ho country soon.”

“China?”

“Yes, Shanghai.”

I still didn’t fully understand who Kim Wang-soo was or what drove him, but when he spoke of Shanghai, it felt like a small window into his thoughts and motivations.

It wasn’t until three years later that I heard from him again.

By then, war was on the horizon, and the world’s collapse seed inevitable.

A call ca through on my first cellphone—the one I hadn’t used in years, keeping it active only for ergencies.

The caller ID showed an unfamiliar number.

I hesitated, but when the sa number called again, I felt uneasy.

Checking the surveillance monitors in my bunker, I spotted an unfamiliar vehicle parked near the property.

A man stood outside, looking anxious, one hand in his pocket and a cigarette smoldering between his fingers.

The mont I saw his face, I froze.

It was Kim Wang-soo.

A flood of questions filled my mind. Should I et him? Ignore him? Prepare for a confrontation?

Before I could decide, he made his move.

He opened the car door, spoke to soone inside, then sprinted toward the bunker with shocking speed.

In his hand was a weapon.

An axe.

Of all things, an axe.

“...”

Picking up the first phone, which had rung twice with the sa unknown number, I dialed it back.

“Ah, boss?”

Kim Wang-soo answered warmly, his voice unnervingly casual despite the urgency in the situation. Even while running at full speed, his breathing remained steady and unbroken.

“Kim Wang-soo? What’s going on? Why the sudden call?”

“I just wanted to bid you farewell before leaving Korea.”

“Farewell? Where are you?”

I stepped out into the open, revealing myself.

In the distance, I saw Kim Wang-soo’s characteristic broad, charming smile spread across his face, his energetic deanor as radiant as ever. He was quickly closing the gap between us.

Ten paces away.

Suddenly, he pushed off with his foot, surging forward with explosive speed.

From within his sleeve, a hidden axe erged, its leather casing discarded in midair as it traced a sharp arc.

Watching the axe flying toward , I let out a shallow sigh.

Thunk!

The axe buried itself deep between the shoulder and neck—not mine, but his.

Kim Wang-soo’s face twisted in shock as he struggled to turn his head, looking back at . But his neck was no longer obeying his commands.

Every spasm of his muscles caused the embedded axe to tear further into his flesh, spurting fresh blood between the ruined sinews.

I stepped aside, releasing the axe lodged in his body, allowing him a clearer view of as he collapsed.

Kim Wang-soo flailed desperately, swinging his axe wildly, but each attempt missed by the smallest margin, slicing through empty air.

“A... a soldier...?”

I shook my head.

“A gangster? N-no…!”

“Why did you do this?”

I exhaled lightly, fixing my gaze on the man who was now bleeding out in front of .

“If you had asked, I would have given you this place.”

Kim Wang-soo’s lips curled into a faint smirk.

“Sha... xiang di i...”

Those were his final words.

As his body slumped to the ground, a phone tumbled from his pocket.

Still warm, his lifeless face unlocked the device’s screen with ease, revealing the familiar ssenger interface.

The conversation thread was filled with simplified Chinese characters, unreadable to . Yet, amidst the text, I recognized an image—a penguin emoji sold in Korea.

Tilting my head, I stared at the tiny penguin character asking, “When are you coming?”

“...Hah.”

There was no ti for reflection.

The sirens began to wail—a deafening roar signaling an imminent nuclear strike.

At that mont, our Kim Elder was still alive.

*

How much ti had passed since the storm had subsided?

The Geiger counter chirped, signaling that it was finally safe to venture out.

Climbing into the old four-wheel-drive vehicle I had carefully tucked away in the shelter, I headed toward the airbase.

It was a cautious move. Just in case.

But then—

“What the… is this so kind of sick joke?”

The words slipped bitterly from my mouth.

Beyond the collapsed buildings lay a mountain of firearms and weapons, scattered and abandoned.

No Hunter equipnt, unfortunately. Still, this haul was nothing short of miraculous—a jackpot. Enough to arm a private army and then so.

In hindsight, my rough plan to scavenge weapons from a military base after societal collapse had proven to be correct after all.

I glanced toward the spot where Kim Wang-soo’s vehicle had been parked.

The charred wreck of the car lay on its side, grotesque and blackened, a grim relic of the past.

Even now, I occasionally wonder.

If Kim Wang-soo hadn’t made that deal with , could he and his family have survived?

I don’t think so.