According to the handbook, in this strange society called Jeju, I needed residency registration to live like a proper human.
With my stomach still empty, I headed to the district office.
There, I completed various registration forms and received my ID.
A young female clerk, probably in her early twenties, alternated between glancing at my face and my docunts before flashing a bright smile.
"Mr. Park Gyu, as a newly arrived adult immigrant, you have a one-week adjustnt period. That ans you're exempt from work for a week!"
"Work?"
"Yes. I don’t know how things were on the mainland, but here on Jeju, everyone either studies or works. We don’t have the luxury of idle hands on an island where everything is scarce."
"What kind of work?"
"Well, since you don’t have any special licenses or degrees… Hmm. Probably a factory or a farm?"
"…I was a hunter."
"Oh? Were you in the military?"
She looked slightly surprised.
I shook my head.
"No. A hunter. Old-school hunter, as we were called."
"There’s no record of that in your file. Actually, there’s not even a code for ‘hunter’ in our system."
"Is that so?"
I had expected this.
How much disrespect would old-school hunters get here?
Of course, in a place where Awakened were the ruling class, relics like us had no place.
"Here, take this card. It’s basically like an old-world debit card. You’ve been given a fair amount of credits. There are shops nearby, so buy what you need. Or, if you're feeling generous, you could even get a gift."
She grinned playfully as she handed the card.
"…"
Was this supposed to be compensation?
Seeing how friendly she was, I figured I wasn’t being completely screwed over.
In addition to the card, I received a cell phone (usable only on Jeju), an information booklet filled with essential survival tips, and a bundle of recycled toilet paper.
Plastic had beco so rare that toilet paper was now bound together with string, resembling an old coin bundle.
"As I ntioned earlier, you have a one-week adjustnt period. Once it's over, you'll receive a call on your phone."
I gave her a small nod before leaving the district office.
At the entrance, a large poster was plastered on the wall.
[※ Forward Base Recruitnt ※]
Exempt from labor, education, and training
Flexible work schedule, generous food provisions
rit-based evaluations and rewards
Priority for those with combat experience against monsters and mutations
A forward base?
Judging by the wording, it seed to refer to outposts beyond the concrete walls.
One thing was clear—it was dangerous.
You could tell from the size of the recruitnt poster alone.
Leaving the office behind, I walked toward the shopping district.
It was right next to the district office and surprisingly well-stocked.
A supermarket, hardware store, electronics shop, and even a bank were present.
There was a jewelry store, a beauty salon, and even a nail salon.
For a mont, I felt like I had traveled back in ti to before the war.
And among those stores was the one I was looking for.
[Harubang PC Café]
PC cafes weren’t unfamiliar to .
I used to frequent them in middle school, and even during my breaks in Shanghai, I had gone with my old teammate Gong Gyeong-min and other juniors.
I opened the door and was greeted by a familiar sight.
Rows of neatly arranged computer desks.
Monitors flickering with ga screens.
People hunched over, wearing headphones, lost in their own worlds.
A staff mber, busy weaving between them.
Just like during roll call and al tis, the demographics were striking.
Almost no one over twenty.
The employee approached, scanned my card, and explained the rules.
"First ti here? Each user gets only two hours per day. Once your ti runs out, the computer shuts off, no matter how many credits you have."
As expected, a countdown tir ("1 hour 59 minutes") was displayed at the top left corner of the screen.
After logging in with the staff's help, I examined the interface.
The screen was filled with ga icons.
Most of the display was taken up by large, colorful ga thumbnails.
League of Sothing-or-Other.
Milecraft.
Gas that had once been global sensations.
And just like before the war, the PC café was filled with people playing them.
The rumors were true—Jeju had recreated a pre-war gaming environnt.
But I wasn’t here to play.
Narrowing my eyes, I scanned the cluttered screen, looking past the gas.
And then, I spotted it.
A small icon tucked into the corner.
[Intranet]
"…"
Is this it?
Jeju’s internet forum.
Straightening my back, I peeked over the partition, glancing at other monitors.
Soone was reading a webtoon.
Unicorn18.
He was here.
I knew it.
In the old days, when the internet was full of options, maybe he would’ve been harder to find.
But now, with most sites gone and internet users reduced to less than 10%, people like us scoured every available platform.
I had done the sa.
Even as one of Viva! Apocalypse!’s top users, I had spent more ti on Failnet during its pri.
Our forum didn’t always have interesting posts. High-quality content was limited.
Unicorn had to be here.
Certain of it, I double-clicked the Intranet icon.
Click. Click.
[Loading…]
A portal site appeared.
"Neiba…?"
Before I realized it, I had muttered the na of an old-world search engine.
The site was heavily stripped down, but the design was eerily identical.
It was as if forr employees had rebuilt it specifically for the Intranet.
It offered news, movies, dramas, webtoons, calculators, calendars, and even governnt services.
I clicked on the webtoon section.
"…"
A small smile crossed my lips.
Filkrum.
That guy.
He was alive.
He had survived and was still drawing comics here.
I hadn't been able to contact him since the governnt seized all satellite internet devices.
But now I had confirmation.
Now… the ssage boards.
I scanned for a forum.
There it was.
[Intranet Public Forum]
This must be it.
Clicking the board, a new window popped up.
[Enter Userna]
As always, I typed:
Skelton.
And… that was it.
No password.
No annoying "opt-in for marketing ssages."
Just a na.
In so ways, this was even more open than Viva! Apocalypse!.
But the governnt didn’t need passwords.
This entire PC café was monitored.
Caras were installed everywhere.
Even the tiny cara on my monitor was recording my face.
They could track everything—not just what I typed, but even my expressions.
Just like the countless surveillance caras scattered across the city.
As soon as I logged in, topic categories flooded the screen.
League of Remicon
Milecraft
Lost Oak
Red Archive
Horse Girls
Webtoons
Haibadooki
Kicking Kids
BasketMans
…
…
There were a lot of them.
The topics were varied.
I clicked on "Kicking Kids", which seed to be about soccer.
Bampapapam: U15 youth player sucks ass lmao
Purudingding: What's Dongducheon ssi's team na?
SpiderMan: Team Nimblefeet recruiting sub goalkeeper (no experience needed)
Bismuth: Anyone got size 280mm cleats? I’ll trade for 275mm (mine are brand new)
I was surprised.
The entire forum stayed on topic.
There were insults and conflicts, but everyone was actually talking about soccer.
No spam.
No random blogs or bizarre images.
A forum where only relevant posts existed.
An "ideal" internet.
But I knew the truth.
This wasn’t freedom.
This was control.
Because these people understood.
In this place, you only talked about soccer.
This place isn’t the internet—it’s an intranet.
The realization struck harder than before.
In this heavily controlled virtual space, my task was clear—I had to find Unicorn18.
But it wouldn't be easy.
There were 42 boards to search through.
I could check them all one by one, but I only had one week.
After that, I'd be just another Jeju resident assigned to work.
What kind of work? I didn’t know.
But it wouldn’t be easy.
Maybe I'd end up in the mutation farm that the pilot had ntioned.
And a week wasn’t really a week.
With just two hours of PC ti per day, my search window was painfully short.
I had to find Unicorn18 fast.
I had to be as efficient as a hunter avoiding a monster’s detection before landing a critical hit.
My eyes scanned the 42 forums, searching for one that Unicorn would frequent.
A place where he would alternate between here and Viva! Apocalypse!.
Sowhere he’d naturally settle into.
"…"
Then, my gaze stopped.
[Red Archive Board]
Red Archive.
Wasn’t that one of those gacha gas filled with 2D ani girls?
I wouldn’t have known, except one of our forum mbers had tried to “convert” us in the most inappropriate way possible.
I still rembered it.
unicorn18: Red Archive Hotaru-chan.jpg
Our Unicorn18 had once flooded our board with off-topic ani images, earning universal scorn from the community.
This was it.
There was no other place.
Without hesitation, I clicked into the forum.
"…"
I fell silent.
It was inevitable.
The atmosphere inside the forum was completely different from anything I had ever seen.
If I had to sum up the entire mood in one word, it would be "emojis."
No one spoke.
Their only form of communication was reaction emojis featuring various ani characters.
If I had to describe the forum’s landscape, it would look sothing like this:
Kyaru: (Crocodile-man giving a thumbs up emoji)
Gunppangtwikim: (Cute ani girl throwing a punch emoji)
HotaruHusband: (Crying ani girl with a swollen bump on her head emoji)
YabaiDesune: (Familiar-looking ani girl swinging a hamr emoji)
BlackRiceFried: (Cat character sleeping emoji)
...
"…Say so actual words, damn it."
I muttered under my breath.
And in that mont, my gaze t soone else’s.
A young woman in her late teens.
She had average features, but her eyes shone with an eerie brightness.
An Awakened.
A strong one.
At least level 5 or higher.
I quickly looked away, pretending not to notice.
Jeju is full of them.
But how was I supposed to find Unicorn in this language-less void?
Even though I boldly used my Skelton userna, could I really locate him here?
Taking a deep breath, I stared at the screen.
There had to be a way.
I scrolled down.
And kept scrolling.
And scrolling.
Nothing but emojis.
Did they even talk here?
Was this so kind of encrypted communication system?
A way to hide ssages from governnt surveillance?
If so, I had no way to break it.
I wasn’t like Valentine or John Nae-non, skilled in cybersecurity.
Nor was I like Ha Tae-hoon, who could decode hidden tech.
There was only one thing I could do.
SKELTON: "Is Unicorn here?"
A lone sentence in a sea of emojis.
No reply.
They ignored .
They kept posting their emojis, as if I didn’t exist.
I checked my remaining ti.
1 hour, 10 minutes left.
Enough ti, but aningless in this strange world.
I took another deep breath and typed again.
SKELTON: "Is Na Hye-in here?"
I left Kang Han-min out.
I didn’t know why.
Maybe because I resented him.
Maybe because I felt guilty.
Maybe because I still blad him.
Or maybe…
Maybe I wanted Unicorn to be Na Hye-in.
I didn’t know.
But my question went unanswered.
And then—
SLAM!
The PC café doors burst open.
Ard police officers stord inside, surrounding .
"You. You're the one."
I didn’t resist.
Because of that, they didn’t handle too roughly.
In the interrogation room, the police officer in charge checked my identity and sighed.
"Let get this straight. You're Park Gyu. Forr hunter. Now classified as an 'Old-School Hunter.' And you sent that ssage because you thought your old comrade, Na Hye-in, might be here?"
I nodded.
It was the truth.
He gestured to his subordinates.
They removed my handcuffs.
"This is a one-ti exception."
The officer lit a cigarette.
"You're only getting released because you contributed to a governnt operation. Otherwise, you'd be in deep trouble."
"…"
"Don't send unnecessary ssages on the intranet. This isn't the South Korea you knew."
He waved his hand.
His subordinates led out.
But I wasn’t done yet.
I turned back.
"Hey."
The officer gave a tired look.
"Where are Kang Han-min and Na Hye-in?"
The officers grabbed , trying to drag away.
I resisted.
Even two officers couldn’t move .
One of them reached for his baton.
But the officer in charge stopped them.
"Let him hear it. He deserves to know. They were comrades."
The officer exhaled a thick cloud of smoke.
"Kang Han-min is inside the Rift. He’s still our hope."
Inside the Rift…?
That ant he was alive.
And as powerful as ever.
But Na Hye-in—
The officer took another drag and finished quietly.
"She’s broken."
"…?"
"She doesn’t leave her house anymore."
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