“······.”
Tak tak tak.
“What are you doing?”
Ignoring Cheon Young-jae’s question, I sent another ssage.
It was objectively a little absurd—asking for soone’s whereabouts online when that very person was already waiting at the agreed-upon location in the real world.
Back in the days before cell phones, maybe this would’ve made sense. But we live in a ti where the absence of a phone is unimaginable.
SKELTON: I’m right in front of you.
SKELTON: Can you co outside?
SKELTON: Or at least say sothing? Let hear your voice?
Ever since that mont I reconnected with Foxgas, I’d felt an odd sense of dissonance.
At first, I chalked it up to the natural changes brought by the tis—this bleak, warped reality. But the more we exchanged ssages, the more frequent the contact beca, the more that dissonance deepened.
Objectively, we did have “conversations.”
There was a goal. We exchanged information. Reached conclusions.
By the standard of communication as the realization of intention through dialogue, you could say our conversations were successful.
But all along, I kept feeling sothing was... wrong. Off. Unreal.
What began as vague discomfort took on concrete form the closer I got to Foxgas’s bunker.
And then it hit .
The Foxgas I’d been talking to... might not be the Foxgas I thought I knew.
Even now.
ssage from foxgas: Right in front? Then you must be near the IC?
ssage from foxgas: (Attachnt)
ssage from foxgas: Here’s the navigation route from IC to our bunker. Use it.
ssage from foxgas: :)
At a glance, the conversation seems normal. But sothing’s off.
It’s not that soone’s impersonating Foxgas.
ssage from foxgas: My voice?
ssage from foxgas: My voice is deep and alluring.
ssage from foxgas: :)
Yeah.
“······.”
It doesn’t feel like I’m talking to a person.
Back before the war, there was a massive boom in the AI industry. Everyone called it the next big thing—one that would carry humanity into the future.
Among its top innovations was the real-ti AI chat service.
Even on our own forum, similar services circulated. Particularly those involving paid coding bots, which industry insiders praised for their professional-level sophistication.
But I knew jack shit about any of it.
Back then, I was a multi-debtor and officially designated credit delinquent—a walking liability. I was in and out of court in Busan all the ti (since my registered address was there). I didn’t exactly have the bandwidth to keep up with tech trends.
Still, despite my ignorance, a gnawing suspicion had lodged itself in my gut:
What if the person I’m talking to... is an AI?
“Director Park... sothing wrong?”
Dongtak, who had no doubt gained a heap of life experience today, cautiously asked while watching monitor the internet.
Even a kid like him could see it—I didn’t look good.
A reaction that, in the past, would’ve been unthinkable.
But here I was.
Dealing with sothing that concerned an old friend from the forum.
In that mont, I was already halfway to accepting a grim truth.
“No. It’s fine.”
I looked out the car window.
One natural hill ca into view.
Foxgas’s bunker, expertly camouflaged.
The empty plain stretched wide, with not a soul in sight.
Off in the distance, sothing dark—possibly a mutation—was staring back at us.
“······.”
Tak tak tak.
SKELTON: I’m in front of your bunker.
SKELTON: How do I get inside?
Exactly one minute and thirty seconds later, a reply ca.
ssage from foxgas: Is this really Skelton?
ssage from foxgas: It is, right? You’re Skelton?
ssage from foxgas: This is the real Skelton, yes?
“...?”
That was new.
I felt a flicker of hope rise in my chest as I began typing.
SKELTON: Yeah. This is Skelton.
SKELTON: The mythical, nad Skelton. ^^
A hopeful ssage.
But the reply I got—
ssage from foxgas: #user_identification "SKELTON"
ssage from foxgas: #check Nickna "Skelton" - true;
ssage from foxgas: #check verification IDnum - true;
ssage from foxgas: #check userproceduralverification - Considerable; or #user is not "dies_irae69", "ROKA_HUN", "anonymous1323"...
...
...
It was code. Programming language I couldn’t decipher.
“······.”
A familiar sense of collapse washed over as the next ssages ca in.
ssage from foxgas: (Attachnt)
ssage from foxgas: Follow this route to enter, Skelton.
ssage from foxgas: Skelton.
ssage from foxgas: So it was you, you rude son of a bitch. I had a feeling. It had to be you. If not you, maybe M9. Or Dongtanmom.
ssage from foxgas: Anyway—there’s sothing I’d like to ask you.
ssage from foxgas: :)
“What the hell?”
Kim Daram, who’d been pacing in front of the bunker, shouted while holding her nose.
“It stinks like a corpse out here!”
“It doesn’t look like suicide—more like natural causes. There aren’t any hesitation wounds, and the body’s lying down peacefully. I did find so narcotic painkillers, but this feels more like they were used to dull the pain, not for suicide. The dosage doesn’t seem lethal, either. No signs of poison or coal briquettes. Though the decomposition makes it hard to say for sure, I personally think this was natural death. That doesn’t an it was painless, though.”
Kim Daram’s husband, Kwon Gi-ryong, spoke solemnly as he stared down at the deceased’s face.
“To die alone in a place this vast, with no one watching over you at the end... that must be a profoundly lonely thing.”
My worst suspicion had co true.
Foxgas was dead.
He lay there like a character from a gothic novel, eyes closed inside a perfectly positioned paulownia coffin.
Yes.
I had been speaking with the ghost of the dead.
And that ghost had led to the corpse.
Aside from us, the only mourners were flies, maggots, and other disgusting creatures I’d rather not na.
Kim Daram reeled in disgust, but her expression gradually shifted as she took in the sheer size and luxury of the bunker.
Well, she’s been through a lot. Her standards have probably co down since her days of being called “Assemblywoman.”
I’m not saying my bunker’s worse than Foxgas’s cash-paved fortress. Not at all.
Handling the body fell entirely to .
Cheon Young-jae offered to help, but I only asked him to lift the coffin.
I don’t know how to explain it—sothing about this felt like my responsibility.
It felt sacred, in a way. As if I were performing a ritual only I was qualified to do.
Oddly enough, I was even a little awed.
Say what you want about Foxgas, but he was the kind of guy who succeeded.
So mocked him as just another lucky bastard from a privileged generation. I used to agree. But the more I learned, the more I realized—he was better than others in certain areas.
Just look at the post-death arrangents.
No one can bury their own corpse. But Foxgas had prepared everything he could.
Behind the bunker, a grave had already been dug—probably by a New Seoul governnt contractor using a backhoe. A testant to his ticulousness.
Even around the grave were frozen lavender blooms—perhaps ant to be scattered over him after burial.
And like all people who prepare for death, Foxgas had left a will.
A living one, in a sense.
“Oh. Hm. Ahem. Hello? Haha... Alright, I’ll keep it casual. Anyone watching this video must be one of my friends—friends I’ve acknowledged as fellow survivors of the apocalypse.”
His will was a video.
No matter how advanced deepfakes got, could anyone replicate that exact look in his eyes? The gaze of a man who knew death was coming?
“I don’t know who’s watching this, but congrats. You’ve earned the right to inherit everything I, Donald Park Jung-gi, A.K.A. Foxgas—legendary second-generation Korean developer, cultural warrior of the Korean gaming boom, and tireless guardian of gaming in the apocalypse—left behind!”
“Bullshit.”
That smug tone and expression—pure Foxgas.
“Is that him?”
As I watched the video, Kim Daram’s family entered the expansive, plush developnt lab at the heart of the bunker.
I made room for Dongtak and pressed play again.
“I knew I was dying. Honestly, at my age, who doesn’t have at least one chronic illness? And chronic illness basically ans your body’s busted. Before the war, a hospital could kinda patch «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» things up, keep you going... but now...”
“When I started in gaming, everything was primitive. All we had was youth and passion. Looking back, that was the most valuable asset. But with age, and the weight of responsibility, we all lose who we were. I was no different. I didn’t do anything exceptional in the ga industry—but I gave everything my all. My hottest years burned away my hottest flas...”
“Rigged probability. Yeah. I did it. Back in the era when people used digital caras to upload image files to forums... the legendary ‘two-hour apology beating show’ was real. The CEO? That asshole had padding under his ass. But , the youngest? I took that acacia stick straight to the bare butt...”
God, he talked too much.
I sped it up to 2x and skipped through the seemingly endless video will.
“...and so, even though Foxgas ends here, the myth of Foxgas doesn’t. As long as humanity exists, it won’t end. People have debated the definition of humanity since the Bronze Age, but in the end—humans are animals of play. Only higher beings can enjoy play.”
Now things were getting interesting.
Special effects, shimring on screen—clearly added by Foxgas himself.
Six cards appeared.
“Even though the current governnt has failed, I still believe in humanity. I an, look at us! Even using the rift’s transmissions to stay online. That’s faith in the internet, right? So I’ve prepared sothing. Things that never had a chance to spread their wings—until now.”
The first card flipped over.
Foxgas’s first legacy.
[Immortal – Personalized A.I. Chatbot Service]
“After years on the forum, didn’t you ever think this? When soone dies and disappears, you don’t want to be like that. You don’t want to be pitied. You want to stay. That’s what I thought.”
From the start, I knew what his “legacy” really was.
“Ha.”
It had to be the ghost that led here.
“This is the chatbot. It learns my usual way of speaking, my interests, my vocab... so even if I die, it can mimic . I admit, it’s nothing compared to the Arican models. I barely got this one working with the source code I scraped together.”
Of course.
Another thing he probably borrowed from soone else.
Classic Foxgas.
Still, thanks to that ghost, I found this place.
“Think about it. Even after we die, on the forum, as long as our accounts stay logged in and we answer ssages, people assu we’re alive. Death in the real world doesn’t an death online. So say a person’s death only becos real when others acknowledge it.”
I’m not sure.
We lived through the sa apocalypse, but maybe we really did live in entirely different worlds.
But I do get it. A little.
Foxgas’s heart.
“Oh, and even though it’s AI-based, you don’t have to rely solely on the AI. You can insert real ssages you wrote while alive, based on specific triggers. Adds that human touch, right? Of course, my post-Foxgas bot includes plenty of those human-slling ssages!”
But that sentint didn’t quite reach Kim Daram and her crew.
“What’s he saying?”
“Chatbot? What even is that?”
While they scrambled to understand, the second card flipped.
[Fox House]
The second legacy was the very bunker we were standing in.
A bit strange.
If we’re watching the will, it ans we’ve already claid the bunker. Foxgas must’ve known that.
He even spoke assuming we were friends of his.
There was a pause.
Then a deep, heavy sigh from Foxgas.
“At the very least... I hope you’re not Dies_Irae. I an, I hope you’re not.”
His expression darkened when he spoke the na.
Pure hatred and loathing.
“Yeah. If it’s Dies_Irae, he won’t be able to watch this video. I set up a trick on my server. Rember the strict verification when entering? If Dies_Irae or his crew forces their way in, the server explodes. Not a kaboom, but a ‘poof.’ Still enough to erase everything, including this will.”
Cheon Young-jae signaled and left the room.
He was going to search for the explosives.
I nodded and kept watching.
The reason soon beca clear.
“...The more you learn about Dies_Irae, the worse he gets. I’m a doomsdayist too, but he’s sothing else. It’s like he wants the world to collapse, all the way back to the Stone Age. Yeah—he wants everyone else destroyed so his little group is all that’s left. You gain nothing by staying close to him. Sure, he’ll welco you in—but all you’ll get is emptiness and ruin.”
I nodded again.
Thinking to myself.
So even Foxgas finally realized what kind of person he was.
We’re all doomsdayists, but...
Is there anyone who purely desires the world’s destruction like Dies_Irae?
Kang Han-min may be doing sothing similar right now, but he doesn’t hate humanity.
He’s just an obsessive with tunnel vision—focused solely on destroying monsters.
Dies_Irae is different.
He genuinely enjoys the apocalypse.
He revels in seeing the world overturned, watching everything we knew crumble—just so he can rise above it all.
“······.”
This may just be my imagination, but I can’t help but think—
When all this ends, and the only goal left is survival, my final enemy won’t be a monster... or so renowned powerhouse...
But Dies_Irae.
That chilling thought passed through —just as the third card flipped.
The na on it made my eyes snap wide open.
It carried enough power to wash away even the dread that was Dies_Irae.
[New! Viva! Apocalypse!]
A new forum.
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