Monsters, mutations, humans, diseases, and food shortages.
When I built and expanded this bunker, one of the key considerations was the type of threats that might co my way.
There will be many kinds of threats.
So can be stopped, so cannot, and so will appear as threats but will rely pass by.
What is the worst kind of threat?
The spread of erosion reaching my territory?
No.
That’s inevitable, like the unavoidable end of a human lifespan.
The threat I truly fear is becoming the target of a powerful human group.
Such groups will co in many forms.
They could be desperate refugees, pioneers, or raiders.
But the group I truly dread is clear.
The military.
I’ve made the military my enemy.
What should I do?
Should I abandon the bunker, or die defending it?
This isn’t a simple question.
Even if I run, where would I go?
Should I live as an errand boy for soone like Baek Seung-hyun under Woo Min-hee’s thumb?
Should I join a pioneer group and drive others to their deaths?
Or should I move in next door to M9, tie myself up with ropes, and perform circus acts to survive?
This is a defining mont for Park Gyu.
Yet, I seem to be an ordinary person after all.
The fact that I’m wasting ti on frivolous things instead of making this crucial decision proves it.
It all started when I logged onto the internet, intending to cool my overheated, overthinking brain.
Although Failnet was an option, my heart naturally gravitated toward my true ho: the Viva! Apocalypse! Korean forum.
I’m not the only one who feels this way.
Many of my friends, who had been drawn to the vast content of Failnet for a while, couldn’t resist the nostalgic warmth of our community. One by one, they returned, bringing even more energy than before, and the forum is now as lively—if not livelier—than it used to be.
When I logged in, the forum was already bubbling with an intriguing topic.
Anonymous458: What’s the worst thing you did before the war? Let’s hear it.
This provocative opener, posted by Anonymous458, one of Kyle Dos’s friends, sparked the thread.
A so-called Confession of Bad Deeds.
With the battle outside my house no longer a hot topic, forum users gleefully latched onto this new bait.
Soon, the forum turned into a giant confessional.
Anonymous458: I’ll start with my bad deeds.
ㅇㅇ: I’ll confess, too.
RKKArA: Confession.
Dolsingnam: Confession (A.K.A. adultery).
Da-young’s Dad: This forum is wild~ I’ll confess too.
iamjesus: Therefore, bear fruit worthy of repentance.
The pre-war condition was a necessary qualifier. After all, murder is considered an unforgivable sin in almost every religion.
For those who lived in urban refugee camps, it might not apply, but for people like us—isolated and living alone or in small groups—violence is an ever-present reality, and self-defense is essential.
Most people here have probably killed at least once.
Even now-deceased users like Kyle Dos and DragonC never explicitly said so, but they likely had their share of blood on their hands.
The pre-war qualifier wasn’t just to prevent our confessions from being filled with monotonous tales of murder. Unexpectedly, it also served to remind us of a bygone era—the things we did back then that are now irretrievable mories.
Anonymous848: (Confession) I drove drunk once. I was so wasted my blood alcohol level was 0.1%.
Take Anonymous848’s confession about drunk driving.
That’s not even a cri anymore.
There’s no alcohol, no cars, and no roads left to drive on.
In other words, it’s a cri that’s practically impossible to commit now.
These differences make our lives in the apocalypse strangely fascinating.
ㅇㅇ: When I was in college, I skipped out on paying at a bar once.
Even this has beco a nostalgic mory.
I’ve never been to college, but it’s a scenario anyone can imagine and a story that sounds vaguely familiar.
These stories remind us of a past we can no longer return to.
Foxgas: Back in high school, I stole 50,000 won from my dad’s wallet to buy a ga console...
Foxgas’ confession feels like a bad deed, sure, but there’s sothing about it that stirs our emotions.
Unicorn18: In high school, there was this bully who wouldn’t stop harassing people. So one night, I put on a mask, found him, and beat him to a pulp. He cried and begged for his life...
So posts were outright lies no one would believe.
Defender: I was so hungry once, I stole a fish cake skewer from a convenience store.
Then there were confessions from friends whose bad deeds seed oddly virtuous.
Joining in on this fiery thread felt inevitable, like adding red beans to red bean bread.
Tack, tack, tack—
That’s why, even with a mountain of tasks ahead of —including reaching out to Woo Min-hee to beg for my life—I found myself ignoring reality and typing up a long post for the forum.
The story dates back to the ti before the war.
*
Anyone who has seen my bunker would agree it’s no ordinary place.
While it’s not on the level of Chairman Park Cheol-joo’s fortress, I built the best stronghold an average person could manage on their own.
The first obstacle in constructing it was my lack of skills and experience. But as ti went on, money beca the biggest hurdle.
Caught up in a frenzy of spending—buying this and that—I eventually ran out of funds.
They say that hardship can erode one’s conscience.
I thought I was different, but I wasn’t.
I took out loans.
To be honest, calling it a scam wouldn’t be far off.
From the mont I borrowed the money, I had no intention of paying it back.
Of course, I wasn’t always so bold.
I had a ntor for this.
a_few_good_man: How to Build a Bunker with Other People’s Money (Part 1)
a_few_good_man was an active user before the war. I haven’t seen him since, so he’s probably dead now.
That friend—likely in hell by now—inspired .
a_few_good_man: When war breaks out, everything ends. Why not borrow money? You won’t have to pay it back.
Desperate for funds, I followed a_few_good_man, liking his posts and learning the secrets of becoming a bad debtor.
My efforts paid off.
I received a ssage from a_few_good_man: Start with those around you—friends, relatives, parents, siblings. Anyone will do. They say 90% of scamrs target people they know.
When I told him I had no family to borrow from, he gave his ssenger ID, and we started chatting in real ti.
a_few_good_man: You’re unemployed, right?
SKELTON: Yes, that’s correct.
a_few_good_man: First, get a job. No one lends money to the unemployed. You need to start paying for insurance—it’s essential for getting past the paperwork.
Following his advice, I found a job before borrowing money.
The job was at a small company whose CEO couldn’t even explain what the business actually did. I worked in a warehouse near my hideout, doing tasks like wrapping goods, operating forklifts, and loading and unloading cargo.
Throughout my employnt, I never figured out the company’s purpose.
Finding the job wasn’t difficult. I was in my mid-to-late twenties at the ti, physically healthy, had no criminal record, and could operate a forklift.
My youthful and tidy appearance might have been a bonus.
Though the pay was ager, and the work schedule was a relentless “Monday through Sunday,” I wasn’t in a position to complain. After all, my morals were just as twisted as the CEO’s.
While working, I discreetly took ho industrial-strength wrap—a durable, stretchable material perfect for securely packaging large cargo. It seed like it might co in handy for the future.
“What are you planning to do with that?” my supervisor, Chief Cho, asked curiously.
I didn’t bother to answer.
After three months at this “family-like” company, I revealed my true colors.
I maxed out my loans.
First, I took out credit and personal loans. During each application, there was a standard question the loan officers asked:
“Your registered address is in Busan, but your workplace is in Gyeonggi-do. Where do you actually live?”
Among the few assets my late parents left was a small villa in the countryside. It was about 15 pyeong (approximately 49.5 square ters), located on sunny land with a view of a nearby nuclear power plant. Picturesque, except the surrounding empty lots made it a hard-to-sell property.
When I tried to liquidate all my assets, this villa was the one thing I couldn’t get rid of.
But even worthless junk has its uses.
I registered the villa as my official address and listed it as my residence on the loan docunts without batting an eye.
“I live in Gijang-gun, Busan. I’m just temporarily dispatched here,” I explained.
Even after taking out the loans, I kept working diligently at the company.
The CEO, a man in his early forties who rarely showed up to work, gave a pat on the shoulder one day.
“Assistant Manager Park, you’re doing great. Right now, our company’s small, so we can’t offer much. But there’s a big project in the works. Once that hits, it’s ga over for us—in a good way.”
“Ga over?”
“You know about stock options, right?”
“?”
“We’re going public on KOSDAQ. Just wait and see.”
“?!”
Public listing on KOSDAQ? This hole-in-the-wall business with no actual technology?
The next day, I stopped going to work—not because I was disappointed in the CEO’s pipe dream, but because I’d reached the limit of what I could borrow on my credit.
I even left a farewell note to delay my official resignation.
I’m sorry. I can’t explain the circumstances right now, but I’ll return once things are resolved. Yours truly, Park Gyu, shedding tears as I write this.
The company, however, wasn’t so easily fooled.
They processed my resignation the next day.
The group chat’s atmosphere turned icy.
CEO_Hoseop: That bastard Park Gyu probably cried crocodile tears as he wrote it.
Reading that, I quickly exited the group chat.
Though their quick response was unexpected, my plan went smoothly overall.
The first step was to repay the principal on the loans for three months.
Why three months?
According to a_few_good_man, skipping the first paynt could result in fraud charges. However, paying at least three installnts could avoid that.
After the third month, I stopped paying.
Loan collectors started calling.
At first, the calls ca as polite texts, followed by smooth-voiced representatives from call centers asking when I would repay.
“I’ll repay soon. I’ve got so money coming in,” I would reply.
Of course, the bank didn’t buy it.
The day after my third missed paynt, they exercised their mortgage rights on my villa.
It went to auction.
This was all within expectations.
The key was what ca next.
According to a_few_good_man, maintaining close communication with loan officers was crucial. Most chronic debtors are flat broke, and creditors know that legal action against such people rarely recovers the principal.
So, I answered every call diligently.
“I’m truly sorry! I promise I’ll repay it soon. I’ve hurt my back doing manual labor, but as soon as I recover, I’ll pay everything!”
Eventually, the debt was transferred to a collection agency.
The polite calls were replaced with gruff voices.
“Sir, you live in Busan, right? Every ti we visit your house, you’re not there.”
“Ah, I’m so sorry. I’ve been working 23 hours a day to repay my loans. It’s been... exhausting.”
We arranged a eting.
Though I prepared a slew of excuses, they didn’t buy any of it.
“This week, pay three months’ worth. Not one month—three months.”
“What happens if I don’t?”
“There’ll be a lawsuit.”
“Please, no lawsuit! My family would be devastated.”
“Your family records show you’re single.”
“I have a common-law wife and two adorable kids!”
“This week. No excuses.”
Naturally, I didn’t pay a di.
A few days later, I received a court order in the mail.
Seeing an official docunt from the court for the first ti rattled , so I turned to a_few_good_man for advice.
a_few_good_man: They sent that because you’ve been responsive and seem to be living at your registered address. Just let it sit for a while.
He was at Kangwon Land (a casino) when he replied.
a_few_good_man: If your goal is to buy ti, you can drag this out for another three months.
SKELTON: (shocked) Really?!
a_few_good_man: The court order isn’t finalized until two weeks after you receive the official copy. Let it sit until the last mont, then...
Clearly with ti to kill, he gave a lot of detailed advice.
Thanks to a_few_good_man, I survived that difficult period.
Almost three years later, I shared the full story on the forum.
SKELTON: (Skeleton’s Confession) I borrowed money from the start with no intention of paying it back—and I never did.
I described my interactions with a_few_good_man, the battle of avoiding repaynt, and the whole ordeal.
Honestly, I thought it was a harmless little prank.
I didn’t kill anyone, rape anyone, or commit any atrocity worthy of news headlines.
But...
Anonymous458: Wow...
“Huh?”
Why is the reaction like this?
Anonymous848: You’re a real piece of work...
Dies_irae69: It’s been ages since I’ve seen a_few_good_man ntioned.
Foxgas: This is too much.
gijayangban: ?
Defender: Disappointing.
unicorn18: Nuna...?!
ㅇㅇ: Human trash.
“...”
What was I even doing?
Only then did I pick up the K-walkie-talkie and finally carry out what I was supposed to do earlier.
Personal Identification Number: REDMASK.
I contacted Woo Min-hee.
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