Hiding a House in the Apocalypse-Chapter 157.2: Team (2)
I’ve never once considered myself a discriminator.
Some people used to badmouth me, saying I looked down on Chinese people because I never spoke the language or tried to learn it. But even in the extremity of war, I never once blamed China.
The same goes for school-trained and academy-trained hunters.
Generally speaking, academy hunters were inferior to those from schools, but occasionally, there were a few academy hunters who outperformed school hunters.
I treated them with the same respect. No differently.
But as always—there are exceptions.
Fanatics.
I intentionally excluded them from the circle of tolerance.
Not just because they were dangerous—but because they had willingly abandoned their humanity. I couldn’t afford to lose allies because of hesitation or misplaced compassion.
So I never imagined the day would come when I’d be having a candid conversation with a fanatic.
I guess that’s what time does. Personal will can’t stand up to it.
In the end, a fanatic appeared before me.
“Former” might be the appropriate label—but to someone like me, that distinction holds no real weight.
We know people don’t really change. And we also know that those who’ve crossed a line once can cross it again far more easily than those who haven’t.
So my stance was naturally defensive.
“So what is it? What do you want to say?”
Even before, I’d noticed that Ham Chun-ok had a fondness for flair.
When I rescued her, she left a vivid impression—wearing what must have been luxury brand padding and nails painted in every color imaginable. Now, she had gone even further—ears weighed down with gaudy ornaments.
I won’t even try to describe her clothes or accessories. My fashion literacy isn’t up to the task.
“There are some Talja in your group, right?”
Her Seoul dialect was softer now.
Talja—one of the many words fanatics used for Awakened.
Just like how we use terms like Awakening, Enlightenment, Metamorphosis—they had their own colorful vocabulary.
Apparently, in her sect, Awakened were called Talja.
I nodded.
“They’re Awakened.”
Of course, I made a point of purging the fanatical terminology.
Ham Chun-ok looked puzzled and gently tapped her lips with her finger.
“Why do your people like American—no, English—so much?”
“It’s the international standard.”
“People from the South, especially older ones, mix in so much English. It’s suspicious.”
“Some do, sure.”
Not really important.
What mattered was what this woman intended.
I waited for her to speak again.
“Awakened.”
She used our term this time.
“Awakened, these days, how should I put it...”
“?”
“Ah! They’re trembling, aren’t they?”
I nodded.
At the same time, something I’d known but not truly registered suddenly jolted through my brain like a new insight.
Right. This one was an Awakened too.
And not just any Awakened—a highly gifted Regular Awakened. Rumored to be a candidate for second awakening.
Yet despite her abilities, Ham Chun-ok didn’t show the same deterioration the others had.
If anything, her over-the-top fashion and ornaments suggested she was handling things with strange ease.
“You seem fine, though.”
I asked her.
She rolled her eyes, then turned her head in their direction.
Probably northwest.
“Jijang Messenger is nearby.”
Jijang Messenger.
If I’m remembering correctly, that’s what fanatics call the General-type.
The fanatics we captured after that battle had all ranted deliriously, showing signs of seizures and trauma, repeating this strange made-up term.
A fusion of Jijang Bosal (Kṣitigarbha Bodhisattva) and messenger—likely referring to the monsters.
Clearly, the General-type held special status even among fanatics.
“So?”
I asked, a curiosity stronger than my distrust swelling within me.
“Jijang Messenger leads Talja to paradise. Just their presence makes us shrink and cower. Some lose their minds.”
“You’re Talja too, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
She nodded.
“So how are you fine?”
A faint smile tugged at her lips.
“You just ignore it.”
“Ignore it?”
“Yes.”
She gently patted her stomach.
That gesture probably symbolized something important inside her.
“In the Republic, they said the General would create a powerful nation and feed the people. The Church said the Grand Minister’s words were absolute truth and would lead us to paradise. But really, isn’t what matters most... ourselves?”
“...That’s true.”
“Jijang Messenger constantly poses questions. They’re always ‘right.’ No matter how you think about them, they always make sense. We don’t understand the meaning—but it always fits.”
Ahn Seung-hwan said something similar.
He called it an endlessly aligning sun.
A divine blessing I’d never understand.
Still, I think I’m beginning to get it.
“Is that what you’d call providence?”
I shook my head.
“I don’t think ‘providence’ is the right word for a trick like that.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
She stroked her belly again.
Her eyes had that distant color that only those who have seen and endured too much can possess.
“There’s something I must protect.”
“...”
She looked me straight in the eye.
I’d never really looked into a fanatic’s eyes before.
There are things in the world better left unknown—and I thought their minds were one of them.
But her eyes weren’t strange.
They glowed faintly—but otherwise, they looked no different from any average person’s.
“The Church teaches that if you want to resist being taken by the Jijang Messenger, you should have a child.”
Not the child itself, probably.
More like the heaviest weight one can carry in life—something to anchor the soul.
I looked at her and spoke.
“They’re telling you to create something precious.”
“Yes.”
She nodded.
“So, in the end, it comes down to personal will.”
A common answer—but the hardest one.
I was about to end the conversation, a little disappointed.
A government official I recognized was watching us from the corridor.
“Ah.”
As I gestured to excuse myself, Ham Chun-ok spoke again.
“Is something wrong?”
“No. I just heard the Jijang Messenger’s voice again.”
I exhaled and strained to listen.
I heard nothing.
“But, you know. There’s something about this city.”
“Something?”
“Yes. I don’t know what, but something’s surrounding it. Feels like the voice—but not quite...”
I gestured to the government official, asking for understanding.
Something told me this might be important.
“You know neutralization? When two opposing substances react and cancel each other out, forming something entirely new.”
“That sounds about right.”
“It feels like the voice is being neutralized here. I’ve felt it for a while—but recently, in the center of this city, it’s gotten stronger. Like something is dulling the influence of the voice.”
She pulled something from her coat.
A phone.
An expensive model, if I wasn’t mistaken—pre-war.
Its screen was cracked, but the case was girlish and cute.
She gave it a slight wave.
“This phone. I feel it from here.”
“From the phone?”
“Yes. Not mine, but someone else’s. I could feel something—something like the voice, but... different.”
I fell silent, thinking.
One word came to mind.
Necropolis.
Was she talking about the voices of the dead—like Deadman_Working and Ballantine had opened the door to?
Come to think of it, the spread of Necropolis had prompted many theories among Awakened.
Some believed its signal was connected to the voice beyond the rift.
But what Ham Chun-ok was talking about... was something else entirely.
“Hold on.”
I asked for her phone.
“What?”
“Can I borrow it for a second?”
“I haven’t even gotten the number yet...”
“Do you know what Necropolis is?”
“No.”
Figures. Tech illiterate.
I’d guessed as much from her Viva! Apocalypse! posts.
From the mess of icons on the background photo of her and her boyfriend, I found the browser.
Typed in the address.
And:
[To F. Sawyer, M. O’Connor, Byeong-seon K, and the beloved red one—]
[Welcome to the Clamorous City of Death.]
The Necropolis gate opened.
“What are you doing?”
“Wait a sec.”
I typed a random post.
Dead43821(KOR): Anyone here know Viva! Apocalypse! legend SKELTON?
It was pure stream of consciousness.
After uploading, I glanced at her.
“Oh?”
She looked surprised and met my eyes.
“What did you just do?”
So Necropolis does have a special power.
I typed again.
Dead43821(KOR): Saw SKELTON in person once. Super handsome...
And again.
Dead43821(KOR): Looks kinda like Cha Un-woo...
“What are you doing?”
She tried to peek. I quickly tilted the screen away and asked seriously:
“What did you feel just now?”
“Hungry?”
“Not that. From the phone.”
“Oh, that.”
She paused, then answered.
“It felt like something was coming out. Kind of like the voice, but... instead of forcing understanding like the Jijang Messenger, it made sense naturally. Like truth.”
“Really?”
My heart began to pound.
Yeah.
This was it.
My reputation as “Professor” wasn’t built just on battlefield results.
There were always better fighters than me.
One Chinese hunter, declared KIA, was nearly indistinguishable from the martial legends their people called “warriors.”
What set Park Gyu apart was his discoveries.
I’d made so many—and connected them to humanity’s survival.
That journey might have ended when I retired, but now and then, new discoveries still came.
And this one—this was something else entirely.
“...Necropolis.”
Maybe we were finally standing at the gate of a true solution against the rift.
Even if it ended in defeat—better to go down fighting than lose doing nothing.
I should discuss this with Woo Min-hee.
“Hey.”
Just as I turned to leave, Ham Chun-ok called out.
“What is it?”
The word “fanatic” had long since vanished from my mind.
“I’ve been wondering something.”
Her expression—
“...Captain.”
Strangely clingy.
That look—the one women give when they’ve approached me in the past.
I had to shut it down.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t get involved with women who already have boyfriends.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
She suddenly frowned.
“Why do you write that kind of crap online?”
“...What?”
“Your weird posts. Bitbox, whatever. Stuff no one reads—why do you write it?”
“Wait, what?”
“SKELTON. That’s your username, isn’t it?”
“...It is.”
It would be ridiculous to deny it now.
“You always click on the racy posts and leave creepy comments.”
“...?”
“Trying to act ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) innocent but posting like a lecherous party official peeking through the curtains.”
I checked the time.
“We’ll talk later.”
“You seem decent in real life—but the internet reflects the real world. Shouldn’t you be decent there too?”
I fled.
“Captain.”
She called from behind.
I didn’t answer, just turned slightly.
“If you need us—call. I know it’s hard to believe. But we’ll help if we can.”
I nodded with a faint smile.
Unfortunately, Woo Min-hee was away on Ganghwa Island.
I left a message with her assistant.
No new updates from the front.
Regular Awakened still mental fatigue, but the enemy isn’t making immediate moves.
Back at my lodging, several messages waited for me.
One caught my eye.
CrunchRoll: SKELTON, you there?
It was from King.
Followed by a few more.
CrunchRoll: I think I was a bit harsh earlier.
CrunchRoll: Then I realized—if Seoul falls, we’re next. Things are bad here too, but if there’s anything we can do, we’ll help.
CrunchRoll: And I’ll try contacting that guy, too.
Then my phone rang.
Kim Byeong-cheol.
“Hunter Park Gyu. While you were gone, someone named Park Penguin contacted us. He’s the refugee leader in Incheon, right?”
Kim Byeong-cheol filled me in.
Park Penguin was offering to help.
Not only that—
Kim Byeong-cheol proudly bragged that his “Legionist juniors” might be willing to support Seoul if it came to that. He was so excited he nearly spat in my face.
“Yes, sir. You get some rest too.”
To be cautious, those promises probably won’t hold.
In these times, there are far fewer resources than good intentions.
We’re no longer in a world where you can just click a button to send a donation.
Still—
“...”
I leaned back, lacing my hands behind my head.
It’s a smaller world now.
A city of ten million barely holds one million today.
In an age where people are scarce—fighting, hating, and dividing seems foolish.
Maybe it’s too optimistic. Maybe my head’s full of flowers.
But I’d like to believe the last of humanity can be a team.
Before the day comes when there aren’t enough people left to make one.
Chapter 157.2: Team (2)
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