Hiding a House in the Apocalypse-Chapter 158.2: Hive (2)

Hiding a House in the Apocalypse-Chapter 158.2: Hive (2)

“What should we do?”
The pilots asked.
“Let’s at least try to make contact.”
We might not get along, but we’re still both citizens of the Republic of Korea.
We’re not here for some grand treasure—just responding to a distress signal.
I doubt their situation is any different from ours.
Sure enough—
Chzzzz—
They initiated contact first.
“Hello?”
I looked toward the helipad.
At least two soldiers were pointing Stinger missiles our way.
It didn’t feel like they were threatening to shoot us down—more like a precaution. As if to say they couldn’t lift off for some reason, but if things went south, they were ready to return fire.
I left the matter to the soldiers in the cockpit.
Soon, both sides confirmed each other’s identities.
As expected, they were troops from Jeju.
They, like us, had been dispatched after receiving the rescue signal.
“There’s nothing good that comes from getting tangled up with them. If they tell us to leave, we should.”
A typically grumbling opinion from °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° Yuseongju—but this time, I fully agreed.
If the Jeju side wanted to flex territorial dominance, the smart move was to back off.
No reason to bother engaging.
But then—
“We’re actually short on people. If you don’t mind, could you lend a hand?”
The voice shifted from a dry male tone to a bright, energetic female one.
Even at a glance, it was the voice of a young woman.
“Excuse me, but who’s the person in charge over there?”
She asked.
All the soldiers who had stayed dead silent in the helicopter turned to look at me.
Well, whether they said it or not, I guess they were acknowledging me as the leader here.
I spoke into the mic.
“This is Park Gyu.”
“Park Gyu?!”
“?”
“Professor?!”
“I’m Nam Sang-hee. I’m heading the task force investigating the Lighthouse disappearance.”
A woman whose appearance screamed, I’m a capable career woman—an appropriately messy outfit, tousled hair, her eyes fixed on a tablet she operated with flashy, excessive gestures, her words occasionally shallow but offset by expensive-looking accessories and a luxury watch.
Like many in Jeju’s upper echelon, she looked to be in her mid-twenties. Though she didn’t say so outright, the fact that others called her “Commissioner” made it obvious.
As she introduced herself, she explained that she had come to this facility—called the Hive, or “beoljip” in their words—to search for traces of Awakened and key personnel.
Apparently, the topic had been a constant source of controversy even within Jeju.
Woo Min-hee had been investigating it all along, but few placed real trust in her findings.
Then, when the Jeju faction gained footholds in Ganghwa Island and Incheon Port, an SOS signal emerged. That’s when Jeju dispatched a proper, full-scale investigation team.
But once they began exploring the Hive, they found the structure too complex, with high-level erosion already in progress, and an overwhelming number of monsters making the investigation difficult.
“There are so many capsules. It really is like a beehive.”
After a moment’s thought, I decided to join forces with Nam Sang-hee.
“Is there a need to team up with them when there aren’t even any survivors?”
Yuseongju again voiced his doubts about the existence of survivors—but that wasn’t my objective.
Sure, finding survivors would be good, but I didn’t expect any after nearly a year of lost contact.
My purpose here was to understand how this facility had been destroyed.
And in that regard, Nam Sang-hee clearly held more information than I did.
“Before communication was lost, we notified Jeong Ho-kyung of the Lighthouse’s shutdown. The Regular Awakened were being consumed faster than expected, and to put it bluntly, we were at the point of pulling in anyone we could—dog or pig.”
The soldier standing beside Nam Sang-hee, wearing a military uniform, grinned and added,
“Same with the army, right? Back in the day, guys who wouldn’t even qualify for rear duty were getting drafted into active service.”
I asked Nam Sang-hee,
“How did Jeong Ho-kyung react?”
I vaguely remembered the man.
He had that typical Jeju air of superiority, but at his core, he wasn’t a bad person.
There was a boyish sincerity to him, and a genuine desire to pursue his vision.
He overacted often, sure—but he wasn’t completely unreasonable.
“Want to hear it?”
Nam Sang-hee waved her phone.
I nodded.
She scrolled through it and then played an audio file—Jeong Ho-kyung’s voice, now barely remembered, echoed.
“Don’t do this. You know this is my whole life's work, right? I already gave up everything before I left. And now you’re doing this? If you keep pushing like this...”
There was no mistaking it.
That was Jeong Ho-kyung’s voice.
The man who had finally, in the end, acknowledged me as a Hunter.
“I’ll blow it all up.”
His last words held the desperation and resignation of someone pushed to the brink.
I looked at Nam Sang-hee.
“So you’re saying Jeong Ho-kyung destroyed this facility?”
She didn’t hesitate even a second before nodding.
“Ninety-nine percent certain.”
I don’t know.
I remembered how seriously Jeong Ho-kyung felt about those kids.
No matter how bad things got, I couldn’t imagine that overly theatrical guy suddenly flipping on his beliefs like that.
Nam Sang-hee tapped on her tablet and said,
“The problem is the method.”
To be honest, this part made my interest wane quickly.
What I’d hoped for when coming here was either some new monster we hadn’t seen yet, or perhaps insight into the strategic patterns of the General-type enemy we were soon to face.
The internal collapse theory didn’t interest me—and having seen Jeong Ho-kyung’s humanity with my own eyes, it didn’t feel persuasive.
“What’s your take, Captain Yu?”
As much as it might make me look bad, I decided to use Yuseongju’s help for now.
The guy had been whining the whole helicopter ride anyway.
Might as well let him share the blame if things went wrong.
But one thing I’ve learned with age—an asshole stays an asshole from beginning to end.
“Of course we should dig deeper!”
Yuseongju’s eyes suddenly lit up with zeal.
“...What?”
I stared in disbelief, but he, oblivious, kept on talking nonsense.
“I knew it. That guy was scheming something. Never liked him from the start. Always had this subtle way of looking down on people. I really want to know how that bastard killed all those poor kids and soldiers.”
And just like that, the investigation began in earnest.
It was true that Yuseongju had led ten expeditions here.
He knew the layout better than I did, and knew how to avoid both capsules and monster-infested zones.
The first stop was the communications room.
Through a large satellite antenna installed on the upper levels of the Hive, it could reach Jeju and other government remnants across the peninsula.
It was clean.
No signs of explosions or gunfire.
A dried coffee mug, black rings left behind from long-evaporated contents, sat forgotten in the corner of a table—probably left by the last person on duty.
“Was it always like this?”
Nam Sang-hee asked Yuseongju.
He nodded.
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Just a moment.”
She fiddled with the communication panel—but it didn’t power on.
The power system had long since failed due to disuse.
But Nam Sang-hee, clearly someone who’d come prepared, didn’t panic. She sent someone to fetch a portable generator. Soon, the loud whirring of its turbine filled the space as she booted up the panel again.
“Just as I thought.”
She turned to us.
“Someone intentionally cut off communications.”
“Then how did the distress signal get sent?”
She replied,
“There was a thunderstorm two days ago. One bolt hit the dead communications rig and caused a sort of spinal reflex. With the power dead for so long, the sudden surge probably triggered a preset emergency protocol, and the distress signal was sent.”
That’s when I noticed a strange flicker in her expression.
“Let’s keep going, Captain Yu.”
For reasons I couldn’t understand, Nam Sang-hee seemed to be enjoying this eerie investigation—there was a thrill in her that I couldn’t share.
Next, we headed to where the bodies had been found.
It was a place I knew well.
Moran-dong.
The residential sector where the kids lived.
The mummified children lay inside the cafeteria, hands folded neatly, spaced evenly apart.
I averted my gaze from the maggot trails smeared across the floor and stepped back outside.
I chose not to think too deeply.
Inside, I could hear Nam Sang-hee and Yuseongju talking.
“Were they like this when you first found them?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Captain Kim? Could you come over? Just a quick examination. Let’s at least determine the cause of death.”
Real missions aren’t like the movies—there’s not constant tension or excitement.
Most of the time, it’s just long stretches of boredom and an internal battle against yourself.
The dynamic, life-risking moments make up only a fleeting fraction.
Though, it’s true that most casualties happen during those fleeting moments.
The postmortem took over two hours.
Smelling of corpses, Nam Sang-hee and Yuseongju finally emerged from the cafeteria.
“They were poisoned.”
Yuseongju ed.
“Poison?”
“Yes. Someone poisoned the kids. That’s why even the Awakened children couldn’t resist—they just died.”
Next to him, Captain Kim, the military doctor from Nam Sang-hee’s team, added,
“Though it doesn’t look like they were forced to take it.”
I had more questions—but I didn’t ask them.
All I wanted now was to get out of here as quickly as possible.
For Nam Sang-hee, conflict and destruction between humans may be fascinating, but to me, it was a worn-out, boring theme.
“The biggest mystery remains, though.”
We moved to the adult sector—where the soldiers, engineers, and mess personnel had lived.
I didn’t know this part well.
Back when I stayed in the Hive, I rarely saw them, let alone interacted.
There were signs of battle.
No bodies, but dark, dried stains—likely blood—clung to the walls like flaking paint. Shattered fragments and bullet holes were scattered all over.
“How were they subdued?”
Perhaps realizing I had no interest, Nam Sang-hee directed her question only to Yuseongju.
Being a bystander didn’t feel so bad.
In this environment, I didn’t feel like stepping forward—and not drawing attention made it easier to freely observe.
“....”
Something felt off.
I didn’t know what exactly.
I’d fought in a few Awakened vs. human battles, but I’d rarely analyzed them in detail.
As I was mulling it over, Yuseongju spoke.
“Didn’t Jeong Ho-kyung lead some of his Awakened and overwhelm them? You know how little soldiers can do in front of Awakened.”
It was plausible.
Jeong Ho-kyung hadn’t treated all the kids equally, but he had a few he could’ve called his personal guard.
If he bore a grudge against Jeju, manipulating and deceiving the children wouldn’t have been difficult.
“So you’re saying Commissioner Jeong Ho-kyung led loyal Awakened, ambushed this place, and wiped out the military personnel?”
“Yes, ma’am. You may not know this, Commissioner, but back when I was stationed here, we had a separate line of communication from Jeong Ho-kyung.”
I had my suspicions already, but this confirmed it—Yuseongju and his team had once served here.
His familiarity with the layout wasn’t just from ten recon missions.
That also explained his grudge against Jeong Ho-kyung.
I knew from experience—Jeong Ho-kyung wasn’t the type to win people over easily.
Now the investigation was nearing its conclusion.
“This Lighthouse project was tied to Jeong Ho-kyung’s political fate. With it collapsing, and all signs pointing to ruin, he probably made a desperate, extreme choice—what we’re now seeing as the outcome.”
Nam Sang-hee delivered a summary briefing to the gathered soldiers and agents.
Afterwards, she asked Yuseongju,
“Final question: where’s Jeong Ho-kyung?”
Even Yuseongju hesitated.
A flicker of fear passed over his eyes.
Slowly, he walked over and whispered to me.
“S-Sir. I’d like you to lead the way to that place...”
The man who had been so confident was now trembling as if struck by a spasm.
I figured there would be something shocking.
Jeong Ho-kyung’s body was in a lead-lined room.
The same room where I’d once found the memento of the boy who followed me.
The room was pitch dark.
His corpse lay neatly on the floor, mummified—just like the children in the cafeteria.
Someone might ask—
Why was such a veteran like Yuseongju terrified of a room with just one corpse?
The answer became clear once we turned on a bit more light.
Monsters.
Dozens—no, an entire room filled with monsters, perfectly still, silently resting in place.
“...Fuck.”
Nam Sang-hee swore for the first time.
That didn’t matter to me.
The story was already over.
What I was focused on was what lay obscured behind Jeong Ho-kyung and the monsters.
The marks of a battle etched into the walls.
Something I hadn’t seen on my last visit.
There were old bullet scars from the North Korean era, but nothing like this—nothing so desperate and intense.
And those signs led from the adult sector... all the way to the lead-lined room.
“Jeong Ho-kyung likely took his own life alongside the children. It was his final protest against our decision.”
While Nam Sang-hee offered her conclusion in front of the camera, I inspected the battle damage left behind.
A massive scar stretched along one wall leading into the lead-lined room.
Not just bullet holes—anti-tank weapons, even Hunter-class gear had been used.
There are many types of battles.
Overwhelming offense, balanced skirmishes, probing attacks.
If my intuition was right, this had been a desperate resistance.
Look at the makeshift defenses everyone mocked.
Even if the Awakened were powerful, would they have resisted so fiercely against just children?
“...”
I turned toward the direction from which the bullets came.
There was nothing.
No reflection field marks.
Then who had they fought so desperately against?
As I wandered near the lead-lined room, a soldier ed finding a radio.
They’d located various electronics, including K-WalkieTalkies, in the repair room.
“Jeong Ho-kyung probably confiscated them all. To cut off external contact.”
I examined one of the walkie-talkies.
“Hey.”
I had something to say.
But when I saw Nam Sang-hee’s exhausted face, I changed my mind.
“Looks like the investigation’s wrapped up. We’ll take our leave.”
“Suit yourself.”
She said coldly, with a frosty gaze.
We left in a hurry.
“Things were going well. Was there any need to rush off like that?”
Yuseongju seemed disappointed—probably glad he’d made a connection with Nam Sang-hee.
I showed him the disassembled walkie-talkie’s circuit board.
“Hmm? What’s this?”
He didn’t seem to understand.
I didn’t bother explaining.
The circuit was charred black.
Like how monsters roast drones in midair.
Maybe I was overthinking things—but let’s reconstruct the events.
Jeong Ho-kyung clashed with the Jeju government. That’s a fact.
He threatened to self-destruct. Also a fact.
What mattered was what happened afterward.
Multiple radios broke down at once.
Communications were severed.
Then monsters appeared.
Perhaps a type that didn’t generate reflection fields.
Those left behind fought bravely and died.
Jeong Ho-kyung entered the lead room with the children.
That was my understanding of the incident.
Three days later, news came that contact with Nam Sang-hee had been lost.

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Chapter 158.2: Hive (2)