Hiding a House in the Apocalypse-Chapter 177.3: Worship (3)

Hiding a House in the Apocalypse-Chapter 177.3: Worship (3)

After the battle with the Nemesis-type, I stepped down from all my posts and have been in a semi-retired state. But that doesn’t mean I’ve been spending my time doing nothing.
All of my attention is now focused on Kang Han-min.
I’ve been trying to gather information about this man—someone I know all too well and yet not at all—through reliable channels and trustworthy people.
Na Hye-won is the person who’s watched Kang Han-min from closest range since she became Awakened.
But the distance between them, unlike what it might seem from the outside, was separated by an unbridgeable gap.
In fact, Na Hye-won knew even less about Kang Han-min than I did.
Still, she had kept an eye on the changes around him—the environmental shifts that occurred during the Jeju period.
Her statements didn’t unfold like a film reel of pre-planned memories. Rather, it was more like a web search; I had to insert the keywords into her head for the memories to surface.
There was no helping it.
Na Hye-won might appear intact on the outside, but as I saw back on Jeju, her mind was broken deep inside.
She was extremely passive.
“I met with Kang Han-min once before. How should I put it... I got the feeling people are starting to deify him.”
That’s why I had to prepare a specific topic, a direction, whenever speaking to her.
“Deify him?”
Na Hye-won stared blankly into space at the unfamiliar word, then slowly nodded once she recalled its meaning—her head swaying gently like the flowers she grew trembling in the breeze.
“Yes. At some point, he was deified.”
This topic seemed to overlap with thoughts she’d already had.
If I had brought up anything else, I would have only heard responses like “I don’t remember,” or “I’m not sure.”
“I don’t know the details. But after he awakened, that person completely changed. Not in the sense that he became arrogant or cocky. It was just... One day, I looked at him, and it felt like someone entirely different was standing in his place.”
Na Hye-won curled into herself slightly as she added,
“It makes me uncomfortable. Just imagining it.”
But unlike Na Hye-won, many others around Kang Han-min became his worshippers.
I already know the general reason.
“...The talk about how being near Kang Han-min would stop you from being pulled into the Rift—that played a big role. From freshly Awakened kids to those who’d gone into Big Hole multiple times, they were all repeating the same story.”
Na Hye-won looked directly at me.
“But Kang Han-min himself has never said anything like that. He’s never even hinted at it. And yet that rumor spread all over Jeju, and people started competing to be near him.”
That’s as far as she knew.
She had no idea how large Kang Han-min’s organization was, what kind of authority it wielded, or what they were planning.
The Rift had stolen her passion and strength.
Before I left, I looked at Na Hye-won.
She saw me off with a faint, tired smile.
“...”
Maybe it was that look in her eyes that contributed to Woo Min-hee’s fear.
Fortunately, another over-level-10 Awakened, Jeon Si-hoon, was still maintaining his sanity—at least for now.
“Hey. Commander Park Gyu. Not sure if you realize, but there are a lot of people out there who don’t like us meeting. Not that they can do shit even if they know.”
Meeting with Jeon Si-hoon required a lot more effort than meeting Na Hye-won.
If Na Hye-won had been discarded like a toothless tiger, Jeon Si-hoon was still a powerful pillar of Kang Han-min’s system.
But he, too, bore the stains of the Rift.
“Mind if I speak frankly?”
The Jeon Si-hoon I remembered had once been a Kang Han-min fanboy.
He’d turned down a proposal from the King to rule a city—no, an entire kingdom—and headed to Jeju out of admiration for Kang Han-min.
Ironically, it was on Jeju that he lost all respect for Kang Han-min.
And what filled that empty space...
“The more I get to know him, the more I hate that guy. Seriously. I hate him so much. If I’d known it’d turn out like this, I’d have stayed in Sejong, lived like a king, eaten all the good food, and hooked up with every hot chick I wanted. What the hell am I even doing, getting played by that inhuman freak...”
It’s not unusual for someone who once admired a hero to become disillusioned.
But in Jeon Si-hoon’s case, it wasn’t just disillusionment—it had turned into outright contempt.
“What exactly made you hate him that much?”
Without a moment of hesitation, Jeon Si-hoon answered.
“Everything.”
His emotions might be clouding his vision, but listening to what followed, it was clear that his disappointment stemmed from Kang Han-min’s constant ambiguity and vagueness.
“No one knows what he’s thinking. He doesn’t talk to anyone. Doesn’t initiate any conversations. He just stays in that weird room, surrounded by people who worship him like a holy relic, or he disappears into the Rift. Even when you talk to him, he doesn’t respond.”
It was likely that final point—being ignored when spoken to—that fueled Jeon Si-hoon’s hostility.
Admiration often morphs into intense animosity.
“You’re saying he doesn’t talk to anyone?”
“Oh, he talks to his girlfriend or whatever. At least when he needs something.”
“Girlfriend?”
“You know, that pretty one from before.”
Her name is Yoo Yang-seo.
“...She plays a kind of cult leader role. Leading the believers of Kang Han-min the savior.”
Of course. The faith in Kang Han-min the savior had already morphed into a religion.
Kang Han-min had become a god to some, an object of blind worship.
And the number of his worshippers continued to grow.
At first, it had been a voluntary gathering of Awakened trying to avoid the Call of the Rift—the sudden disappearances. But now, since moving from Jeju to Seoul, even regular civilians had fallen under his spell.
Back in Jeju, his influence was so significant that even the Committee couldn’t ignore it. But now that his base was in Seoul, even the Committee was forced to tread carefully.
“Jeong Dae-kyung, another over-level-10 Awakened, used to play the role of a counterweight to Kang Han-min. The Committee supported him too. But during the Rift collapse, he vanished. Everyone calls it an accident, but seriously—does it make sense for someone at that level to disappear without a trace?”
I never witnessed the rise of Manryu Gwijeonggyo—the cult we call the fanatics—but maybe I was now watching the birth of a new religious cult in real time.
And now I had met Yoo Yang-seo, the leader of this new religion that worships Kang Han-min.
“Hello?”
It all started because of a minor, personal project—an idea for a webtoon.
In a way, it worked out for the better.
Even if just like this, having contact with someone from Kang Han-min’s camp might help me understand that elusive friend just a little better.
“To be blunt, I don’t think we can proceed with the webtoon. It’s definitely a great concept, a powerful story, but it’s not appropriate right now for various reasons.”
What I saw before was correct.
This woman had pledged her soul to Kang Han-min.
I don’t know what turned her into his fanatic, but the way her gaze subtly diverged while looking at the same thing, her barely concealed excitement when speaking of him, the lack of logic, and—most of all—the ominous exaltation running through her speech made it clear.
She was the kind of zealot Defender despised.
“In what way is it inappropriate?”
You can’t reason with a zealot.
No logic works, no agreement is possible.
These kinds of fanatics already have their conclusion—they’re just trying to extract the answer they want or announce it to you like a divine decree.
I only bothered to engage because I wanted to peek deeper into her mind.
“How should I put this...”
Yoo Yang-seo paused to choose her words, then looked at me with those unnaturally clear eyes and cheerfully said,
“Skelton.”
“...”
“Skelton’s become a huge sensation online, you know?”
“Is that so?”
“Yes! You didn’t know? I thought you used to be really into the internet.”
“I used to be online about an hour a day. These days I mostly read or exercise.”
“But there haven’t been any book requests under your name.”
“I have tons of e-book files on my computer. Recently, I enjoyed Jared Diamond’s Guns, Germs, and Steel, and now I’m reading The Origin of Apples by Dr. Emiris.”
Yoo Yang-seo sighed in frustration, then managed her expression again and continued.
“Wow, so you read a lot.”
“...”
“Anyway, right now Commander Park Gyu is extremely popular—like idol-level popular online.”
“Is that really true?”
“Oh my god. You really don’t go online anymore. Everyone’s shouting Skelton this, Skelton that. There’s even a weird meme!”
“A meme?”
“Like, ‘Skelton, are you even the strongest at doing XYZ?!’”
“?”
“That kind of thing. Seriously, even little kids are running around saying Skelton this and that.”
Yoo Yang-seo stood up.
I could see some kind of resolve forming on her face.
“It’s great that you’re becoming famous, Skelton. But you’re just a regular guy, right? I mean, you’re not one of us Awakened.”
“Yes.”
“If someone like you—someone the people have pinned their hopes on—were to suddenly disappear, they’d lose that hope too.”
“I see.”
“And if you hog all the spotlight alone, what happens to the face of our efforts—our savior, Kang Han-min?”
This was probably the real reason she came.
They don’t want anyone outshining Kang Han-min.
“Kang Han-min the savior is currently devising a grand plan to defeat humanity’s enemy beyond the Rift. Unless you’ve been around him, you wouldn’t know the suffering and agony he’s enduring.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes! Kang Han-min is walking the path of salvation alone!”
For a brief moment, the whites of her eyes widened unnaturally.
What I read in that blankness was pure fanaticism.
“So what would you like me to do?”
“I’d like you to cancel the webtoon project.”
“Was this directly instructed by Kang Han-min himself?”
“No.”
That’s probably the point.
Kang Han-min does nothing.
But even if he does nothing, his worshippers won’t sit still.
“Kang Han-min the savior doesn’t involve himself in such trivial matters. Occasionally, he fiddles with the internet on his laptop. But imagine he logs on one ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) day and sees the name Skelton plastered everywhere. What do you think he’d feel?”
Just like that.
“Okay. I understand.”
I nodded.
Yoo Yang-seo looked at me with slight surprise.
She hadn’t expected me to give in so easily after all that noise in the office.
“Kang Han-min may be a savior now, but he was my schoolmate. We fought monsters in the same squad. I understand the kind of burden he carries.”
“Do you mean that?”
“I’m not attached to a single webtoon.”
I was speaking indirectly, but it was clear what they wanted.
They wouldn’t tolerate another idol rising beside Kang Han-min.
No matter what I said, they wouldn’t stop.
And really, there’s nothing more foolish than talking to a fanatic.
I had already learned what I wanted—and more.
“...”
Taptaptap
SKELTON: Do you like webtoons?
Back in the day, this would’ve been unimaginable.
Park Gyu, the guy who never even joined group chats, sending a friendly internet message—first.
After I sent the message, I waited.
Surprisingly, I didn’t have to wait long.
[ding~]
Message from Anonymous68: Webtoons?
Kang Han-min was still online, as expected.
He wasn’t as obsessed with the internet as before—when he’d waste entire days posting nonsense—but according to Yoo Yang-seo, that was his only remaining hobby.
SKELTON: I know a webtoon artist. They were thinking of making you the main character. What do you think?
Message from Anonymous68: Me, not you?!
SKELTON: I think it should be you.
I hope the internet becomes a channel for communication—not worship.
*
It had been quite some time since I last checked the Jeju intranet, so I’d missed a lot of updates there.
Mangja23134: Filkrum’s gone to shit. He was already starting to lose it two years before he left Jeju. Now he’s just phoning it in.
Anonymous2123: Is that really Filkrum? His art’s completely shot.
Mangja13212: ???
Anonymous458: Is this even the Filkrum I used to know?
Mangja9211: I think he doesn’t even like drawing comics anymore.
mmmmmmmmm: Anyone know where my badge went next to my nickname?
Umchang: Hm...
Mangja3921: He was drawing for nearly 20 years. If the war hadn’t broken out, he’d be living large off that money. It must be tough trying to start again now.
...
...
Filkrum’s decline was one of many.
“I’m sorry. Back when I was in Jeju, I overworked myself drawing that weird comic. My wrist feels like it’s being stabbed with a thousand needles. But what can I do? This is the only way I can make a living. So I grit my teeth and draw.”
Filkrum’s new series, The Savior, started out okay—but the art quality dropped fast, and the incomprehensible story structure made it tank in no time.
It couldn’t be helped.
“I know a doctor. Heo Jong-chul. Probably the best among the current crop. If you mention my name, you should be able to get an appointment.”
Everything was in decline—body, mind, skill, and even passion.
“Oh, senior.”
These days, Woo Min-hee’s face had brightened considerably. She raised one eyebrow and looked at me.
“You’ve got good instincts. Who knew skipping on Filkrum would snowball like this. I’m impressed.”
“More experience than instinct.”
“Experience.”
She repeated the word as if tasting it.
“What?”
I asked since she looked like she wanted to say something.
“Hey, senior.”
She stared at me and said,
“Wanna go on a trip together?”

Chapter 177.3: Worship (3)