“How about this version?”

Seven unveiled a new prototype.

It was a modified version of the U.S. military exoskeleton, tailored to my specifications.

Whirrr—

This equipment moved in sync with the user’s arm motions, powered by a hydraulic system to generate immense force—extending human limitations by a significant margin.

But there were still issues.

The sensors and electronic components designed to mirror the user's movements would glitch due to the monsters’ emitted waves—freezing mid-motion or misfiring, sometimes locking the user in place or, in the worst-case scenario, violently twisting their joints in the wrong direction.

I’d asked Seven to minimize the electronics as much as possible, but even so, the design still bore the heavy imprint of the advanced tech the U.S. military was so proud of.

“What if we just remove the sensors?”

“Then it’s going to be really stiff. Think of it like trying to move one of those gym machines with a few dozen kilos loaded onto it.”

We hunters always have to stay nimble.

Precision in a split-second shot is our core strength, so sacrificing mobility for brute power would mean giving up our greatest advantage.

“...We’ll have to think this part over more.”

Trial and error is unavoidable.

I’m walking a path no one else has taken—and likely no one else will.

Sure, China once glorified close-combat hunters, turning them into national heroes, but that was all propaganda.

In reality, China relentlessly pushed the development of cutting-edge weapons tailored to fighting monsters.

Of all the hunter weapons I’ve used, the Chu-ko-nu I got my hands on was the most advanced and devastating.

If the Chinese government had still been around, I’m sure there would’ve been an upgraded model by now—and if they’d been able to mass-produce those new weapons, China’s fate might’ve turned out differently.

People love to claim the last war was the direct cause of China’s downfall, but anyone who knows even a little can tell that’s nonsense.

China had already been rotting from the inside due to the Rifts long before the war even began. The war was just the death throes of a dying giant.

Well, yes—millions did die.

Hundreds of millions, actually, from nuclear attacks alone. And when the Three Gorges Dam collapsed, a similar number starved to death.

Then, with no strength left to resist, cities were overrun by monsters—and the lands devoid of people were swallowed by erosion.

That’s the abridged version of how China fell.

But that doesn’t mean every Chinese person disappeared.

As with Jiang Shuying’s case, there are still Shangri-las scattered throughout China. One of Woo Min-hee’s subordinate researchers even calculated that the combined area of those enclaves is larger than the entire South Korean peninsula.

And on an island called Hainan—which is bigger than both Gyeonggi and Chungcheong provinces put together—China’s most elite nobles live, surrounded by their attendants.

Even in Taiwan, a few people still cling to resistance in the mountain regions.

In any case, I plan to integrate the best technology from every known nation into this new weapon.

“Here’s footage of Hunter Jeon Si-hoon and his team annihilating a horde of monsters approaching Seoul this morning.”

The state-run TV broadcast, viewable via an old antenna, was once again showcasing the heroic feats of Jeon Si-hoon.

The resolution was so low, and the analog noise so heavy, it was impossible to tell what was happening on screen—but you could vaguely make out explosions and collapsing whitish structures.

“So that bastard’s aiming for a seat at the top, huh?”

Cheon Young-jae muttered while glancing up from his phone, eyes half-lidded with disinterest.

“What can you do.”

I’d nearly drawn my axe back then, but in hindsight, it felt like pointless meddling.

Whether he played king here or hosted some kind of palace cosplay, what did it matter to me?

I’m not a hero. I don’t want to be one.

I’m perfectly content being a myth-tier “named.”

Still, I guess I can help at least one struggling soul seriously.

“...”

Tap, tap, tap

[ 32 posts found under the username “Jjinsangchi” ]

Lately, there’s been an internet user I’ve been keeping an eye on.

*

A middle-aged man with a potbelly and patchy beard can be cuter than a radiant 18-year-old high school girl.

In real life, that’s absurd—but online, it’s absolutely possible.

Let’s imagine two fictional people: Pretty high school girl A, and potbellied, mid-30s man B.

A receives confessions from men at least once a month. Everyone—from her mom’s friends to random acquaintances—keeps telling her how pretty she is.

B walks down the street and not a single person glances at him. Even if he tries dressing up, it usually backfires and becomes another cringe memory.

No one around him mentions him. If they do, it’s in whispers, somewhere he can’t hear.

We like to say every human life has equal value, but in the grand play of life, not everyone shines with the same saturation.

A’s life probably glows like sunshine. B’s is likely as dim as the blackout curtains that permanently shroud his window.

But online, that saturation flips entirely.

And not in some mechanical, guaranteed way.

If A maintains the same bright attitude online as in real life, that’s a different story.

But A is likely to use social media tied closely to her glittering real life—fancy on the outside, but still shackled to reality.

That kind of sparkle isn’t truly “bright.”

Because that shine always drags along the shadow of real-life constraints like a twin.

B, on the other hand, hides his real self meticulously.

The less impressive he is, the stronger and more refined his smokescreen becomes.

He avoids sites that discuss real-life topics.

Might even lie about his age.

Going into sites filled with peers only confronts him with money, stocks, women, cars—all that depressing reality again.

So he gravitates to age-neutral spaces, maybe even places filled with younger users.

And there, he writes “cute posts.”

Not just baby talk, animal-like sentence endings, or overused anime character voices.

Even Hong Da-jeong, an internet expert, couldn’t define what makes a “cute post,” but from a professional’s eye, some shared traits exist:

One, no aggression.

Aggressive tone puts people off.

Not just cursing—even nervous or pointed remarks that come off too sharp to third parties are a no-go.

Two, it has to be entertaining.

Just being inoffensive or acting weird doesn’t draw attention.

People fundamentally seek things that are fun. In the reality-free zero-base world of the internet, having a basic sense of humor is essential, not optional.

You don’t have to be a razor-sharp wit like Skelton with his one-liner gags or absurdist punchlines.

Just a sense of humor that fits the vibe.

That’s the minimum for cuteness.

Third, while debatable, the images or memes (called jjalbangs) you post should be cute.

Using the same image over and over isn’t smart. Posting photos tied to real-world stuff—like jazz, rock, movies, or sports—can turn people off.

For what it’s worth, I personally dislike when people post pictures of athletes, especially football players.

Fourth, the username should be cute.

To be precise, it shouldn’t be off-putting. No need for it to be flashy.

Just some wit and charm—but not too much.

That’s it.

Anyone with good instincts should now vaguely understand the essence of being “cute” online:

Don’t disrupt.

That’s the core.

Lastly, be active.

No need to explain. Just like with money—what you put in, you get out.

When a user pops up every time I log in, I naturally start feeling familiar with them, like how a drizzle soaks you before you notice.

That kind of cuteness leads to being “likeable.”

By those standards, I, Skelton, am definitely not a “cute user.”

I’m more of a “superstar”—one who overwhelms with specs rather than approachability.

The user I’ve been paying attention to lately is on the Red Archive board (Viva! Fox! version).

Jjinsangchi: Good morning, Red Archive bros (22)

Jjinsangchi: Casually scrolling the board (12)

Jjinsangchi: Took a massive morning dump... it was thick AF (8)

Jjinsangchi: Gojo Satoru appeared!!!! (6)

Jjinsangchi: Work crowd status... (7)

Jjinsangchi: What was that deleted post? I wanna see too (3)

Jjinsangchi: Why are y’all always here whenever I check in? (12)

Jjinsangchi: UwU I did a feel-good thing today.... (1)

Jjinsangchi: It’s not “haengdanboda,” it’s “hoengdanbodo”!!! (8)

...

As you can see, nothing special.

But like a friendly NPC, they soothe the atmosphere.

The Red Archive board is already a chill place, but even here, you’ve got neutral users doing subtle cliques or backtalking. Yet Jjinsangchi stands out as an exception.

Unintrusive.

It was pure coincidence that I, who once used to post on a board of the same name during the Jeju Intranet era, ended up back here.

Honestly, the more I reflect on it, the more convinced I am I made the right call not killing Jeon Si-hoon.

Almost every board now has some intrusion of reality.

If that reality were good or hopeful, I’d welcome it too.

But every single board is flooded with talk of money, cash, and that goddamn hierarchy we’ve all grown sick of.

Just to name a few: discrimination between different refugee shelters, the eternal feud between Jeju and non-Jeju citizens, constant bragging, sneaky flexing (I spotted a user I’m pretty sure is Kim Daram), and blatant rank-climbing (again, probably Kim Daram).

Even after the world collapsed once, some people never change. And seeing them makes me honestly not give a damn what happens to this city.

Sure, there are doom posts and fearmongering, but Foxgames—or rather, government moderators—delete them instantly.

The reason why subculture boards like Red Archive are free from all that is simple: the users who come here are trying to escape reality.

Me drifting into Red Archive out of sheer burnout is probably similar to a salmon’s instinctual return upstream.

Amazingly, the mobile game this board is about is still in service.

Must be backed by Gong Gyeong-min.

One thing’s for sure: you’ll find no Jeju vs. non-Jeju drama—the fiercest feud in New Seoul—anywhere in this board.

Anyway, I’ve started posting small stuff here too.

AlGoboMyunDaeDanHanSaram: UwU... I did a feel-good thing again... (0)

Let’s see...

0 comments.

2 downvotes.

Not bad engagement, honestly.

I’m definitely less popular than Red Archive’s sweetheart, Jjinsangchi, but I don’t really care about being noticed here.

Honestly, if I logged in with my real account, I could flip the whole board upside down.

Anyway, the reason I keep bringing up Jjinsangchi is simple: I like the guy—and I’ve noticed he’s been going through some real-life trouble lately.

I’ve helped teammates plenty back during the bunker days, and I think I’m in a better position now than I was back then.

* 𝚏𝐫𝚎𝗲𝕨𝐞𝐛𝕟𝚘𝐯𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝗺

As internet speeds have slowed, naturally the pace of online entertainment has regressed too.

Shorts—those bite-sized videos—once led pre-war internet culture. But there was a time when blogs—public online diaries—ruled the web.

Foxgames didn’t revive blogging just because of bandwidth limits.

Foxgames, by age, is a classic blog-era user too.

Younger folks aren’t into blogs. They don’t have the culture for it.

The more expressive ones gravitate toward Instagram-style platforms focused on pictures and self-promotion—external boards not created by Foxgames.

But Jjinsangchi was different.

He was one of the rare users who still blogged, posting little daily diary entries that gave his admirers moments of quiet voyeurism.

His blog posts were extensions of his board entries.

They revealed a bit more reality but still remained gentle, inoffensive, and unobtrusive.

He mostly wrote about his daily life, meals, or leisure. Through those, I learned he works in a factory, has no family, and is from Jeju.

From a guestbook comment on his blog, I saw this:

Crios: Wait? Are you seriously the same Jjinsangchi from the old Red Archive board? Holy crap, you’re still alive?

Jjinsangchi didn’t reply.

What matters is that lately, he’s been posting some ominous and troubled thoughts about real life.

July 24: Went to the hospital. Doc said they don’t know what’s wrong. Took painkillers but couldn’t sleep all night—it hurt that bad.

July 25: Got rotated to a new task. Doesn’t suit me. The supervisor keeps hovering and nagging. Might need to check out the labor center.

Just two entries, but I got the feeling.

Two posts in just one day apart.

He’s clearly in serious pain.

“...”

Maybe I really can help this likeable user from the board.