The term "terminal syndrome," as used in the medical field, is a classic example of a horrifying reality being cloaked in dignified language.

In plain terms, it refers to the pathological, repetitive signs that occur when a disease has advanced to the point where no treatment is possible—essentially a curse cast by the illness itself.

The reason I’m thinking about this common, clinical-sounding term—though I have no clue if academia actually uses it—is solely because of Viva_Bot’s request.

She asked me to look after one particular troublemaker on the board.

The user she referred to was named tntn_Orthopedics.

Using a dictionary, I inferred his handle could be translated roughly as "Tough Orthopedic Clinic."

This guy is like someone you recognize at school but hang with a different crowd.

He didn’t post often and only interacted with users who shared his background: elite education, wealth, aged between 40–50, and let’s add early adopter to the list.

Still, back in the golden age of the board, he had one popular post to his name:

tntn_Orthopedics: A Doctor’s Take After Meeting Too Many People.TXT

I’m aging too, but as someone who’s dealt with more elderly patients than anyone else in Korea—flowers may dry out into beautiful dried flowers, but when humans wither, only greed remains.

He laid out his experiences as a doctor in a straightforward post—this was back when everyone was making content—and it struck a chord with a lot of users.

I’d talked with him a few times in the past. He was the textbook definition of an elite collapse-doomer.

Calm, intellectual, modest, rarely emotional. But when it came to his field of expertise, he had the uncanny ability to pinpoint truths others couldn’t see. And he always remained neutral and factual.

Word has it he wasn’t just a clinic owner. He supposedly had a ten-story hospital building in Seoul. Filthy rich.

But now it’s been six years since the war began.

Everyone assumed it would all end in three. It lasted twice that.

Even the best preparation wouldn’t account for more than five years.

Back in the pre-war English board, there was a half-joke saying:

[ If you're preparing to survive more than three years, you better pack cyanide pills or a bottle of hard liquor strong enough to give you the courage to blow your own brains out. ]

They joked—but only half-joking—that if the post-collapse chaos lasted more than three years, death would be preferable.

I don’t plan to die, but they weren’t wrong.

I checked tntn_Orthopedics’s recent posting history.

Even now, he posts 2–5 unhinged messages per day. A month ago, he had a record of over 200 posts in one day.

Most of those were deleted, but using the "view deleted posts" feature, I found some of the following:

tntn_Orthopedics: There were three patients I intentionally killed. Actually, maybe not intentional. Let’s say willfully indifferent? But so what lol

tntn_Orthopedics: Mom, I’m sorry! Fuck, Mom, I’m sorry! lololol

tntn_Orthopedics: People who never studied properly or achieved anything by themselves grow ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) old and pretend to be adults—that’s why the world’s fucked.

tntn_Orthopedics: I didn’t do anything wrong! I didn’t do anything wrong!

tntn_Orthopedics: There’s a family outside. Japanese. The wife looks good. Face is meh, but big tits. Looks like they think no one lives here. Maybe I’ll shoot them all tonight and rape her?

tntn_Orthopedics: Why the fuck did you cut the internet? This is all I’ve got left, Melon Mask you bastard.

tntn_Orthopedics: Should’ve traded her body for not reporting that embezzlement back then. She had a nice pair.

tntn_Orthopedics: Are they all dead? Where is everyone? Huh? Fuck, why is everyone fucking dead?

tntn_Orthopedics: Dennis?

Just classic online lunacy—uncensored thoughts dumped in raw form.

It’s not new, nor shocking, when a once-composed elite collapse-doomer starts losing it.

This same pattern appeared as early as year two post-war and has since repeated with others.

It was Hong Dajeong who etched the phrase "terminal syndrome" into my memory.

She once said:

“You know those people who are quiet in the community and then suddenly post some weird crap? Like dropping vulgar memes or cussing out of nowhere? Totally unexpected from them? That’s the community’s version of terminal syndrome. Like what doctors mean by terminal symptoms.”

Three years is more than enough time to break a person.

Ask any old soldier and they’ll tell you: time wears everything down.

Now it’s year six.

So what we’re seeing from tntn_Orthopedics is, in a way, perfectly natural.

Ironically, what separates him from monsters is that his ending is ugly.

So despite receiving this request from my goddess Viva_Bot, there’s not much I can do.

SKELTON: (Skelton, serious) I think leaving him alone is best. He’s past the point where words would help.

SKELTON: It’s like terminal cancer. Death is a given—but this is the grotesque, pathetic garnish on top.

I passed my thoughts to Viva_Bot.

There’s nothing I can do.

Unless I physically go to him, which I can’t.

To move in this jungle, I’d need my neighbors’ permission and someone like Cheon Young-jae to guide me.

And that’s not even considering the southern side of the Han River. That’s suicide.

Remember, people crossed that river even knowing monsters were closer on this side.

But here’s the strange thing:

Viva_Bot must’ve seen countless users spiral into ruin.

She’s not just some random user like me. She’s an admin, watching from the shadows. She’s seen far more tragic ends than I have.

So why did she single out tntn_Orthopedics?

Turns out, there’s a story. 𝘧𝓇ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝘣𝓃ℴ𝓋𝑒𝑙.𝑐𝘰𝑚

VIVA_BOT014: Actually, I’ve had health issues since three years ago.

There are tons of users who claim to be doctors. Some really are.

But they’re not obligated to help strangers online. Especially when it’s some sketchy new nickname asking medical advice via DMs.

They’ll usually say: "Take a painkiller."

Honestly, painkillers fix most things.

But three years ago, tntn_Orthopedics was still sane.

And when a random suspicious user messaged him about her health, he took it seriously. He gave her a thorough, professional reply.

VIVA_BOT014: My company had CT machines and technicians, but the in-house doctor was shady. Tattoos everywhere, split tongue, drugged-out stare, racist. Who’d trust him?

SKELTON: How did someone like that become the company doctor?

VIVA_BOT014: Just because it’s America doesn’t mean it’s all merit-based. That guy was tied to a cartel. Turns out he wasn’t even licensed.

VIVA_BOT014: Luckily, Orthopedics reviewed my scan, found signs of an issue near my bile duct, even flagged it so I could get proper care elsewhere.

Back when he was still himself, she was grateful to him.

He didn’t owe her anything, but he helped anyway.

But time ruins everything.

The kind, professional doctor who explained things in simple terms even kids could understand—he’s broken now.

And asking him why is meaningless.

Just look at their final DMs:

tntn_Orthopedics: You’re a girl, right?

tntn_Orthopedics: How old are you? Young? If you’re old, fuck off.

tntn_Orthopedics: Show me your pussy, bitch.

She said it didn’t make her angry. Just deeply sad.

His elite friends vanishing may’ve contributed.

But maybe they’re just laying low.

That rich-people habit of staying “private” didn’t vanish post-war.

Still, there’s one way to check on them.

SKELTON: Has FoxGame logged in?

FoxGame was a member of that elite circle before his identity was exposed. Well-liked. Powerful.

VIVA_BOT014: No. His account’s dormant too.

Even he couldn’t escape this collapse.

SKELTON: Is he dead?

VIVA_BOT014: Can’t say. He never left a message. I’d like to believe it’s just a personal break.

SKELTON: That usually means they’re dead.

VIVA_BOT014: If so, there’s nothing to be done. Anyway, I had to mark him dormant—he was getting as many toxic DMs as you.

SKELTON: I see.

FoxGame.

He won’t die quietly, I bet.

In any case, I hit a wall with that angle.

Time to try someone else.

Someone who was friendly with that elite group, but never quite part of it. A self-proclaimed smart guy—a middle-class user.

berkut_break.

He’s the one who got caught reading porn in Viva! Live!

Sharp-eyed users even spotted prostate massagers in his bookshelf.

“······.”

Clack clack

I hate contacting people like him.

But Berkut’s still active, constantly spewing pseudo-philosophy on the board.

So he’s alive.

Maybe unhinged, but not like Orthopedics.

I messaged him, expecting little.

SKELTON: (Skelton hush!) I need to ask something.

He replied quickly.

berkut_break: Well look who it is! Skelton? That really you?

SKELTON: (Skelton, verified) Urgent matter. Just one question.

berkut_break: Someone who barely spoke to me suddenly shows up—what’s the occasion? Need to borrow money?

Still snide.

I’d punch him if he were here.

SKELTON: It’s about tntn_Orthopedics.

Everyone who’s been on the board during the chaos remembers the guy.

Sometimes, low expectations yield big results.

Berkut was one of those cases.

berkut_break: Oh, that guy?

According to him, Orthopedics was way more successful than we thought.

Owned a ten-story hospital in Seoul. Rented it to other doctors while living in a penthouse—"Lord of the Medical Castle."

Wealth isn’t just trivia to doomsday preppers. It’s a superpower.

berkut_break: Never met him, but heard he decorated his bunker like a luxury hotel. Marble floors. On an island, even.

SKELTON: An island? Isn’t that risky?

berkut_break: Sure. But what if the bunker was camouflaged so well even pirates wouldn’t spot it?

SKELTON: What about ventilation? Power? Solar panels would give it away.

berkut_break: With enough money, anything’s possible.

True.

Money breaks all limits.

People kill parents over money. Parents abandon kids for money.

Still, despite all that wealth, he fell apart in a painfully ordinary way.

berkut_break: All his friends are dead. Guys like Dennis Oldman. Some even went to Seoul recently. Got caught up in battles. Or maybe their batteries just ran out.

SKELTON: Batteries?

berkut_break: You know, everyone’s got a battery. Maybe it’s for patience. Or the soul. Or just the raw energy to keep going. Whatever it is, his ran out.

I hate the guy—but that metaphor stuck with me.

Battery’s dead.

So he broke.

Simple and true.

Orthopedics used up everything he had.

Like all terminal syndrome cases, he’ll vanish from the board—and the world.

There’s only one thing I can do.

tntn_Orthopedics: kek kek kek!

He posted this twisted death cry in a message under 2kb.

“······.”

Click

SKELTON:

I leave a reply.

A blank comment—not to shame or argue.

Just so he knows someone is still watching.

Whether it meant anything, I can’t say.

His breakdown didn’t stop.

A week later, tntn_Orthopedics disappeared from the board.

His final post was titled:

tntn_Orthopedics: Family matters more than money. Remember that.

Only then did I realize the real cause of death.

His internet death certificate would say:

Loneliness.