“······.”

Tak tak tak.

“What are you doing?”

Ignoring Cheon Young-jae’s question, I sent another message.

It was objectively a little absurd—asking for someone’s whereabouts online when that very person was already waiting at the agreed-upon location in the real world.

Back in the days before cell phones, maybe this would’ve made sense. But we live in a time where the absence of a phone is unimaginable.

SKELTON: I’m right in front of you.

SKELTON: Can you come outside?

SKELTON: Or at least say something? Let me hear your voice?

Ever since that moment I reconnected with Foxgames, I’d felt an odd sense of dissonance.

At first, I chalked it up to the natural changes brought by the times—this bleak, warped reality. But the more we exchanged messages, the more frequent the contact became, the more that dissonance deepened.

Objectively, we did have “conversations.”

There was a goal. We exchanged information. Reached conclusions.

By the standard of communication as the realization of intention through dialogue, you could say our conversations were successful.

But all along, I kept feeling something was... wrong. Off. Unreal.

What began as vague discomfort took on concrete form the closer I got to Foxgames’s bunker.

And then it hit me.

The Foxgames I’d been talking to... might not be the Foxgames I thought I knew.

Even now.

Message from foxgames: Right in front? Then you must be near the IC?

Message from foxgames: (Attachment)

Message from foxgames: Here’s the navigation route from IC to our bunker. Use it.

Message from foxgames: :)

At a glance, the conversation seems normal. But something’s off.

It’s not that someone’s impersonating Foxgames.

Message from foxgames: My voice?

Message from foxgames: My voice is deep and alluring.

Message from foxgames: :)

Yeah.

“······.”

It doesn’t feel like I’m talking to a person.

Back before the war, there was a massive boom in the AI industry. Everyone called it the next big thing—one that would carry humanity into the future.

Among its top innovations was the real-time AI chat service.

Even on our own forum, similar services circulated. Particularly those involving paid coding bots, which industry insiders praised for their professional-level sophistication.

But I knew jack shit about any of it.

Back then, I was a multi-debtor and officially designated credit delinquent—a walking liability. I was in and out of court in Busan all the time (since my registered address was there). I didn’t exactly have the bandwidth to keep up with tech trends.

Still, despite my ignorance, a gnawing suspicion had lodged itself in my gut:

What if the person I’m talking to... is an AI?

“Director Park... something wrong?”

Dongtak, who had no doubt gained a heap of life experience today, cautiously asked while watching me monitor the internet.

Even a kid like him could see it—I didn’t look good.

A reaction that, in the past, would’ve been unthinkable.

But here I was.

Dealing with something that concerned an old friend from the forum.

In that moment, I was already halfway to accepting a grim truth.

“No. It’s fine.”

I looked out the car window.

One natural hill came into view.

Foxgames’s bunker, expertly camouflaged.

The empty plain stretched wide, with not a soul in sight.

Off in the distance, something dark—possibly a mutation—was staring back at us.

“······.”

Tak tak tak.

SKELTON: I’m in front of your bunker.

SKELTON: How do I get inside?

Exactly one minute and thirty seconds later, a reply came.

Message from foxgames: Is this really Skelton?

Message from foxgames: It is, right? You’re Skelton?

Message from foxgames: This is the real Skelton, yes?

“...?”

That was new. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

I felt a flicker of hope rise in my chest as I began typing.

SKELTON: Yeah. This is Skelton.

SKELTON: The mythical, named Skelton. ^^

A hopeful message.

But the reply I got—

Message from foxgames: #user_identification "SKELTON"

Message from foxgames: #check Nickname "Skelton" - true;

Message from foxgames: #check verification IDnum - true;

Message from foxgames: #check userproceduralverification - Considerable; or #user is not "dies_irae69", "ROKA_HUN", "anonymous1323"...

...

...

It was code. Programming language I couldn’t decipher.

“······.”

A familiar sense of collapse washed over me as the next messages came in.

Message from foxgames: (Attachment)

Message from foxgames: Follow this route to enter, Skelton.

Message from foxgames: Skelton.

Message from foxgames: So it was you, you rude son of a bitch. I had a feeling. It had to be you. If not you, maybe M9. Or Dongtanmom.

Message from foxgames: Anyway—there’s something I’d like to ask you.

Message from foxgames: :)

“What the hell?”

Kim Daram, who’d been pacing in front of the bunker, shouted while holding her nose.

“It stinks like a corpse out here!”

 “It doesn’t look like suicide—more like natural causes. There aren’t any hesitation wounds, and the body’s lying down peacefully. I did find some narcotic painkillers, but this feels more like they were used to dull the pain, not for suicide. The dosage doesn’t seem lethal, either. No signs of poison or coal briquettes. Though the decomposition makes it hard to say for sure, I personally think this was natural death. That doesn’t mean it was painless, though.”

Kim Daram’s husband, Kwon Gi-ryong, spoke solemnly as he stared down at the deceased’s face.

“To die alone in a place this vast, with no one watching over you at the end... that must be a profoundly lonely thing.”

My worst suspicion had come true.

Foxgames was dead.

He lay there like a character from a gothic novel, eyes closed inside a perfectly positioned paulownia coffin.

Yes.

I had been speaking with the ghost of the dead.

And that ghost had led me to the corpse.

Aside from us, the only mourners were flies, maggots, and other disgusting creatures I’d rather not name.

Kim Daram reeled in disgust, but her expression gradually shifted as she took in the sheer size and luxury of the bunker.

Well, she’s been through a lot. Her standards have probably come down since her days of being called “Assemblywoman.”

I’m not saying my bunker’s worse than Foxgames’s cash-paved fortress. Not at all.

Handling the body fell entirely to me.

Cheon Young-jae offered to help, but I only asked him to lift the coffin.

I don’t know how to explain it—something about this felt like my responsibility.

It felt sacred, in a way. As if I were performing a ritual only I was qualified to do.

Oddly enough, I was even a little awed.

Say what you want about Foxgames, but he was the kind of guy who succeeded.

Some mocked him as just another lucky bastard from a privileged generation. I used to agree. But the more I learned, the more I realized—he was better than others in certain areas.

Just look at the post-death arrangements.

No one can bury their own corpse. But Foxgames had prepared everything he could.

Behind the bunker, a grave had already been dug—probably by a New Seoul government contractor using a backhoe. A testament to his meticulousness.

Even around the grave were frozen lavender blooms—perhaps meant to be scattered over him after burial.

And like all people who prepare for death, Foxgames had left a will.

A living one, in a sense.

“Oh. Hm. Ahem. Hello? Haha... Alright, I’ll keep it casual. Anyone watching this video must be one of my friends—friends I’ve acknowledged as fellow survivors of the apocalypse.”

His will was a video.

No matter how advanced deepfakes got, could anyone replicate that exact look in his eyes? The gaze of a man who knew death was coming?

“I don’t know who’s watching this, but congrats. You’ve earned the right to inherit everything I, Donald Park Jung-gi, A.K.A. Foxgames—legendary second-generation Korean developer, cultural warrior of the Korean gaming boom, and tireless guardian of gaming in the apocalypse—left behind!”

“Bullshit.”

That smug tone and expression—pure Foxgames.

“Is that him?”

As I watched the video, Kim Daram’s family entered the expansive, plush development lab at the heart of the bunker.

I made room for Dongtak and pressed play again.

“I knew I was dying. Honestly, at my age, who doesn’t have at least one chronic illness? And chronic illness basically means your body’s busted. Before the war, a hospital could kinda patch «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» things up, keep you going... but now...”

“When I started in gaming, everything was primitive. All we had was youth and passion. Looking back, that was the most valuable asset. But with age, and the weight of responsibility, we all lose who we were. I was no different. I didn’t do anything exceptional in the game industry—but I gave everything my all. My hottest years burned away my hottest flames...”

“Rigged probability. Yeah. I did it. Back in the era when people used digital cameras to upload image files to forums... the legendary ‘two-hour apology beating show’ was real. The CEO? That asshole had padding under his ass. But me, the youngest? I took that acacia stick straight to the bare butt...”

God, he talked too much.

I sped it up to 2x and skipped through the seemingly endless video will.

“...and so, even though Foxgames ends here, the myth of Foxgames doesn’t. As long as humanity exists, it won’t end. People have debated the definition of humanity since the Bronze Age, but in the end—humans are animals of play. Only higher beings can enjoy play.”

Now things were getting interesting.

Special effects, shimmering on screen—clearly added by Foxgames himself.

Six cards appeared.

“Even though the current government has failed, I still believe in humanity. I mean, look at us! Even using the rift’s transmissions to stay online. That’s faith in the internet, right? So I’ve prepared something. Things that never had a chance to spread their wings—until now.”

The first card flipped over.

Foxgames’s first legacy.

[Immortal – Personalized A.I. Chatbot Service]

“After years on the forum, didn’t you ever think this? When someone dies and disappears, you don’t want to be like that. You don’t want to be pitied. You want to stay. That’s what I thought.”

From the start, I knew what his “legacy” really was.

“Ha.”

It had to be the ghost that led me here.

“This is the chatbot. It learns my usual way of speaking, my interests, my vocab... so even if I die, it can mimic me. I admit, it’s nothing compared to the American models. I barely got this one working with the source code I scraped together.”

Of course.

Another thing he probably borrowed from someone else.

Classic Foxgames.

Still, thanks to that ghost, I found this place.

“Think about it. Even after we die, on the forum, as long as our accounts stay logged in and we answer messages, people assume we’re alive. Death in the real world doesn’t mean death online. Some say a person’s death only becomes real when others acknowledge it.”

I’m not sure.

We lived through the same apocalypse, but maybe we really did live in entirely different worlds.

But I do get it. A little.

Foxgames’s heart.

“Oh, and even though it’s AI-based, you don’t have to rely solely on the AI. You can insert real messages you wrote while alive, based on specific triggers. Adds that human touch, right? Of course, my post-Foxgames bot includes plenty of those human-smelling messages!”

But that sentiment didn’t quite reach Kim Daram and her crew.

“What’s he saying?”

“Chatbot? What even is that?”

While they scrambled to understand, the second card flipped.

[Fox House]

The second legacy was the very bunker we were standing in.

A bit strange.

If we’re watching the will, it means we’ve already claimed the bunker. Foxgames must’ve known that.

He even spoke assuming we were friends of his.

There was a pause.

Then a deep, heavy sigh from Foxgames.

“At the very least... I hope you’re not Dies_Irae. I mean, I hope you’re not.”

His expression darkened when he spoke the name.

Pure hatred and loathing.

“Yeah. If it’s Dies_Irae, he won’t be able to watch this video. I set up a trick on my server. Remember the strict verification when entering? If Dies_Irae or his crew forces their way in, the server explodes. Not a kaboom, but a ‘poof.’ Still enough to erase everything, including this will.”

Cheon Young-jae signaled me and left the room.

He was going to search for the explosives.

I nodded and kept watching.

The reason soon became clear.

“...The more you learn about Dies_Irae, the worse he gets. I’m a doomsdayist too, but he’s something else. It’s like he wants the world to collapse, all the way back to the Stone Age. Yeah—he wants everyone else destroyed so his little group is all that’s left. You gain nothing by staying close to him. Sure, he’ll welcome you in—but all you’ll get is emptiness and ruin.”

I nodded again.

Thinking to myself.

So even Foxgames finally realized what kind of person he was.

We’re all doomsdayists, but...

Is there anyone who purely desires the world’s destruction like Dies_Irae?

Kang Han-min may be doing something similar right now, but he doesn’t hate humanity.

He’s just an obsessive with tunnel vision—focused solely on destroying monsters.

Dies_Irae is different.

He genuinely enjoys the apocalypse.

He revels in seeing the world overturned, watching everything we knew crumble—just so he can rise above it all.

“······.”

This may just be my imagination, but I can’t help but think—

When all this ends, and the only goal left is survival, my final enemy won’t be a monster... or some renowned powerhouse...

But Dies_Irae.

That chilling thought passed through me—just as the third card flipped.

The name on it made my eyes snap wide open.

It carried enough power to wash away even the dread that was Dies_Irae.

[New! Viva! Apocalypse!]

A new forum.