“There. Over there.”

The old forum user ROKA_HUN, whom I hadn’t seen in a long time, looked different in many ways.

It wasn’t that he’d gained or lost weight, or picked up a new scar.

It was the kind of greedy, arrogant eyes that only someone who has casually killed people and toyed with their fates over and over could have—the eyes of a snake.

Back when he first joined the Dies Irae gang, it was already obvious how many atrocities and acts of group-sanctioned violence he’d committed in their name.

More than anything, he doesn’t really use the internet anymore.

Sometimes he’ll read a post or leave a comment, but in a way, he’s graduated from the forum.

Or maybe “dropped out” would be a more fitting term.

The reason he came looking for me was to collect the “protection fee” Dies Irae had been pressing me for.

That protection fee was to be paid in the form of services—monster hunting, to be precise.

“The thing I asked for?”

Revealing the full extent of my abilities is a foolish move.

“This? This is way too old. Even Monster Punch has a new model and an old model.”

“Still, this is more than enough, right? Not exactly something easy to get, either.”

“Yeah, but still. The performance on this thing is pretty bad. Could be trouble when it counts.”

“A guy who’s taken down a general-class monster whining over a small fry?”

“I said I’d do it, so I will, but... haah. Seriously.”

At every stage, he made sure to show how much he didn’t want to do it.

It wasn’t whining.

It was self-defense—the natural reaction when you’re stuck doing something you don’t want to but can’t refuse.

For example, back in my China days, there was a guy two years my senior named Eom Gi-ryung. When I was still a rookie in China, he had a reputation and skill to match my own peak.

As I built my career and fame, his name slowly faded, but for quite some time, people compared us.

He didn’t die because he lacked ability.

He had close-combat skills as sharp as mine, and he enjoyed coming up with cunning strategies that even I had a hard time fully understanding.

But Eom Gi-ryung granted far too many of the Chinese people’s requests.

My mentor once said he loved China and its people so much that he became overly altruistic. And, as tends to happen to such people, he met a sudden, senseless death.

Today’s target was a necromancer type.

I’d heard the rumors about the spread of corruption through Chungcheong Province, but seeing it in person, it wasn’t as advanced as I’d imagined.

Chungcheong is outside the maximum spread range of the rifts in Jeollanam-do and Gyeongsangnam-do.

For Chungcheong to be fully corrupted, the influence from the Paju Rift would have to reach here.

But even if it’s outside the maximum range, infiltration-types still spread corruption like boils across the land.

Recent records from rapidly collapsing regions in North America and Japan show that even if one rift is blocked, “islands of corruption” created by infiltration-types from neighboring rifts eventually connect, corrupting a wide area.

Which means this place won’t be safe for long.

With an early-production Monster Punch—a hastily made hunter’s weapon—in hand, I entered an abandoned logistics warehouse.

Once, thousands of people must have loaded, unloaded, and sorted goods here, brought in by bus from all over the country. Since the war, scavengers have stripped it clean, but the facility was so massive that there was still salvage left, enough for Dies Irae to covet it.

“You sure you can go alone?”

ROKA_HUN asked, watching me.

Without stopping, I replied:

“I’m Skeleton.”

I heard him chuckle as {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} I stepped into the darkness.

Inside, I slung the Monster Punch over my shoulder, raised my rifle, and kept watch.

There could be one of those unsettling new breeds I’d encountered before.

Fortunately, it was just a regular monster nest.

After killing time, I cleared it out easily and came back.

“You seriously handled it alone?”

With a wry smile, I said,

“Almost died.”

Another job done—one that would repeat forever.

What I’d earned was a reprieve from Dies Irae, and the satisfaction of my hunger.

Not a bad trade, in my book, but that’s not something I should show.

I put on a big show of self-importance as I returned to the bunker.

I gave vague answers when Kim Daram and Cheon Young-jae asked after me, then sat down at my computer.

“...”

First thing I checked was my messages.

Nothing.

Woo Min-hee.

Did she choose to stay there?

No.

I tasted bitterness as I returned to the forum—only to have my eyes snagged on a fresh post by none other than Woo Min-hee, aka Reporter Guy.

gijayangban: Escape from Jeju – 1 (feat. M9)

I could’ve clicked it right away, but instead I washed, changed clothes, composed myself, and sat down before clicking the post.

The scent of a person, made of nothing but data and electrical signals, bloomed vividly before me in the form of a forum entry.

gijayangban: It’s been a while, everyone. Some of you know who I am, some don’t.

gijayangban: First, to briefly explain the current situation: I’m in Jeju, and I’m trying to get out.

gijayangban: Jeju’s situation is bad. Really bad.

As always, Reporter Guy’s writing was easy to read and understand.

Rather than padding with useless text, she supplemented with plenty of photos, arranging them like a visual narrative with concise captions.

In this first post of her escape series, she showed the scenery around her bunker: a barren mountain area with not a single tree, massive walls built during the old Jeju government era crudely dividing the island, and a pale sun in the sky with not a single bird in sight.

She showed only the entrance of the bunker, never the inside—or herself.

It was all written strictly in the first person.

gijayangban: This is from last month, after a battle between the Japanese and the Jeju military.

Though she never said it outright, the fierce fighting had clearly reached close to her bunker.

She showed crushed vehicles and barracks, a destroyed tank, and, from a distance, uncollected corpses—all without comment.

Her writing slid into bitter commentary on the incompetence of Jeju’s leadership and their hollow military.

The post felt more like a live broadcast than a finished article.

Which led to a slip-up: in one photo, amid the wreckage and a corpse’s decaying hand protruding from a tank, the faint reflection on reactive armor showed her pulling something like a motorcycle, with a second figure—her double—riding behind her.

No sign of M9. He could be on foot, knowing him.

Despite the lack of comments—typical for this dead forum—the view count was over 50, a huge number compared to the current average of around 10.

No comments, because it was Jeju.

Anyone in Jeju was assumed to be allied with, or at least benefiting from, Kim So-uk—the national enemy.

Still, the curiosity was irresistible.

Even I felt it—watching the downfall of someone you dislike is as irresistible as watching a house burn.

Old lurkers were clearly back to see this.

And Woo Min-hee, an old-school pureblood like me, would sense that silent audience.

She kept posting, unfazed by the silence—until she dropped a heavier update.

gijayangban: Huh? The Japanese are blocking the road.

Exactly the kind of worst-case scenario she must have anticipated for her escape.

Her last photo in that post showed at least 200 armed Japanese lining the roadside, aiming in her direction.

And then—

dongtanmom: Nom nom...

“!”

Dongtanmom. Baek Seung-hyun himself.

First comment—stolen from me.

I quickly hammered out a reply.

SKELTON: (Skeleton shock) Whoa 𝕗𝐫𝚎𝗲𝘄𝐞𝕓𝐧𝕠𝘃𝕖𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝚖

That was the spark.

Soon, more big names appeared: ParkPenguin, keystone, rokaGG, and even iamjesus. Nearly all surviving original members of the forum’s first days.

Then—

unicorn18: Ttiyong~

Na Hye-in.

I’ll figure out later how she’s posting here.

For now, all eyes were on Woo Min-hee.

She posted again:

gijayangban: Resolved~

The photo showed a dark-skinned, wiry man—hardly attractive—grinning as he shook hands with the Japanese.

anon458: Isn’t that M9?

It was.

No weapon on him, yet somehow he’d talked them through.

gijayangban: Captain M9 smoothed things over, so we got through. Still a long way to go, though~

gijayangban: That’s it for today’s broadcast. Even for me, night’s dangerous—anyone who’s used thermal gear knows the ones with it are kings after dark.

gijayangban: One reason the Jeju army lost to the Japanese was the generals spending money on houses, golf courses, and booze instead of that cheap equipment for the troops~

Her tone had changed.

She was suddenly using wave marks—~~~—she’d never used before.

A subtle but undeniable shift in her mindset.

And then—

gijayangban: Me.

I swallowed and clicked.

Woo Min-hee had posted a selfie.

The moment the infamous Reporter Guy’s face was revealed to the whole world.