Hiding a House in the Apocalypse-Chapter 115.3: Happiness (3)

Cheon Young-jae’s ex was said to be in a small settlement atop an old mountain fortress.

The road winding beneath the fortress, hugging the mountainside, was coated in an ashen hue. Abandoned houses stood like gravestones, and from within them, the eerie, ceaseless chorus of zombies filled the air—a never-ending round of death’s lullaby.

"This is the place," Ha Tae-hoon muttered curtly.

He was one of the people who objected to this mission.

Which is why I wouldn’t be assigning him any dangerous or difficult tasks.

"A lot of people used to live here. See that apartment complex with the swan painted on it? They turned that into a fortress—over two thousand people tried to make a life there. But in the end, they all died. And now, as you can see, they’ve all turned into zombies."

Bang Jae-hyuk was neutral on the matter.

He had no interest in saving Cheon Young-jae’s ex, but he also had no strong reason to oppose the mission.

He and Ha Tae-hoon would be in charge of rear support.

I couldn’t expect too much from Bang Jae-hyuk, given his bad leg.

As we stood on the ridge overlooking the town, we weren’t alone.

A vintage Jeep sat parked at the far end, its engine shut off.

A sturdy flagpole extended from its body, and fluttering in the wind was a familiar symbol.

A cartoonish, somewhat ridiculous-looking penguin.

Bang Jae-hyuk murmured, "Someone from Park Penguin’s group?"

Near the Jeep, a man stood with two boys.

They weren’t surprised to see us.

They must’ve been informed of our arrival in advance.

The man led the two boys toward us.

"You’re the ones heading to the Herb Village?"

His face was unremarkable.

Before the war, he would’ve been just another face in the crowd.

But judging a person by looks alone was a mistake.

I glanced at the boys—presumably his sons.

There was fear and wariness in their eyes, but also curiosity and determination.

To have raised two children in this world was no small feat.

"I go by Park Penguin. It’s a ridiculous name, but what can I do? That’s what the world calls me now."

He handed us a business card, holding it carefully with both hands.

It was clearly from before the war.

[Aram Hardware Shopping Center – “Interior Estimates Welcome!” – Park Jin-gu]

"This was my real name. Ah, don’t mind the card. It’s just an old habit. I don’t have many left anyway. Soon enough, I won’t have any to give out."

Park Penguin turned his gaze toward the ashen landscape.

"You really plan on pushing through that?"

"Yeah."

He patted his sons’ heads.

"Take a good look. These people were once called Hunters—brave men and women from the past."

The boys were nearly identical in both appearance and stature.

Twins.

Whether the baseball team that used twins as their mascot had somehow foreseen this or not, one thing was certain—twins had become more common in an age where children were rare.

The media once claimed that the rise in twins was due to increased use of IVF treatments.

Before the world fell apart, it wasn’t uncommon to see twin strollers in supermarkets and on the streets.

But even though there had been many twins, not many had managed to keep their other half alive.

Even at school, there had been twins.

One died, and the other walked away from the battlefield forever.

"You don’t mind if we observe from here?" Park Penguin asked.

He must’ve received our information from the refugee camp. freewebnσvel.cѳm

Not that we had any special skills worth hiding.

"Suit yourself."

With Park Penguin and his sons watching, we began our mission.

The biggest obstacle was, unsurprisingly, the zombies.

There were too many.

A handful of them wouldn’t even count as a warm-up for a Hunter, but zombies became more aggressive and feral in large numbers.

And for some reason, they also seemed... stronger.

As if what little remained of their souls resonated, growing in intensity.

Driving through this sea of zombies wasn’t an option.

Nor could we take an alternative route through the backroads.

There was only one road leading to the settlement where Cheon Young-jae’s ex was, and it passed straight through town.

A buggy could plow through and scale the steep inclines, but our cheap one-ton electric truck had its limits.

And we had Bang Jae-hyuk and his elderly mother with us.

Losing the vehicle wasn’t an option.

We needed a different approach.

Traveling on foot through a zombie-infested city was rarely wise, but # Nоvеlight # as Jang Gi-young used to say—there’s no place a Hunter can’t go.

Back at school, we learned various methods for moving through urban areas overrun with zombies.

One of them was the Parkour Route.

The idea was simple—use narrow ledges, rooftops, steep slopes, and otherwise inaccessible terrain to bypass hordes of zombies and carve out a safe path.

The biggest drawback of the Parkour Route?

It depended entirely on physical ability.

Jumping distance and agility varied from person to person.

Some people could pull off acrobatics like a circus performer.

Others struggled with basic tumbling.

Hunters valued nerves of steel and precise shooting above all else.

Physical prowess was secondary.

But that didn’t mean we neglected it entirely.

Obstacle courses had been part of our training, and while I did above average, Kim Da-ram—true to his nickname as a human gorilla—made up for all his other shortcomings with sheer physicality.

Kang Han-min, though?

He was hopeless.

He failed every obstacle course, and Jang Gi-young constantly chewed him out for it.

It got so bad that people started joking that Jang Gi-young was trying to kill him with those tests.

After all, he kept forcing him to take them, even though everyone knew he’d fail.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

A single misstep meant falling.

Injury or death.

Fatigue made that risk even greater.

And yet, Jang Gi-young had relentlessly pushed him.

People whispered that he must have wanted Kang Han-min dead—or at least didn’t mind if it happened.

I didn’t see it that way.

I don’t think he wanted him to die.

But I do think he understood that he might.

Jang Gi-young wasn’t a good man.

But he wasn’t a monster either.

Love him or hate him, he was still my teacher.

"Let’s move."

The first obstacle was a narrow building.

There wasn’t a single rental banner or advertisement hanging from it—just dust, shattered glass, and a few skeletal remains.

Near the rooftop, a body lay slumped forward.

Judging by the decayed rope still hanging from a pillar, it had been a suicide by hanging.

Woo—oooh—oooh...

The moaning of zombies rose from below.

That eerie sound they made in dormancy.

As long as we didn’t fire a gun or make any noise that would trigger them, we were safe.

Bzzzzz—

A drone hovered above us as we reached the rooftop.

Ha Tae-hoon’s.

His voice crackled through the communicator.

"Still quiet so far."

From the rooftop, I looked across to the next building.

"This is..." Cheon Young-jae muttered, frowning.

"We can make it over from this side. But getting back the same way? That’s a different story."

"It’s not a problem."

Every low-rise building had descender devices.

It was a legal requirement.

No landlord wanted to deal with the fire code violations, so even the stingiest among them installed something—cheap as it might be.

They were rarely ever used.

"Found it."

I checked the rope’s durability, secured it to the pillar, then used it as a makeshift rope bridge.

Cheon Young-jae and I leaped across to the neighboring rooftop.

Even with the elevation advantage, it was still at least a 4.5-meter gap.

Even with a running start, a single misstep would send us plummeting seven stories down.

Not even Professor or Super Skeleton would survive that.

Thud!

Cheon Young-jae and I landed lightly.

Two sturdy ropes had been set up between buildings.

Forging our own paths, creating our own routes—that was the essence of the Parkour Route.

I just hoped we wouldn’t have to climb back up using these ropes.

With that thought, we moved forward, searching for the next segment of our route.

Bzzzzzz—

As we carved out, adjusted, and solidified our path, Ha Tae-hoon’s drone zipped around, scanning for threats and providing early warnings.

The beauty of teamwork.

When you have skilled comrades covering your weaknesses, it frees up your mind.

And when your mind is free, you can focus entirely on your job.

Through grueling effort, we carved our way through the biggest obstacle—the Zombie Town.

"This is the end of the line," I muttered.

Even as Hunters, constantly climbing stairs, leaping across gaps, and navigating through tight crevices wore us down.

Even I was sweating a little.

But we were only halfway done.

"This is Ha Tae-hoon. I’ll try to get the truck as close to your position as possible."

While the truck maneuvered around the town to find a support position, I surveyed our surroundings.

Everything was stained a dull, ashen gray.

I spotted some vines—August’s last remnants of life.

But they had curled inward, coiling in sharp, unnatural right angles.

Clusters of dimly glowing fruit-like growths hung like lanterns, casting an eerie pall over the landscape.

Scientists had tried countless times to analyze these things.

They all failed.

The moment they attempted dissection, the samples vanished—leaving not even the smallest trace for research.

The Rift was something beyond human comprehension.

But those of us who had faced it understood, at least vaguely, what it was.

Above a field of bleached bones, at the very tip of a curling vine, bloomed a flower in a shape that had never existed before.

The Rift itself was a form of life.

Just as the red and white blood cells coursing through our veins had no soul or thoughts—only purpose—the Rift’s outpourings were the same.

It had no will.

Only intention.

"Park-seonbae."

Cheon Young-jae was staring up at another ridge.

"I know it’s early, but... thanks."

"It’s too early for thanks."

"I know that."

"No, I mean it. The monsters aren’t the real problem."

I fixed my gaze on him.

"The real problem... comes after."

"..."

"You should start preparing yourself."

A Necromancer-Type was up on that ridge.

It had to be eliminated immediately.

Before it could awaken the zombie horde and drown us in a tide of the dead.

Unlike Spider-Types, Necromancer-Types weren’t constructors.

Instead, they took over existing human structures—turning them into fortresses manned by undead walls of flesh.

But they were primitive.

They still had weaknesses.

"There it is."

Behind a rundown motel, wedged between half-heartedly spun gray webbing, stood a grotesque statue—motionless, human-like in form.

A Necromancer-Type.

Around it, at least a hundred zombies shuffled aimlessly.

"A significant number," Cheon Young-jae muttered.

"Yeah."

Too many to fight through directly.

We could push through by force, but we’d be swarmed before making it halfway.

The Necromancer would raise an entire legion.

Sniping it wouldn’t work either.

Monsters didn’t sleep.

Even when they appeared motionless, they weren’t resting.

They were waiting.

Their very presence was a beacon—calling others to taint the land in ash.

"Mm."

Truthfully, even Professor would struggle in this situation.

We’d been spoiled lately—every Necromancer we’d fought had gone down too easily.

But a properly entrenched one?

It was trickier than any Lesser Type.

Back when we had Chinese military support, we could just call in artillery or airstrikes.

These days, we weren’t so lucky.

"We go around."

There was no need to engage unless we had to.

We’d confirm whether the VIP was present first.

If extraction was impossible without eliminating the Necromancer, then we’d handle it.

That had been my approach in China, too.

Unless the monster itself was the objective, I always considered fighting the last resort.

I hated monsters more than anyone.

Which was exactly why I understood how dangerous they were.

From a distance, the forest seemed dense.

But once we were inside, I realized there weren’t many large trees.

Likely cut down for firewood during last winter’s brutal cold.

The incline was steep, but we could use the stumps as footholds.

After a short rest—some water from my canteen and a sugar-boiled nutrition bar—we continued climbing.

The drone didn’t follow.

The risk of alerting the monster was too high.

And if it activated its power, we could lose a valuable scouting asset.

Even without the drone, we had Cheon Young-jae’s eyes.

This journey was for him.

"I don’t know what Bang-seonbae told you," Cheon Young-jae muttered, slightly out of breath.

"But we... had a good relationship."

He smiled.

"You saw Park Penguin’s kids earlier, right?"

I nodded without speaking.

At a near-vertical incline, we grabbed onto thin branches to pull ourselves up.

I went first, then reached down and helped haul him up.

"Maybe I could’ve been a father like Park Penguin."

I felt his full weight straining my arm.

I frowned.

"What?"

"When we broke up... she was pregnant."

"...And you still split up?"

"Who knows? Maybe somewhere out there... there are kids I don’t even know about."

There was hope in his voice.

I didn’t believe it.

And maybe... neither did he.

But with his ex so close, the long-dead hope inside him had begun to stir—like a zombie rising from the grave.

"Don’t expect too much," I warned.

"I’m not," he muttered. "Just saying it’s possible."

But his eyes told a different story.

They were sharp.

"People ahead!"

He surged forward.

I blocked him with a hand and spoke calmly.

"Slow down. Don’t rush."

He stared at me.

That look again.

That testing gaze.

I met his stare, unflinching.

He’d tested me many times.

At least... he had acted like he was testing me.

This time, it was my turn.

No one is exempt from judgment.

I would be the one to test him.

Through the ashen fog, I saw smoke rising in the distance.

Crouching behind the underbrush, I raised my binoculars and surveyed the grayed-out villa complex.

The faded paint, the exposed steel, the crumbling ruins.

Figures lurked around the perimeter.

They were human.