Hiding a House in the Apocalypse-Chapter 130: Connection

Those with power make the law.

It’s a simple truth, unchanged through time—yet for a long while, we forgot it.

Perhaps it was because those in power wore the mask of the weak as they wielded their strength, leaving us unaware of the truth.

It’s been four years since the war began.

By now, most formalities, masks, pretenses, and pageantry should’ve long since vanished.

Under the shadow of The Hope, Woo Min-hee declared a new law.

“The supplies here are the property of the Republic of Korea. Unauthorized removal will not be tolerated.”

Of course, there’s no law without power to back it.

Woo Min-hee revealed her full strength in front of thousands.

Thud!

A shockwave so strong, it felt like the earth would split.

And then—

KRRRRRAK-BOOM!!!

With a single burst of focus, the dilapidated building across the way collapsed.

The impact was so intense, even The Hope swayed precariously for a moment.

Faced with the overwhelming power of an over level-10 Awakened, no one dared speak against her.

Not even Kim Byeong-cheol, who once called himself the ruler of Korea.

Now reduced to a minor warlord, having lost his powerful legion, artillery, troops, and gear, all Kim Byeong-cheol could do in front of Woo Min-hee was lower his head.

If he were a little more self-destructive, he might have chosen suicide—but we all know he has a daughter.

Kim Byeong-cheol quickly bowed his head.

Woo Min-hee, having spent much of her life at the top, didn’t rashly drive him or the others gathered here away.

Instead, she appointed Kim Byeong-cheol’s faction as the warehouse’s managers and gatekeepers.

“I’ll send someone later to help oversee things. We need someone on our side who knows how this place runs. Oh, and could I borrow a truck?”

Some whispered that Woo Min-hee must have known about this secret warehouse from the start. But I think differently.

She likely had intel.

After all, she’s part of the Jeju government.

But even she probably didn’t expect this place to be so honestly well-stocked.

In times like these, places like this warehouse are usually picked clean by grave robbers and scavengers.

Given her cynical and pessimistic worldview, she likely assumed the place had been empty from the moment it was built.

So when she saw how full it actually was, she chewed out Emgu.

“Hey there, Emgu? This is Reporter Guy.”

“...R-Reporter Guy?!”

Our Emgu had to endure a harsh initiation from Woo Min-hee.

“Yeah, Emgu. I told you to take that post down, didn’t I...?”

Let’s take a moment to appreciate Emgu’s survival instincts.

“S-Sorry, I didn’t recognize you!”

Emgu practically bent himself at a sharper angle than The Hope itself as he apologized to Woo Min-hee.

Whether that bow moved her or not, she chose not to press him further.

“As long as you get it. Oh, and if you start running your mouth about this? You know what happens, right?”

“Yes, ma’am!”

“Good. Captain Emgu. Hah.”

Woo Min-hee let out a crooked smile as she looked up at the leaning apartment complex.

“How long are you planning to live there? That thing looks like it could collapse any second.”

Sure, Woo Min-hee is probably the strongest Awakened left on the Korean Peninsula. But Emgu’s no slouch in the online world either.

He may be a step behind me, but he’s clawed his way up to rival status.

Maybe that attitude carried over into real life too. Because despite groveling earlier, Emgu stood tall now, right in front of his apartment, speaking with conviction even as The Hope tilted behind him.

“I can’t leave. That place... that place is me.”

I thought I’d have to step in if Woo Min-hee got angry, but it wasn’t necessary.

“Hmph~. Is that so?”

She just squinted lazily at Emgu, casting him a sideways glance.

“Well, it was just concern. Not an order or anything. Anyway, do you need anything? Food? Fuel? I heard this winter’s going to be brutal.”

Leaving aside his tragically pitiful expression, Emgu definitely has that look that inspires sympathy.

From what I know, Woo Min-hee rarely lifts a finger to help others. Yet here she was, offering support without hesitation.

And Emgu, face made of iron apparently, shamelessly listed off his demands.

“I’ve got heating—boiler’s working—but I need food, clothes, basic everyday items! Oh, and since there are more people now, bullets would be nice too!”

Yeah... I think I get it.

“Feel free to speak openly. I’m an internet denizen too, after all.”

That’s right.

Woo Min-hee was one of us—our forum friend.

Anyway, everyone knew I was up next.

“And Umchang.”

Woo Min-hee turned to look at me.

Screeeeech—

Her clawed fingers made a hideous scraping sound as she moved them up and down.

“We’ve got a lot to talk about, don’t we?”

I looked off to the side.

“Who’s Umchang...?”

What we’re about to talk about now.

Sure, Umchang’s identity is a big deal, but what I’ve uncovered here goes far beyond that—something vital to the survival of a collapsing humanity.

Woo Min-hee may have a rough personality, but she draws a clear line between personal and professional matters.

We met inside a small building across from the leaning Hope.

There was a café on the fourth floor.

The furniture was mostly broken, dust-covered, but there were still chairs and a table worth sitting at.

Judging by the recent signs of use, Emgu probably placed them there.

The wall was blown out rather than having a proper window, giving us a full view of the scene below. Inside that ruined café, we placed some files and a tablet on the table and sat across from each other.

“...Hmm.”

Woo Min-hee sipped her hot tea as she calmly reviewed my combat logs.

Unlike Kim Byeong-cheol’s cheap stuff laced with artificial sweeteners, this was real quince tea from Jeju.

“So, you’re saying the Praetorian-type monster tracked you using the Necropolis signal you were emitting?”

“Yeah.”

The record is solid.

Verifiable.

And besides, Woo Min-hee had been watching that battle from not too far away.

“And this ‘Deadman_working’ person anticipated it?”

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

“Yeah. Annoyingly enough, he only told me after I activated the device.”

“There’ve been reports that Necropolis has some minor effects on Awakened... but I didn’t realize it was this serious.”

“Maybe it’s just because the U.S. is so huge and Necropolis signals were already everywhere from the start?”

If we interpret Deadman_working’s words, the real issue arises when you activate high-output equipment that pulls in the Necropolis signal in areas where the signal hadn’t already reached.

In other words, even if it’s the same Necropolis signal, a big one moves monsters—whereas in places already saturated, where the signal just trickles through like air, it doesn’t do much.

Apparently, Woo Min-hee felt something similar.

“By the way, did you shut down the equipment? I don’t feel any of those voices anymore.”

“According to Ballantine, the signal’s been mostly captured and is stabilizing now.”

“Ballantine? Who’s that?”

“John Nae-non’s subordinate.”

“John Nae-non?”

Woo Min-hee let out a short laugh.

“Oh, the guy who made PaleNet?”

I nodded.

“He’s dead, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I see.”

She set her tea down and stared blankly out the broken wall.

In front of the warehouse, still under military guard, a restless crowd lingered.

Maybe they thought they’d be given something.

Or maybe they knew they’d get nothing anywhere else.

Maybe both.

“Anyway.”

Woo Min-hee put her teacup down.

Her eyes, faintly glowing like a cold planet, locked onto me.

“Don’t you think it’s about time «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» you told me?”

The air froze.

“What exactly were you trying to do with all this?”

For some reason, she doubted my intentions.

I know Woo Min-hee well.

So I wouldn’t drag this out unnecessarily.

“What are you basing this on?”

I needed to know.

What exactly triggered this reaction from her?

She and I see the world differently.

We stand in completely different positions and see completely different things.

Sure, Viva! Apocalypse! connects us, but a shared forum is just that—a shared forum.

In my case, the internet is as real as reality itself. For someone like Woo Min-hee, maybe not so much.

I met her gaze, sharp enough to tear me apart, and waited for her lips to move.

“You met Na Hye-in in Jeju, didn’t you?”

I nodded.

Still, I couldn’t read her intent.

From what I knew, Woo Min-hee and Na Hye-in weren’t exactly close—but they weren’t enemies either.

Was there some power struggle or falling out I didn’t know about?

“Na told you to—”

She paused, her clawed fingers curling as she let out a dry chuckle.

“No—asked you to investigate Necropolis, right?”

Good thing I asked about her suspicions first.

She was talking about something I had no idea about.

A classic case of perspective misalignment.

“It’s true I met Na Hye-in. But she never gave me any orders—or even asked for anything.”

“Really?”

She still didn’t seem convinced.

If anything, it looked like I’d only stirred the faint glimmer of madness hidden behind her eyes.

“Then... did you receive orders from Jeju instead of from Na Hye-in?”

Woo Min-hee pressed the question again.

In that moment, I realized something: things weren’t exactly smooth between her and the Jeju administration.

“...”

So they’re not on the same page after all.

Well, knowing Woo Min-hee’s personality, she’d probably rather live surrounded by sycophants in some isolated outpost than coexist with a bunch of people she doesn’t like.

That’s just how she is—intensely self-centered, through and through.

“I think I get why you’re suspicious of me. But listen, Woo Min-hee. I don’t take orders from anyone.”

I said it, loud and clear, as I looked at her.

If her madness flared up and she killed me on the spot, then so be it.

But her suspicion wasn’t born entirely from paranoia or habit.

“You, senior...”

Screeeeech—

She dragged one of her clawed fingers across the marble tabletop.

“You’re selfish. You always have been, right? The kind of person who only cares about himself.”

“...”

“I'm being honest here. Back in the day, you were... impressive. Sometimes I wondered how it was even possible for someone to think and act so completely centered around themselves. I almost respected it.”

I won’t deny it.

I was that kind of person.

For the sake of my goals, I threw countless people into life-threatening situations.

I knew they might die—but I didn’t stop them. I left that responsibility to them.

Sure, my team had a low death rate. But it could’ve been even lower.

If I had really wanted that.

It was my choice.

In the silence that followed, Woo Min-hee kept speaking.

“You were great at PR, too. Lee Sang-hoon, Daram—they all used to get sick just hearing your name.”

That part stung a little, honestly. But if that’s how they saw it, then I’ll accept it.

All I did was take on more risk than others, file more detailed reports, and take initiative in exploring the unknown.

If that qualifies as PR, so be it.

“The Golden Fleece.”

She brought up that old, meaningless title—something long since lost its value.

“I always thought that Golden Fleece you received perfectly symbolized what kind of person you are.”

She stared at me.

Her gaze was sharp and cold, like a giant serpent, as she continued in a level voice.

“This time too, I thought maybe your old sickness had flared up again.”

“It didn’t.”

Woo Min-hee tilted her head, unconvinced.

For a moment, I couldn’t think of what to say.

What kind of words could possibly convince this suspicious, narcissistic, warped junior of mine?

Honestly, I had no idea.

But then a small device made a sound on its own.

The communicator.

As I hesitated, Woo Min-hee gestured for me to answer it.

I picked it up and took the call.

“Ah! Skelton!”

Could any voice sound more welcome?

It was Ballantine.

“Are you busy right now? I heard you went upstairs with that terrifying person...”

“Terrifying person?”

Woo Min-hee gave a cold smile.

Sharp ears, that one.

I quickly shushed Ballantine and listened to the rest.

“Ah, right. I just wanted to let you know—the Necropolis transmission has been fully received! Which means the voices of the dead are now rooted around us!”

Woo Min-hee must have heard Ballantine’s voice as well.

Not that I intended her to.

“Necropolis?”

She tilted her head.

“What is this? You had some other scheme going on?”

For someone so suspicious, it’s no surprise that she overthinks everything.

Still, that brief exchange with Ballantine must’ve nudged her perspective a bit—away from her fixation on Jeju.

But the real reason her murderous aura subsided probably lies in the overlap between us. The shared ground we’ve had these past four years.

“You said you know John Nae-non, right?”

“Yeah. I know him. His real name was Goo Ssang-hyo, wasn’t it? Such a strange name.”

“I like John Nae-non.”

For the first time, Woo Min-hee’s expression twisted.

A face like she just bit into something rotten.

Ignoring her reaction, I spoke honestly.

“I always wanted to be like him.”

I looked at my phone.

Signal. Finally.

She still stared at me with that unreadable look—but now I had the logic and conviction to persuade her.

I stood up and looked down at the crowd below, visible through the open wall.

“Look.”

People were staring at their phones.

“Huh? What’s this?”

“I’ve got signal!”

“What’s going on?”

Invisible waves—or perhaps voices—moved through the crowd.

A curious boy lifted his phone and checked the internet.

“Whoa?! What is this?!”

What appeared before him was a world he both knew and had never seen before—familiar, yet entirely new.

“Necropolis? What is this? Huh?!”

Like any kid his age, he faced the unknown with boundless curiosity and unquenchable enthusiasm.

“It’s all in English! Why is everyone speaking English?”

Indeed, Necropolis runs in English.

Deadman_working had localized the title, but the users inside still spoke English—there simply weren’t the resources to translate all that content.

Automatic translation had only been possible thanks to the Viva! Apocalypse! platform funded by Melon Mask. It had always been a kind of luxury.

Even so, the boy began figuring things out in this strange world on his own.

His rough, fingerless hand fumbled across the cracked, worn screen—searching until he found the buttons and features hidden within that foreign language.

And then—

Deceased1 (KOR): Hello?

A voice from a new region joined the chorus of the dead within the City of Death.

That voice echoed forth.

Deceased2 (KOR): Hello?

Deceased3 (KOR): Hi there?!

Deceased4 (KOR): What is this! lol~

Deceased5 (KOR): Heya!

Deceased6 (KOR): Hellooo

Deceased7 (KOR): Nice to meet you

Deceased8 (KOR): Hey!

Deceased9 (KOR): S’Morning~

Deceased10 (KOR): Greetings!

Deceased11 (KOR): Hi!

...

...

“What the...”

Woo Min-hee stared at her phone with an uncharacteristic expression, then turned her eyes to me.

“Don’t tell me... this is what you were aiming for?”

I looked at her and gave a quiet smile as I nodded.

“Yeah.”

The world was connected again.