Hiding a House in the Apocalypse-Chapter 74.4: Tyrant (4)

“Wow, as expected of Dongtanmom! What an incredible man. To instill hope in us with such a short video! We need to give him more support!”

Melon Musk appeared on-screen once again, sharing his thoughts with enthusiasm.

So moved was he that he shed a few tears, which floated through the cold expanse of space. Like a true three-year space veteran, Melon collected the floating droplets with a sponge and, wearing an elated expression, exclaimed dramatically:

“Next up is M9!”

Finally, it was that guy’s turn.

It was the first time the "M" in M9 seemed to falter.

This guy had been desperate for the armband from the beginning. He’d been campaigning for votes for ages, even promising residency rights at The Hope to attract supporters.

Living in unfounded confidence as always, M9 had been acting like he already owned the armband, going as far as posting fake announcements:

mmmmmmmmm: (Announcement) Captain M9 speaking!

And now, after Dongtanmom’s ridiculously high-quality video—even I had to admit its brilliance—what could M9 possibly be feeling?

As much as I hated to admit it, M9 and I might be experiencing similar emotions right now.

Would he give up halfway like Berkut did? Or quit entirely?

Frankly, even if he dangled himself from a rope in a collapsing apartment, his chances of beating Dongtanmom were close to zero.

As I sipped my coffee and waited, a message popped up.

[M9’s live broadcast will begin shortly!]

I had to give it to M9: his persistence was commendable. Despite knowing he had no chance of winning after seeing Dongtanmom’s video, he was pushing forward with his live stream.

While there was no way he’d win, I leaned back and focused on the broadcast.

The video began with M9 sitting cross-legged in a tilted living room, suspended by a rope.

Judging by the angle and framing, he was using a selfie stick to film.

His expression was serene, as if he’d achieved some profound enlightenment.

What had he realized? That his house was about to collapse?

Suddenly, M9 opened his eyes and, with surprising agility, began navigating the tilted apartment.

He climbed through slanted hallways and against walls at an angle of at least 45 degrees, moving as effortlessly as a salmon swimming upstream.

Eventually, he reached a dark elevator shaft, its gaping maw open like a black hole, and descended the rope rapidly. His reinforced gloves sparked from the friction.

Emerging into a well-lit passage, he landed gracefully in what appeared to be a fourth-floor garden.

“Ah, it’s cold,” he muttered, adding a bit of humor.

From there, M9 moved into the apartment’s community facilities, connected to the outdoor garden.

The building, once known as The Hope, had been a symbol of ultimate luxury. Its amenities included a pool, a sauna, a screen golf area, and a fitness center.

But like everything else in this apocalypse, it had fallen into disrepair, and most of the facilities were non-functional. The only exception seemed to be the bathhouse.

Unsurprisingly, M9 headed for the bathhouse.

The boiler was miraculously still running, filling the space with white steam and warmth.

It was remarkable that water and electricity were still operational. Truly, this was The Hope.

But why the bathhouse?

Was he planning a bath scene?

Who on earth wanted to see M9 in a bath scene?

In the upper-left corner of the screen, Melon Musk’s live reaction window appeared silently.

Melon’s wide eyes reflected a mix of curiosity and uncertainty as he watched, likely wondering the same thing as me.

Would Melon shut down the broadcast if M9 actually undressed?

But instead of a bath scene, what awaited us in the bathhouse was something entirely unexpected:

A nest.

Not just any nest—a colossal one.

Inside it was an egg, far larger than an ostrich egg.

“I found this egg a week ago,” M9 said, smiling as he gently stroked the egg.

“It’s alive. There’s life inside this shell.”

He lifted the egg carefully, cradling it as if it were a baby.

“I don’t know where its parents went. They’ve been gone for over two weeks, so they’re probably dead. But I’ve decided to raise it.”

M9’s smile widened.

“I know it’s a mutation egg. Believe me, I’ve been tempted to fry it up for breakfast many times! But Melon Musk taught us, didn’t he? That humans and mutations can coexist.”

I glanced at Melon Musk’s reaction window.

Melon’s expression shifted, his mouth forming the words “M9,” accompanied by what seemed to be genuine emotion.

Turning to the camera, M9 bowed deeply in Korean fashion.

“Melon Musk! Thank you! It’s because of you that I had the courage to nurture a new friend instead of eating this egg! No, scratch that—it’s because of you that we’re able to live, broadcast, and connect with everyone in this apocalyptic world!

Melon, thank you again! Thank you, Melon! I love you!”

For a moment, I was stunned.

It was obvious what M9 was doing.

“That bastard...”

Realizing he couldn’t win the vote, he was trying to cozy up to the most influential person—Melon Musk. By earning Melon’s favor, M9 likely hoped to secure a position regardless of the election results.

After a nauseating display of flattery, M9 ended his live stream with a smug grin.

“This is M9, broadcasting from The Hope, the symbol of hope itself.”

Reactions poured in.

taxpaidoff: What kind of bird’s egg is that?

Nguyenppaktura: A mutation egg? Interesting.

Anonymous3: Isn’t the Melon Musk praise a bit much?

KLAN_DIREWOLF: How are you going to raise a bird? Feed it meat?

Jadefalcon883: Lucky Melon. He’s got himself a worshipper.

Bird Breeder: That’s just an ostrich egg, isn’t it? The patterns look too familiar.

Ayuata_Krahgh: Why hasn’t that apartment collapsed yet?

Zebusika: Are Korean apartments indestructible?

SKELTON: Tsk tsk...

The responses were lukewarm.

Not that it mattered to M9. His live stream wasn’t for the board’s users—it was a calculated play for Melon Musk alone.

I had to give him credit for his cunning, if nothing else.

As I was cracking my knuckles, ready to write a scathing critique, a message popped up.

VIVA_BOT014: Skelton, please prepare for your live stream. Today is a special Korea event, so even that odd beatboxing of yours will be aired. Whether it gets cut midway is up to President Melon.

A live stream?

Me?

I hadn’t planned on streaming today.

I didn’t prepare anything.

Besides, I didn’t need to stream to win.

But after Dongtanmom’s powerful video, it felt necessary to put something out there.

I needed time.

Something impactful enough to move people... while also ensuring that Min-hee, Han-min, and Hye-in wouldn’t discover my identity.

As the videos of other candidates rolled on, I started brainstorming.

What could I do?

I didn’t have Dongtanmom’s creativity or production resources, nor did I have M9’s material or underhanded tactics.

I only had one thing—myself.

[The live stream is starting.]

I glanced at my phone.

The sub-monitor displayed my live feed.

The screen showed a man, his face hidden behind sunglasses, a hip-hop-style cap, and a mask.

“Ah, ah.”

I tested my voice. It came out nasal, muffled by the voice modulation program.

Good. No one would recognize me.

But then:

gijayangban: ?

gijayangban: ?!

gijayangban: ?!!

gijayangban: Huh?!

What’s her problem?

Ignoring her, I focused on the camera as soft, melodic background music with a gentle beatboxing rhythm began to play.

“Hello, everyone. This is Skelton. I’m sure many of you already know me. Where should I begin?

Let me be honest. I’m just an ordinary person, no different from any of you. Okay, maybe a little better—no, not birth better, just better. Ha ha!”

gijayangban: ?

“My parents always told me to focus on my responsibilities before trying to become a good person. Back then, I didn’t understand what they meant. Was it about tidying up my surroundings? Doing my homework?

Now, at 22 years old, I think I finally get it.”

gijayangban: 22?!

Min-hee’s chatter didn’t bother me.

What did concern me was Melon Musk’s reaction in the top-left corner. His face, initially neutral, had turned into a frown.

“...This isn’t good.”

I needed to pivot.

“Let me share some stories about hunting monsters. I’m pretty skilled at it—though not a hunter, I specialize in dealing with creatures. What should I start with? The Spider? The Dancer?”

Melon’s expression softened slightly at the mention of monsters.

But then:

gijayangban: Senior?

“...Should I just do some beatboxing?”

As soon as I mentioned beatboxing, the screen abruptly went black.

[That’s all for today!]

Melon Musk abruptly cut off my live stream.

His face reappeared at the center of the screen as he pointed a finger at the camera, passionately voicing his disapproval.

“What was that? Are you a terrorist or something? Why use a voice modulator? Are you more famous than me? And if you’re going for a concept, at least make it entertaining!

You droned on with a boring monologue that no one asked for, and just when it was starting to get interesting, you veered off into beatboxing? Of course, you’re disqualified!”

Melon Musk wasn’t the only one upset.

The chilly atmosphere was palpable in the chat.

coral8103: What the...

XD_Grrrrr: What did I just watch?

dongtanmom: Yum yum... lol

Anonymous458: Seriously, this is embarrassing on a national level.

Anonymous13: Can’t we filter out boring stuff like this beforehand?

L-V-R-M: Cosmic waste of bandwidth.

COOKIEMONTER123: Skelton...

unicorn18: God, stop pretending to know him, seriously...

mmmmmmmmm: Hey! Skelton, you got the innkeeper to shut down!

Zebusika: Trash.

Ballantine: Oh dear...

gijayangban: lol

"..."

Well, it wasn’t like I had high expectations for the live stream anyway.

It was just something I tried on a whim.

[Message from Ballantine: Shall we begin?]

In the end, the outcome would be decided by the election.

VIVABOT014: As announced, we’ll now begin the voting process.

Click on the candidate of your choice. Oh, and PaleNet users, you can’t vote, so don’t bother trying. Seriously, have some integrity.

The voting process was simple.

[Would you like to vote for SKELTON?]

Click.

I needed to repeat this process 150 times.

The other 150 votes would be handled by Ballantine.

Here’s hoping for a good result.

“...Click.”

*

The Next Day

Judgment day had arrived.

Today would determine who would wear the armband and lead the board. Depending on the outcome, the board could either thrive under a savior or crumble under the whims of a tyrant.

The result was known only to VivaBot.

Unlike its usual lazy and half-hearted demeanor, VivaBot arrived precisely on time.

VIVABOT014: Hello, Korean board friends! We’re now going to announce the results of the Korean board moderator election that started yesterday.

I hunched over, took a deep breath, and steadied myself.

Follow current novels on ƒreewebηoveℓ.com.

My heart was beating a little faster.

It meant I had high hopes for this armband.

mmmmmmmmm: (Armband) Captain M9 speaking!

For some reason, M9 was already acting like he’d won.

He wasn’t the only one.

dongtanmom: Yum... lol

Dongtanmom was smugly flaunting his confidence.

SKELTON: Hm...

Who would be the one to claim the armband?

Although we couldn’t see it, it felt like everyone’s eyes were glued to VivaBot’s words.

Amid the rare and eerie silence, VivaBot’s message appeared in the chat.

VIVABOT014: The results are a bit unexpected...? Anyway, let’s announce them.

VIVABOT014: Viva! Apocalypse! The highly anticipated moderator for the Korean board is...

"..."

unicorn18: Hooeee~

VIVABOT014: Drumroll, please...

"...!!"

VIVABOT014: SKELTON!