Hiding a House in the Apocalypse-Chapter 93.6: The Man from Jeju (6)

The way people succumb to the erosion zones is almost always the same.

They grow quiet.

They lose their energy.

They sit there, frozen in place, staring blankly into the distance—like plants.

Then, one day, they just disappear.

No one knows where the ones who’ve lost their minds to the madness of erosion go.

Some say they wander off to die alone, like elephants seeking their graveyards.

Others claim they’re drawn to even deeper erosion zones, their bodies taken by whatever force governs those cursed lands.

But from what I’ve seen firsthand, those who succumb to erosion literally disappear.

Like some twisted version of the "Rapture" that doomsday fanatics used to preach about, they vanish without a trace, as if they never existed at all.

I witnessed this countless times with my team in China.

One case stands out—a man who disappeared from a high-rise building.

Kim Daram, interpreting the sobbing words of a Chinese man, told me about the eerie disappearance of his wife.

"She was there yesterday. The elevator was broken, the emergency staircase was barricaded. The only way up or down was a ladder through a collapsed ceiling—one that they only set up when necessary. But in a sealed-off 23rd-floor apartment, she vanished. No sign of a fall. No trace of an escape."

It wasn’t as dramatic as someone dissolving into smoke while chained to a wall, but it was proof enough.

The fact that monsters—heralds of erosion—leave no corpses only adds weight to this theory.

Hong Jong-beom was locked in a room identical to the one I’d seen in Woo Min-hee’s place.

The boy who had once followed me so fervently now sat at a desk, dressed in nothing but a yellowed undershirt and boxer shorts.

The room was hot. Stifling.

His lifeless eyes stared into nothingness.

"Jong-beom."

I called his name.

No response.

I didn’t call it a second time.

Even calling it once was out of character for me.

Because the moment I saw him, I knew—

Hong Jong-beom had been consumed by the madness of erosion.

"When did this start?"

I asked the girl standing beside him.

"This morning, probably. Definitely not last night—he was running around, bragging, excited about everything."

Around his neck hung a crude necklace—

A bullet, strung through a hole like a makeshift dog tag.

The very same bullet I had given him.

The one that said:

"PROFESSOR."

"······."

I turned around and left.

The children stared at me in shock.

"Aren’t you going to do something?"

I shook my head.

There was nothing left to do.

Once someone lost to erosion, there was no coming back.

Not even the son of China’s highest-ranking official could be saved from it.

Who could possibly cure this madness?

As I walked into the hallway, I saw Jeong Ho-kyung approaching.

We exchanged brief nods before he entered the room.

Through the open door, I heard his voice—desperate, pleading.

"Jong-beom! Jong-beom! Snap out of it! Is this all you’ve got?! You said you’d build your career here and go to Jeju to become a scholar! You’re the tallest, the biggest—if you break down like this, what about the others?! Get up! Jong-beom!"

His voice was emotional. Almost theatrically so.

I walked away.

"Does this happen often?"

I asked a well-dressed boy walking beside me.

Maybe it was because he came from a different background, but he answered without much concern.

"Yeah. Happens every eruption season."

*

Two major events awaited me.

One: the lighting of the lighthouse.

Two: my departure.

Clatter. Clatter.

The cafeteria was oddly quiet today.

Only the sounds of metal utensils scraping against plates.

A special meal had been served.

The same supplies I had unloaded from the helicopter were now on the tables.

"Eat up! If you need °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° more, just say so!"

Jeong Ho-kyung himself was ladling generous portions of stew onto the children’s plates.

"What matters is our spirit! We can’t let the Rifts win! Kang Han-min and Na Hye-in’s expedition has nearly sealed the Rift! Just a little longer! Once they finish, they’ll come to Seoul! Just hold on until then! Think of your parents! If you don’t have parents, think of your siblings! If you don’t have those, think about tomorrow’s special meal!"

His voice was filled with exaggerated passion, his gestures overly dramatic.

The children’s blank stares made it clear they weren’t impressed.

But one thing was certain—Jeong Ho-kyung had tied his fate to this lighthouse.

"······."

I didn’t like him.

And I had no intention of getting along with him.

But I wouldn’t deny his strengths.

After the meal, Jeong Ho-kyung gathered the lighthouse members on the walls.

A full platoon of soldiers, who had been invisible until now, took their positions along the perimeter.

I joined them on the wall and peered down.

And there, among the swarming zombies—

I saw something familiar.

A Caterpillar.

It struggled against the sheer walls, unable to climb.

"What’s that?"

Feigning ignorance, I asked.

"Not sure. Started showing up in the spring. Seems like a monster, but it’s not hostile, so we just watch it."

This lighthouse might be considered exile, but its equipment said otherwise.

By midday, soldiers launched a large reconnaissance drone from the hexagonal structure.

Whirrrr—

Not as loud as a helicopter, but powerful enough to generate a significant downdraft.

The drone rose into the sky and shot southeast.

It had begun.

Jeong Ho-kyung called me over.

"This is the best seat in the house."

At the center of the hexagonal structure stood a small watchtower.

The materials and design suggested it had been built by South Korea, not the North.

Just as he said, from here, the entire honeycomb-like structure was visible at a glance.

Pride radiated from Jeong Ho-kyung’s face.

"Soon, we’ll light the beacon of the lighthouse."

"I’m looking forward to it."

Jeong Ho-kyung turned to me.

"I don’t intend for this lighthouse to be a one-time trick. Or a temporary measure."

I remained silent.

"I want Kaesong Lighthouse to be a permanent beacon—a test model for luring monsters. Once we seal the Jeju Rift and the Paju Rift, we’ll turn this entire peninsula into a bulwark against monsters."

"······."

"Imagine it—every other country has fallen, but South Korea stands as the last nation, a sanctuary for humanity!"

"That’s... impressive."

I gave him the most half-hearted praise possible.

Honestly?

I wasn’t sure what to think.

According to the reports, this lighthouse serves its purpose.

But is it sustainable?

If you ask me, the answer is no.

This lighthouse is built within an erosion zone.

Losses like Hong Jong-beom will continue.

But how common are Awakened who can generate a wave?

They couldn’t even muster enough numbers with South Korean kids alone—so they pulled in North Korean kids. And if my suspicions are correct, even children of fanatics.

They scraped together everyone they could to reach this number.

With the human population dwindling, and people dying constantly in this age of destruction, how long can they realistically maintain this level of manpower?

"What?!"

It seems there's a problem.

"Damn it! Why is that showing up?! There's nothing blocking the way! Doesn't it only appear in kill zones?!"

Jeong Ho-kyung's face turned pale as he shouted into the radio.

A moment later, he lowered the receiver.

"...Looks like we’ll have to delay lighting the beacon."

"Is there a problem?"

"Three Kraken-types have appeared."

"Colossal-class monsters?"

"Yeah. And it’s ridiculous. Colossal-class never show up unless there’s a kill zone or a barrier, but the Rift must be acting up—it just spat out three of them."

"So, even this lighthouse can't stop a Colossal-class?"

Kraken-types are natural disasters.

Their twin death beams sweep across the land like the light of a lighthouse, disintegrating anything alive in their path.

Sure, the honeycomb structure might hold up against lower-tier monsters.

But it has no way to stop a Kraken-type’s annihilation beam.

It doesn’t just destroy matter—it phases through objects and eradicates living beings only.

"Yeah, it’s dangerous. There is a way to block it, but it’s not fully tested."

"You have a method?"

"Yes."

I nearly tilted my head.

An unexpected piece of new information.

Blocking a Kraken-type's beam?

How?

"There’s a lead-lined chamber here. Probably a Kraken-class shelter built for North Korea’s top officials."

"A lead room?"

"Yeah. The annihilation beam is crazy strong, but even it can’t penetrate 1,200mm of solid lead."

"...That’s hard to believe."

I attempted a pun.

"I can’t ‘lead’ myself to believe that."

But he didn’t even flinch.

"We're skeptical too. But a North Korean defector claims they tested it—on political prisoners. And it worked."

Jeong Ho-kyung smiled bitterly.

"Still, the lead chamber should be a last resort. We’ll decide when to light the beacon after tracking the Kraken-types. They’re slow, so we have time."

*

That evening, I received an unsettling report.

Hong Jong-beom had vanished.

Unlike what I expected, he didn’t simply disappear.

Jeong Ho-kyung showed me the security footage.

The boy, who had been sitting frozen like a plant, suddenly bolted out of his room.

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He sprinted down the hallway—

And then...

The recording cut off.

Even after organizing a search party, they found no trace of him.

WEEEOOOOHHH——

A siren blared at dawn.

Jeong Ho-kyung’s voice rang through the PA system.

"Park Gyu, report to the command room. Park Gyu, report to the command room."

It was clear something serious had happened.

When I arrived at the command center, I immediately knew my instinct was right.

Everyone’s faces were pale.

Jeong Ho-kyung opened his mouth.

"A Kraken-type is heading straight for us!"

A typhoon was coming.

Straight toward this lighthouse.

"Drone recon confirms it will reach the lighthouse in 1 hour and 30 minutes! Estimated dissipation is also in 1 hour and 30 minutes, but as you know, Kraken-types..."

Kraken-types are siege weapons.

They trudge forward with their massive, stumpy legs—slow, but unstoppable.

Anything in their path?

Obliterated by their death beams.

Back in my prime, the prevailing theory was that Kraken-types didn’t have actual intelligence.

They didn’t target anything specifically.

They just moved forward, erasing life in their way.

But even so, they were devastatingly dangerous.

Their beam range was too vast.

And once you were in range, you couldn’t escape.

A 1.2km range.

A 10-meter-wide death beam sweeping across the ground in a crisscross pattern.

If you got caught in it?

Your only option was to pray to God.

The only way to survive was distance.

Like when I evacuated Rebecca and Sue with a buggy—we outran it.

But this lighthouse isn’t mobile.

Against normal monsters?

It’s impregnable.

But once a Kraken-type enters range?

This place is doomed.

Just one pass of that beam could wipe out everyone inside.

"...We need to head to the lead chamber."

Jeong Ho-kyung's expression turned strange.

He was shaking with fear, yet he also looked deeply conflicted—as if he hated what he was about to say.

"There’s... one issue."

His eyelids twitched.

"There are capsules in front of the lead chamber."

"I see."

"And... there are a lot of them. Too many. We need someone to clear them out..."

He trailed off—

But he was looking straight at me.

"······."

So that’s how it is.

The atmosphere was suffocating.

I could feel the weight of countless expectant stares.

I finally opened my mouth.

"Then I’ll clear them out."

My voice was sharp.

It wasn’t about whether I liked Jeong Ho-kyung or not.

It wasn’t about annoyance.

I simply couldn’t understand.

Why had no one done anything about this before now?