I had a dream, something I hadn’t experienced in a long time.

    As someone who strives for short, perfect sleep without interruptions, dreaming felt like a humiliating anomaly. Still, the dream itself was intriguing.

    In the dream, Park Gyu wasn’t preparing for the future in Korea but in the United States.

    He had easy access to firearms and built a colossal fortress deep in the vast wilderness—one that could rival the estates of billionaire conglomerates.

    From the tallest tower of this fortress, he shot down invading Yankees, cowboys, superheroes, and even a deranged mouse. With an eighteen-wheeled trailer, he crushed monsters under its weight, and somehow, he ended up dining with the President of the United States.

    At the climax of the dream, I was about to say something to the President.

    But no words came out.

    I knew what I wanted to say, but I wasn’t familiar with his language, and doubts about whether my phrasing was correct stopped me from speaking.

    In that moment, I realized I was a stranger in that land. That realization deflated me, and I woke up.

    There’s nothing more to add or subtract.

    It was a pointless dream—a strange yet entertaining one.

    Still, the dream’s setting and events felt like a hazy glimpse into my future.

    Thinking about the people I would soon meet gave me that impression.

    Lately, gunfire has become more frequent.

    The pattern suggests it’s not a battle, as the shots are one-sided, but the frequency is unnervingly high.

    Could something have gone wrong?

    It doesn’t feel like the right time to make contact, so I’ve just been observing, though a sense of worry looms over me.

    Perhaps these repeated gunshots aren’t just about intruders—they could be signs of growing madness.

    It’s already been two years since the war began.

    That’s more than enough time for someone to lose their sanity.

    The sniper had always asked me for drugs.

    But what drug could possibly fill the void in her empty heart?

    Maybe if there were some kind of magical cure-all...

    But where would I even begin to find such a "magic drug"?

    *

    Reputation is everything.

    Even now, people on the forum were searching for Kyle Dos.

    Anonymous848: Kyle Dos! Are you alive? Where are you?

    Anonymous458: Kyle Dos! I’m sorry, man. I made fun of you when they said you’d be a webtoon protagonist. Please forgive me and come back!

    Today, DragonC uploaded the latest chapter of Remnant.

    It depicted the final story of Kyle Dos, fighting desperately to protect his wife from invading deserters.

    In the climactic moment, realizing he couldn’t win, he held his wife’s hand and shared one last kiss before pulling the pin on a grenade as the enemies stormed into the bunker.

    BOOM!

    An explosive ending.

    The response was overwhelming.

    Anonymous458: ??

    roka3218: ??

    keystone: ??

    THE_LAST_MAN: ??

    Anonymous848: ??

    kimcic: ??

    gijayangban: ??

    Defender: ??

    James_Catterer: TT

    James_Catterer: Can somebody translate this to English? :)

    Everyone cried over their keyboards.

    Even Defender.

    But not me. Not me and one other person.

    SKELTON: Hmm...

    unicorn18: Was she a virgin?

    Objectively speaking, we were the perfect pair to hate on.

    One was a humorless buzzkill, Defender’s so-called "friend." The other—a lunatic who had lost it a year into the apocalypse, turning into the literal unicorn his nickname implied.

    Anonymous848: Skelton, don’t you think that’s a bit much?

    Anonymous458: Bad choice of persona this time, buddy.

    DragonC: Skelton?

    roka3218: ...

    kimcic: Here he goes again with his “Hmm.” That’s all he ever says.

    As expected, the backlash came in full force.

    Oddly enough, though, it felt like I was the only one being targeted.

    Even Defender, who usually had no shame, messaged me privately.

    Message from Defender: (Gasp) Skelton... are you a psychopath?

    Though I was unjustly labeled, I stood by my convictions.

    Even if Seoul falls, there will always be people who choose to live there.

    Seoul’s value will only rise—it’ll never diminish.

    Even as ruins, everything needed for survival lies beneath its foundations.

    If erosion ever reaches my region, abandoning my bunker might be an option.

    By then, there wouldn’t be many people left wandering around South Korea.

    The most dangerous enemy would have disappeared.

    Bang!

    Why are humans the most terrifying enemy?

    The answer lay with the raiders who had encroached on the sniper’s territory.

    Bang!

    About 1.2 kilometers away from her building, a group of raiders had camped on a ridge.

    Two naked men dashed across the ridge like moles popping in and out of a whack-a-mole game.

    Running naked in the middle of winter seemed insane, but they had a reason.

    They were mocking the sniper.

    Bang!

    No matter how skilled a sniper she was, hitting fast-moving targets at 1.2 kilometers wasn’t easy.

    Each time a shot rang out in vain, the naked men raised their fists or flipped her the bird, taunting her.

    From below the ridge came peals of laughter from their group.

    Bang!

    Another irritated shot cut through the air, but the bullet vanished into the void.

    “...”

    From a distance, this might seem like dark comedy.

    But to the person involved, it was extreme psychological warfare.

    Imagine predators circling a hedgehog, observing it, scheming about how best to kill and eat it.

    They weren’t attacking outright. Instead, they were wearing down their prey’s nerves, tormenting her until she broke.

    “Yah-ha!”

    One of the men leaped onto the ridge, spreading his arms wide and screaming like a lunatic.

    Bang!

    The sniper fired again, but before the bullet even reached him, the naked raider darted behind cover.

    Bang!

    This time, the shot found its mark.

    “Yeehaw!”

    Even as blood sprayed from his wound, the man howled gleefully and dove behind cover. The laughter from the group grew even louder.

    Only humans could do this.

    Only humans could deliberately kill their own kind with such clear intent.

    Monsters lack that purpose.

    That’s why, despite their overwhelming strength, I rank them below humans in danger.

    Circling around, I approached the sniper’s building.

    Three corpses lay frozen at my feet, their armbands marking them as pioneers.

    Judging by their state of decay, they’d likely been dead since autumn, when the pioneers had been most active.

    “...”

    She didn’t even have time to clean up the bodies.

    I remembered her constant pleas for drugs.

    Perhaps she was at her breaking point.

    With this in mind, I waved toward her building.

    A mirror flashed from above, signaling in Morse code.

    “Wait.”

    I stood still, waiting grimly for whoever would meet me.

    It wasn’t the sniper.

    Instead, her daughter appeared.

    Children grow so fast—it was striking how much taller she was since the last time I saw her.

    Yet, the military helmet on her head still seemed oversized, and the rifle slung over her shoulder looked even more out of place.

    “Skelton.”

    She gazed at me with a troubled expression.

    Her face alone was enough to show the toll of stress.

    While she wasn’t malnourished, she wasn’t thriving either.

    “Let’s go.”

    I didn’t offer words of comfort.

    What they needed wasn’t solace—it was a solution.

    That’s why I was here.

    But no matter what, I wouldn’t hand over drugs.

    After all, drugs aren’t short for "magic medicine."