Three years have passed since the war began.

    The current temperature is -10°C.

    In the old days, such weather would have dominated the headlines with news about thermal underwear sales skyrocketing and warnings about power shortages. By today’s standards, though, it’s practically warm.

    For the first time in a while, I stepped outside to shake out my bedding and air it in the sunlight. Sipping on hot instant coffee, I surveyed the snow-blanketed wilderness surrounding me.

    As always, it was an unchanging wasteland.

    The stillness made it feel like time had frozen, a delusion broken only by the occasional sighting of a wild animal.

    While the winter sunlight seeped into every corner of my bedding, I patrolled the perimeter to check its condition. After completing my rounds, I attached a trailer to the back of my motorcycle and headed down toward the valley.

    Due to the frigid temperatures, the valley’s water had turned to solid ice. I pulled out the electric drill from the trailer, bore holes into the ice, and used a mallet and chisel to break it into manageable chunks. Then, I hooked the chunks with a chain and hauled them into the trailer.

    These massive ice blocks would serve as my water supply for the day.

    Although the water tank in my bunker had insulation to prevent freezing, the pipes drawing groundwater into the tank had succumbed to the subzero temperatures. As a result, I had to manually replenish my water supply each morning.@@@@

    Lately, I’ve taken to listening to the radio while working. I flip between various frequencies, but my favorite is the Legion’s official broadcast.

    It’s got music, stories, and a pleasant voice narrating it all.

    "The weather is relatively mild today. According to the Meteorological Unit, this warm spell is expected to last about four days. Ah, how I miss the days of ‘three cold, four warm.’

    "When I think of winter, I’m reminded of cold noodles paired with savory pancakes. I used to enjoy a bowl at this North Korean defector’s restaurant in Dongdaemun Market, rather than the so-called ‘Big Three Noodle Houses.’"

    I don’t know who oversees the Legion’s propaganda, but they seem remarkably polished.

    Instead of criticizing the Incheon government, they focus on subtly flaunting their wealth and comfort.

    Listening to these broadcasts makes the horrors described on PaleNet about Incheon feel like tales from a distant land.

    In Incheon, it’s no longer just protests; random shootouts occur regularly.

    It’s not the military fighting civilians but civilians shooting each other indiscriminately.

    Corpses litter the streets, and fires from burning bodies light up the cityscape.

    It’s the “war of all against all” I once witnessed on Seoul’s outskirts, now playing out in Incheon.

    Perhaps the collapse of hope has eroded the last shreds of humanity’s patience.

    That hope was shattered the moment Jeju Island—the so-called “Island of Salvation”—was exposed as a mirage.

    Although the city’s security is barely holding, PaleNet posts paint a precarious picture.

    ??: “I’m young and pretty. Is there anyone who can take me in? (Photo included).”

    ??: “Former idol trainee. Only looking for those with bunkers.”

    ??: “I used to model. Is there someone who can come get me?”

    MinjaePapa: “I’m so sorry to ask this, but is there anyone who can save my family? I’ll serve you for the rest of my life! Please, I beg you!”

    ??: “I’m a former actress.”

    People are selling themselves.

    Even on our doomsday survivalist board—once the most mocked and despised community in Korea.

    Lately, it’s made me reluctant to post anything.

    SKELTON: (Skelton yawns) “Haaaah~”

    Even this frivolous post prompted replies like:

    MinjaePapa: “Skelton, where are you? I’m the father of a seven-year-old. My wife and child are dying. Please, I’m begging you—save my family! I’ll do anything you ask!”

    It’s not just me.

    Keystone: “We’re a family of four—me, my wife, son, and daughter. We’re good people. If you take us in, we’ll more than earn our keep!”

    ??: “Anonymous458, where are you? Is your bunker close? How big is it? Do you have enough food?”

    ??: “Foxgames, I’m sorry to ask, but where do you live? It’s so scary here. Could you please take my family in?”

    Our board has become a haven for desperate PaleNet refugees to beg for salvation, calling out usernames like lifelines.

    Of course, there are exceptions:

    MMMMMMMMMM: (The Hope: Now accepting new residents) “Come on in~ Oiso~ Irasshaimase~”

    DongtanMom: “Yum...”

    But they are rare.

    The overall atmosphere is so desolate and oppressive that it’s becoming impossible to post anything.

    Frankly, it’s disgusting.

    Did John Nae-non foresee this future when he connected our board to PaleNet?

    CLUNK!

    A thick slab of ice broke loose.

    I hooked it with a chain and hauled it onto the trailer.

    THUD!

    No, I doubt John Nae-non anticipated this.

    Unicorn18: “Enough already!”

    For someone like Unicorn18—who seemed like they’d never care about anything, even during a war—it was shocking to see him lash out.

    Unicorn18: “What is this? A refugee board?! Take your pathetic, filthy stories somewhere else! Why do we have to be responsible for your lives?”

    Even a broken clock is right twice a day.

    I couldn’t help but add my voice to his righteous outburst.

    SKELTON: (Skelton angry) “Exactly! I wholeheartedly support Unicorn18’s statement!”

    But the tide was unstoppable.

    Unicorn18’s cries were buried beneath an avalanche of even more desperate posts.

    ??: “Skelton, I’m begging you! I have a car—just tell me your location!”

    SKELTON: “My child is dying! If you don’t help, they’ll die!”

    ??: “I swear on my life, I’ve never lied. Skelton, please—just help my family survive this winter. I’ll do anything!”

    This couldn’t go on.

    Our board was meant to prepare for disaster—sharing wisdom and resources to face the apocalypse. It wasn’t supposed to become a space where strangers screamed for salvation.

    “Skelton, doesn’t the board feel so tainted these days?” Da-jeong said, clearly fed up.

    “I think I’m going to take a break. I’ll focus on prepping for live content instead. Want to help?”

    “No, I can’t appear in live broadcasts.”

    SKELTON: “Yes.”

    VIVA_BOTO14: “Why don’t you create some content for us? Maybe then I’ll tell you.”

    SKELTON: “Content? Like what?”

    VIVA_BOTO14: “You’re one of the twelve holders of the legendary Golden Fleece. Why not record yourself taking down a Mutation? It would help improve the quality of the live broadcast.”

    SKELTON: “And if I do?”

    VIVA_BOTO14: “Block PaleNet? Sure. Why not?”

    “......”

    This Woman, She’s Something Else

    Could she possibly be an AI?

    No, she’s human—I saw her with my own eyes.

    Taking a deep breath, I calmed myself and asked her another question.

    SKELTON: “I’ll think about it. Hunting, I mean. So who was it? Who else contacted you about this issue?”

    Promises are made to be broken.

    But—

    VIVA_BOTO14: “Unicorn18.”

    “Huh?”

    The answer caught me completely off guard.

    “Unicorn18...?”

    Unicorn18 wasn’t your average user.

    Their position in the community was similar to mine—lurking at the bottom of the boards.

    They’d post incessantly about obscure anime no one cared about or ask bizarre, borderline absurd questions about finding pure women in a world where violence was as routine as breathing.

    At one point, they even tried buttering me up with sycophantic nonsense.

    But that same Unicorn18 was messaging VivaBot?

    Surely, this had to be some kind of mistake.

    I checked the spelling.

    It was correct.

    It really was Unicorn18.

    Reeling from the shock, I asked VivaBot again to confirm.

    SKELTON: “Unicorn18? Seriously?”

    VIVA_BOTO14: “Yes, seriously. Why do you sound so skeptical?”

    SKELTON: “That user? Sending you messages? Come on, they’re just a troll.”

    VIVA_BOTO14: “That’s what I thought once, too. But you really don’t know?”

    SKELTON: “Know what?”

    VIVA_BOTO14: “Unicorn18 is a Golden Fleece holder.”

    SKELTON: “...What?”

    VIVA_BOTO14: “Are you serious? You really don’t know each other?”

    I felt like I’d been punched in the back of the head.

    Unicorn18, a Golden Fleece holder?

    The Golden Fleece, the ultimate proof of being an S-class Hunter, was limited to just twelve in existence.

    Three of those were allocated to South Korea.

    One was mine.

    The other two went to Kang Han-min and Na Hye-in.

    In other words, they were also S-class Hunters.

    Before their appearance, the concept of the “Awakened” didn’t even exist.

    You could call it a kind of grandfather clause.

    Shortly after Kang Han-min and Na Hye-in received their Golden Fleeces, the Hunter system was overhauled, and both the Golden Fleece and the S-class Hunter designation vanished like a mirage.

    And yet here was Unicorn18—a user I knew well from the boards—holding one.

    SKELTON: “What’s Unicorn18’s real name? Is it Kang? A relative of Kang Han-min?”

    VIVA_BOTO14: “Nope. During their first live stream, they just flashed the Golden Fleece for a second and started acting so weird that we blocked them for 24 hours. I don’t know their name, face, or even their gender.”

    Two possibilities came to mind.

    Either Unicorn18’s Golden Fleece was real, or it was fake.

    If it were real, then their identity narrowed down to two options:

    Kang Han-min or Na Hye-in.

    In my mind, Unicorn18 was more likely to be Kang Han-min than Na Hye-in.

    Could it really be Kang Han-min?

    Had he been on our board this entire time?

    Spending three years in the same space as me?

    My heart pounded faster.