Kang Han-min.

    He is one of Jang Ki-young’s disciples, just like me.

    Though not an exceptionally talented hunter, he was incredibly lucky—luck that saved his life on the battlefield.

    His call sign, “Fool” (FOOL), meaning an idiot or clown, was given to him by none other than Jang Ki-young, who harbored a deep dislike for him.

    Kang Han-min experienced the largest recorded Alpha Awakening during the final defense of Changping District in Beijing, which was the central defense line. He became one of the first Awakened.

    Na Hye-in.

    She had two mentors: Ko Jong-beom, who defected to China, and Jo Doo-hong, who showed little interest in the school’s internal power struggles.

    Even as a student, she stood out as an exceptional hunter, capable of excelling in long-range, mid-range, and close-combat roles—a true jack of all trades.

    Her call sign, “Alpha One,” was given to her by Jo Doo-hong, who lacked any literary sensibility and preferred rigid, military-style command structures.

    Na Hye-in, along with Kang Han-min, was one of the two key figures in what the Chinese called the “Double Alpha Awakening” during the battle at Changping.@@@@

    Their exact Awakening levels remain unknown, but it is widely accepted that no other Awakened matched their strength.

    There were rumors of an incredibly powerful Awakened in East Africa, but the chaotic state of the battlefield and their disappearance amidst monster waves left Kang Han-min and Na Hye-in as the strongest Awakened up to the end of the war—a status that likely still holds.

    Unicorn18 might be one of them.

    The fact that Unicorn18 possesses the “Golden Fleece” and speaks fluent Korean points more toward Kang Han-min.

    I once saw him typing bizarre posts on a shared computer in our dormitory cafeteria.

    It wasn’t just the infamous elephant incident.

    After that, I stumbled upon more posts left by Kang Han-min on the shared cafeteria computer. From what I can remember, here are a few examples:

    Kang Han-nam: “Eat this, and you’ll make 10 billion won.”

    (A picture of a cute cat with fake burger buns above and below its face.)

    Kang Han-nam: “The life of an Alpha Male.”

    (A convenience store clerk asking a handsome man for his contact information.)

    Kang Han-nam: “Call me an idiot in the comments, and I’ll do something drastic.”

    (A clear attempt to bait insulting replies.)

    At first, I couldn’t understand why he wrote such posts, but over time, I found myself strangely addicted to reading them. Toward the end of my dormitory life, I would even sneak peeks at his posts whenever he wasn’t around.

    Na Hye-in, unlike Kang Han-min, barely used the internet.

    She was so unskilled with computers that she often had to ask her junior, Woo Min-hee, for help with simple tasks like printing documents.

    Woo Min-hee would always oblige with a cheerful smile but never missed an opportunity to tease her.

    “Senior, how can you not even know how to do this~?”

    The dormitory life was monotonous, and with the cafeteria computer being the only place with internet access, even Na Hye-in would occasionally sit down to use it.

    I once pretended to pass by while sneaking a glance at her screen. She was mostly reading Chinese news websites.

    Unlike me, she was fluent in Chinese and had a strong interest in Chinese current affairs.

    From my perspective, Unicorn18 is more likely to be Kang Han-min than Na Hye-in.

    But that’s not the real problem.

    The real question is whether Unicorn18 is truly Kang Han-min.

    The “Golden Fleece” they possess could very well be a fake.

    Before the appearance of the Awakened, there were frequent rumors in our hunter community about fake Golden Fleeces being made.

    Self-proclaimed “Hunter Enthusiasts” would often create imitations of equipment for cosplay, including counterfeit Golden Fleeces.

    What’s more, Unicorn18’s Golden Fleece hasn’t even been verified by VivaBot yet.

    It’s entirely possible that Unicorn18 is a fraud.

    I considered the likelihood of Unicorn18 being a scammer more plausible than them being Kang Han-min.

    To confirm, I contacted Da-jeong.

    “Can I ask you for a favor?”

    “Sure. Want me to come over?”

    “No need. Do you know Unicorn18?”

    “Oh, that guy.”

    “I want to figure out who he really is.”

    “Why? He’s just an otaku troll. He doesn’t even seem interested in real communication.”

    As expected, reaching out to Da-jeong was a wise choice. Her years of experience in online communities, stretching back to elementary school, made her a treasure trove of knowledge.

    I asked her what she meant by a “troll not interested in communication.”

    It didn’t make sense to me.

    A troll, by definition, seeks attention through disruptive behavior. How could such a troll not want to communicate?

    “That’s the thing, Skelton,” Da-jeong explained with her usual internet philosophy.

    “They want to shout at a crowd of strangers and make them look their way. But they don’t want to build personal connections with those strangers. Do you get it?”

    “Hmm.”

    Honestly, I didn’t.

    “...”

    “On most boards, a post-to-comment ratio of 1:1 is considered odd. A ratio of 1:2 is a bit eccentric, but the normal cutoff is 1:4. Anything beyond that, people start calling you a weirdo.”

    “There’s research on this?”

    “It’s common knowledge on large forums. People generally agree that anyone with a 1:1 ratio isn’t normal.”

    “And Unicorn is at 20:1?”

    “Exactly. He’s not just odd—he’s something else entirely.”

    Da-jeong concluded with certainty:

    “That’s why I called him a troll who doesn’t want communication. Even when people comment on his posts, he doesn’t care. There’s something seriously off about him.”

    For reference, Defender’s ratio was a perfect 1:1. Mine was 1:12—still higher than normal but nowhere near Unicorn18’s. Based on internet standards, Defender’s sister concluded that Unicorn18 wasn’t a “normal” user.

    And honestly, based on his posts, she was right.

    Unicorn18 wasn’t your average forum user.

    Unicorn18: "Red Archive Touching Scenes Compilation.jpg"

    Unicorn18: "Rest in Peace, Beloved VTubers.rip"

    Unicorn18: "My little one... has grown... again..."

    Unicorn18: "Check if you have toilet paper before you poop."

    Unicorn18: "I hate eating the same meal three times a day... "

    Unicorn18: "Any decent gals around? (looks around)"

    Half of Unicorn18''s posts were like a diary, another half were about animation, and the rest were too absurdly crude to look at without cringing.

    But as I sifted through thousands of Unicorn’s posts, one realization struck me: this guy is meticulous.

    When you write thousands of posts, you''d expect glimpses of personal details to slip through. Yet Unicorn18 managed to write all that without revealing even a fragment of their real identity.

    “...”

    The Unicorn18 I had dismissed as just a clown suddenly felt different.

    To write so much while stripping away all traces of “self” seemed, as Da-jeong put it, almost inhuman.

    Maybe the secret was that, like me, Unicorn didn’t crave attention at all. But even so, Unicorn never mentioned daily struggles or petty inconveniences.

    His posts lacked any semblance of "humanity."

    The only slightly personal thing might be his cryptic references to a “little one growing stiff,” but that wasn’t a rabbit hole I wanted to explore.

    “I combed through the Jeju board,” Defender said, sending me a link. “Unicorn only posted once there.”

    I clicked the link and read Unicorn’s lone post on PaleNet’s Jeju Island board.

    Unicorn18: "Sky.sky"

    The title was uncharacteristically poetic for Unicorn18.

    The post contained nothing but a single photo:

    A vast, open field blurred out of focus, under a blue sky tinged with streaks of a crimson sunset. At the center of the frame, the camera’s focus rested on a lone cosmos flower blooming in a barren gravel field.

    Seeing that cosmos, I unconsciously murmured a name:

    “Na Hye-in?”

    I hadn’t interacted much with her, nor did we share any meaningful connection. The only thing that tied us was the cosmos flower.

    That fact likely mattered little to either of us.

    “Hey,” I asked Da-jeong.

    “Yeah?”

    “Do you think someone who barely used the internet could suddenly turn into a troll like Unicorn18?”

    “Who knows?”

    “Why not?”

    “There’ve always been cases of seemingly normal people acting bizarrely online. Even guys pretending to be girls—that’s been happening since 20 years ago.”

    Defender, who had been quietly listening, chimed in:

    “Skelton, do you think Unicorn might be someone you know?”

    There was no need to lie here.

    “...It’s possible.”

    “People change,” Defender said. “Take Jung-chul, the guy I live with—”

    “Please kick him out already!” Da-jeong interjected, but Defender just laughed it off and continued.

    “When we were in China, he was a fiery patriot. Once, he even pointed a gun at our team leader for suggesting we abandon wounded comrades and retreat.

    Now? He’s practically a butcher. Back in school, during dissection classes, he used to shake so much he’d fail every exam.”

    “Really?”

    “Yeah, people change. You, Skelton—you weren’t always like this when you first joined Viva! Apocalypse!”

    His words struck a nerve.

    It was true. Since the start of the war, I had undergone immense changes—so much so that anyone who once knew me likely wouldn’t recognize me now.

    Maybe that was why Woo Min-hee didn’t recognize me; the gulf between who I was as “Professor” and who I became as “Skelton (post-apocalypse)” was like a chasm spanning galaxies.

    But speculation alone wouldn’t uncover the truth.

    To find the truth, I would have to confront Unicorn18—the problematic individual with a post-to-comment ratio of 20:1. There was no other way.