Hiding a House in the Apocalypse-Chapter 102.3: Dystopia in Ash (3)

Jeju Island is a perfectly controlled society.

Not just the internet but even the smallest aspects of daily life fall under surveillance and regulation.

Walking through the streets, you can see security cameras ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) installed everywhere.

Ironically, those cameras were Chinese-made.

They were the same model as the notorious machines I had seen in China—capable of recognizing a person’s face and tracking their every movement.

Roll calls were conducted through those cameras. A designated spot was marked in front of each residence, and as long as a person stood within the frame, the camera would automatically register their attendance.

If someone failed to show up, a government official would visit before noon.

As suffocating as the omnipresent surveillance was, the scarcity of basic necessities was even harder to endure.

The Jeju government only provided half of what people needed.

Food and essential supplies were barely enough to scrape by, and medicine was only available in limited quantities through public health centers.

If you wanted more than your allotted rations, you needed credits—a currency recorded on the card issued at the community center. But earning those credits was no easy feat.

The only way to accumulate a significant amount was to work in combat zones or take on elite-level jobs equivalent to frontline duty.

Ordinary people had no choice but to survive on the meager rations provided.

Fortunately, my card held 948,000 credits.

Considering that a factory worker pulling two shifts a day for 10 hours only earned 15,000 credits per month, this was an immense sum.

For reference, a box of instant noodles at the market cost 10,000 credits.

I personally felt I was being treated poorly, but from the perspective of the Jeju government, this was them showing me goodwill.

However, having a fortune in credits didn't exempt me from labor.

Time slipped away as I idled in this unfamiliar environment. Before I knew it, a week had passed.

"You're Park Gyu, correct?"

I was called to the Employment Center, located next to the community office.

Like most of the government workers here, the employee in charge was a young woman—she barely looked like she was in her early twenties.

"I reviewed the résumé you submitted earlier, but... hmm... It doesn’t seem like you have any special qualifications."

"..."

I was too tired to even explain anymore.

The lucky Awakened who had taken over this island dismissed everything that Old School Hunters like me had done.

There was no point in arguing. No reason to raise my voice.

On this island, I was nothing more than an outdated relic of the past.

The employment official flipped through my file and eventually spoke.

"I searched for jobs that fit your circumstances. There's only one option left."

"Where is it?"

At that moment, our eyes met.

She hesitated, blinking rapidly.

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Was there something she was reluctant to say?

After clearing her throat, she finally answered.

"A farm."

I had nothing to say.

Instead, I pointed at a poster that I had seen earlier at the community center.

"What about that?"

It was a recruitment notice for forward base workers.

The listing promised exemptions from regular labor, education, and training, along with a free schedule and abundant food supplies.

At the time, I hadn’t paid it much attention.

But now that I was being sent off to work, it stood out to me.

The employment officer chuckled.

"It's exactly what it looks like. You'll be stationed at an outpost beyond the outer walls surrounding us. The job is simple—report any sightings of Mutations or Monsters."

Her eyes gleamed as she reviewed my file.

"You could definitely handle it, Mr. Park! If you're interested, just let me know anytime!"

At that moment, I understood something.

She knew exactly who I was and what I was capable of.

*

The farm was located within another walled-off zone, separate from the area I was assigned to.

It functioned similarly to beehives in North Korea—dividing space into sections, each dedicated to producing food and resources necessary for survival.

The concept was the same, but while North Korea’s beehives only occupied a small corner of a city, South Korea’s beehives covered nearly a third of the island.

A stark contrast in scale between the two Koreas.

I passed through the heavily reinforced walls, reportedly strong enough to withstand artillery fire, and entered the agricultural sector.

Inside, fields of lush green crops flourished—an unusual sight in Jeju.

Sprinklers spun, showering the soil with fresh water, and irrigation channels carried clean water through the farmland.

Beyond the fields, I spotted rows upon rows of greenhouses stretching into the distance.

"This is the heart of our food production," the driver explained. "There are two main food sectors, but this one has the highest output."

As I took in the rare vibrant scenery, a foul stench crept into my nose.

The stench of animal feces.

Sure enough, beyond the fields, cows and sheep lazily grazed on lush pastures.

I turned to the driver.

"Any Mutations here?"

"Oh, we manage those separately."

"Still, isn’t it dangerous?"

"Nah, we’ve got it figured out. If any livestock show signs of the Mutation Factor, we immediately isolate them and transfer them to a specialized Mutation Farm."

"A Mutation Farm, huh..."

"They're bigger, smarter, but in the end, they’re still just animals—and they taste the same," he said with a smirk. "Actually, since they're larger, a single slaughter gets us more prime cuts like ribeye."

He glanced at me and grinned.

"By the way, looks like you’ve been assigned to the Mutation Farm."

"...Is that so?"

"Yeah. Says so in your paperwork. You’re Park Gyu, right?"

"Yeah."

The driver gave me a sympathetic look.

"Well... It’s not like getting assigned to a bad place means you have to die there. You can request a transfer after a year."

Easy to say.

So easy to say.

"We’re here."

The electric vehicle stopped.

"When you leave, use the staff bus along with the other workers."

With that, he drove off.

Before me stood an immense livestock barn, easily three times the size of the others.

No guards. No workers passing by.

Just a horrific, pervasive stench.

I walked towards the entrance.

A deep, resonating hum echoed from inside.

The sound wasn't something any ordinary animal could produce.

More than likely, it was the sound of Mutations—their voices blending into an eerie, haunting chorus.

The bizarre hum continued as I ascended the stairs to the office.

Inside, a handful of workers sat at their desks.

A balding man in glasses glanced up at me and spoke bluntly.

"Who are you?"

I was shocked.

At least in his forties.

An older man.

Not just him—most of the people here were older. Some were in their fifties, even sixties.

"I'm the new hire assigned here today."

"Ah, got it. Give me a second."

The man fumbled with the computer, clearly struggling with it.

After an awkwardly long pause, he stood up.

"Ah. It’s real. We finally got a new guy."

His name was Han Chang-hee.

The manager of this livestock barn.

With a bunch of elderly workers watching, he gave me a brief orientation.

"As you can see, this is a livestock barn. But we handle... special livestock. It might be rough at first. They look like the animals you know, but they’re completely different. That said, there’s no real danger. We’ve got perfect safety measures in place."

Despite his gruff appearance, he was friendly.

I got the distinct impression that I wasn’t just a new worker to him.

I was needed.

He studied my face.

"You have a rough idea of what Mutations are, right?"

"Yeah."

"Ever seen one up close?"

"A few times."

"Good. That’s actually better."

He stood.

"Let’s go."

We walked down the corridor, and he kept talking.

"This place is actually great once you get used to it. But people always get scared when they first arrive. No need for that—it’s just livestock."

He stopped at a heavy iron door, its hatch slightly ajar.

"One last thing."

His cheerful expression vanished.

His eyes shifted—sharp and wary.

"Whatever you see in there, forget it. Whatever you hear, ignore it. Just think of it as a nightmare."

"..."

He unlocked the hatch.

A Nightmare, You Say?

Did this man know?

Did he realize that I was someone who had fled from nightmares?

Creaaak—

The hatch opened, revealing the Mutation Livestock Facility, shrouded in secrecy until now.

At first glance, it didn’t seem much different from a regular livestock barn.

A wide central corridor ran down the middle, with rows of pens on either side. Each pen contained a single animal, just like in any standard industrial farm.

It was exactly as Han Chang-hee had described—just bigger animals in a bigger barn.

"See? Not much different, right?"

Han Chang-hee led me down the stairs.

And then, it happened.

The Mutations, mostly cattle, all turned to stare at us simultaneously.

In that moment, I knew I would never forget this scene.

That it would return to haunt me in my nightmares.

Had it stopped there, I might have been fine.

But then—

Wooooooom—

The cattle groaned.

It was the same eerie hum I had heard from outside the barn.

"Tsk. This bullshit again," Han muttered. "Ignore it, Park. Just ignore it."

He kicked the metal railing.

Clang! The sharp noise echoed through the facility, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the deep, resonating voices of the giant creatures.

And the hum—

It started taking shape.

A specific shape.

"Ah, for fuck’s sake, just ignore it!" Han Chang-hee snapped.

But beyond his irritated expression, the words became unmistakably clear in my ears.

“Kill... me... please...”

“...Kill... us...”

“...Please... kill us...”

They were speaking.

The Mutations were begging us to kill them.

I could see it in their eyes.

These giant, grotesque cattle—they understood what they were saying.

Hundreds of mutated eyes locked onto us, filled with nothing but despair.

One Mutated Cow in particular captured my gaze.

Its eyes were filled with tears, dripping onto the concrete floor.

“Kill me.”

Chains pierced through its flesh, digging deep into its massive chest, fresh blood dripping onto the cold floor.

I said nothing.

That day, I applied for reassignment to the Forward Base.

*

The military vehicle rumbled up a mountain road.

I stared absentmindedly at the towering ridges of Hallasan, one of the nation’s most sacred mountains.

The officer beside me broke the silence.

"Man, you’ve got shit luck."

He gave me a pitying look.

"Of all the forward bases, you got stuck with Post 328..."

He scanned my file and frowned.

"You have no criminal record... Did you piss off someone in the upper ranks?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I mean, first they dump you at a Mutation Barn for your first assignment. Then, the moment you request a transfer, they send you to a meat grinder."

His eyes flickered strangely as he studied me.

"Doesn’t this feel like someone wants you dead?"

I had a pretty good guess who might be responsible.

Gong Gyeong-min.

We had parted on bad terms.

He was probably a high-ranking official in Jeju by now.

But I had no intention of thinking about him.

Just like I had avoided thinking about Kang Han-min and Na Hye-in before.

This was my own way of escaping.

But I knew.

That no amount of running would change reality.

The military truck pulled up and dropped me off with a heavy cargo sled beside me.

I glanced at it.

"What’s this?"

"It’s your food and ammo for the next week."

"This is all... for me?"

"Yeah."

The officer nodded.

"You’re the only one assigned to Post 328."

I glanced toward the outpost.

"And the previous guards?"

The officer sighed.

"I just hope you’re stronger than them."

I hoisted the cargo sled and climbed the steep incline.

Through my wavering vision, a worn-down concrete building emerged at the summit.

"..."

In the end, I had come full circle.

I had ended up in a place like this again.

As I stood there, I thought back to the decision I had made when I first stepped onto Jeju Island.

The plan to return to the mainland.

It wouldn’t be easy.

No, it would be almost impossible.

But then—

"Hm?"

Something caught my eye at the entrance.

A machine—half-buried in dirt, layered with dust from years of neglect.

But I recognized it instantly.

"An Obelisk?"

A satellite internet terminal.

I hurried inside, dragging the cargo sled behind me.

The outpost was a wreck.

Bloodstains hadn’t even been properly cleaned.

But I didn’t care.

Because there was a laptop.

A military-issued communication device.

I tossed the cargo sled aside, practically ripping through the debris, frantically searching.

Then—

"Hah!"

I let out a manic laugh.

A cable.

A fucking internet cable.

The Obelisk’s power was off.

No, someone had unplugged it.

A long time ago.

Was it a temporary unit, used before the existence of satellite networks became widespread?

I reconnected the Obelisk and checked for a signal.

It connected.

A network connection appeared on the screen.

A surge of long-forgotten excitement rushed through me, compounding like interest, filling every part of my being.

I logged in.

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"..."

I collapsed into the chair.

Dust clung to my pants, dried blood stained the floor beneath me.

None of it mattered.

I didn’t need a mirror to know.

Right now, in this moment—

I was smiling.

I was probably smiling more than anyone else in the world.