Even the flow of thought has inertia.

If all you’ve seen, heard, and experienced is ruin and destruction, then any new event you encounter will be judged through that same lens.

When I first heard Defender’s words, the first scenario that came to mind was Park Penguin’s death—or a downfall just as severe.

So, with a bit of familiar resignation, I braced myself.

Park Penguin.

The death of yet another friend from the message board.

And yet, a small, desperate part of me hoped my prediction was wrong.

*

What made Park Penguin famous, and gave him the nickname “Penguin” that would one day eclipse his real name, was the brutal cold wave.

While countless unprepared people died in the freezing cold, Park Penguin recalled something he had seen in a nature documentary on a lazy Sunday: the huddling behavior of penguins. He told his fellow refugees to imitate it, and as a result, most of them survived.

Hundreds of people bundled in thick clothes stood pressed together in a tight formation, slowly rotating as they resisted the cold. That scene lingered on people’s lips for a long time.

The fact that his downfall was brought on by another cold wave was... meaningful.

Words like decline, regression, weakness, complacency, losing one’s edge, losing one’s first resolve—all kinds of dark terms circled in my head as we reached the Incheon area.

Today, unlike usual, I had two new companions: Mark Two and John Nae-non III.

I’ve never been fond of dragging kids or animals into ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ battle, but I’d been wandering outside too long, leaving an unprotected child and beast behind.

I was grateful to the Defender siblings for letting them tag along.

And I had to respect Defender’s eye for resources and skill—he’d gone from a small car to a mid-size SUV in no time.

On the surface, the excuse was that refugees had been passing through my territory more frequently. But the real reason that swayed me was guilt.

Unlike Woo Min-hee, who openly voiced her disapproval, this kid kept quiet even when I was roaming outside. That silent patience tugged at me more than begging and pleading ever could.

I’d realized long ago: when people cry and whine, I resist them more. But when they quietly accept things, I show them greater mercy.

Others say this isn’t “very Korean” of me, but I can’t help it.

Not that these two were useless.

“We’re Awakened, after all. At least we trained in deploying Reflective Fields. Back at the facility, we even competed with them.”

Mark Two grew up in the place where Kang Han-min’s children—children just like him—were raised and trained.

If the goal was to mass-produce a “second Kang Han-min,” then what was demanded of them was obvious.

He hadn’t trained with firearms or the military, but he had systematic training in using Authority, with privileges based on scores.

I didn’t plan to put him in combat, but Incheon is a gray zone now.

Neither Seoul nor Sejong controls it. Independent groups had tried to hold their own there, with balance maintained for a time by big players like Park Penguin. But between Jeon Si-hoon’s attacks, the cold waves, and the rise of Extinction-class monsters, Incheon’s collectives had faltered.

And when groups like that collapse, bandits and raiders inevitably rise.

Law and order were in short supply.

Defender had armored the vehicle’s body, enough to stop a stray bullet or two, but if we were unlucky enough to run into an ambush and a hail of gunfire, survival was not guaranteed.

If Mark Two could just once put up a proper Reflective Field, our odds would rise dramatically.

John Nae-non III was useful in a different sense.

He suffered my silent scolding, living on scraps of approval, but he was still a dog.

The Defender siblings, classic doomsday types, were skeptical.

“Mutation? You sure it’s okay to raise this thing? It won’t eat people?”

“I heard in Jeju, when they raised livestock, they implanted devices that could trigger cardiac arrest with the push of a button. Maybe you should try that. Just in case.”

I didn’t know what this mutt was thinking, but Mark Two loved him, and besides, he was Gold’s grandson.

They say Mutations hate humans because of their heightened intelligence. But couldn’t that same intelligence also make them like humans?

Silver, who once led his pack, returned to humanity in pitiful servitude because he learned firsthand that survival in the wild, driven only by hatred of mankind, wasn’t so simple.

Anyway, this mission was closer to reconnaissance.

I had no illusions; the task had no clear end. But Park Penguin had been my acquaintance since the legendary Scholar Incident, and later, I met him and built a real rapport. He was the model of an ordinary survivor turned leader.

He had a son too—a middle school–aged boy who looked just like him.

I didn’t want to predict their fate. But to be honest, I couldn’t call it promising.

The odds were high they were already dead.

“...Back when I was struggling, Park Penguin helped me a lot.”

Defender, at the wheel, opened up.

Despite his reputation as a notorious killer, he was better connected than me, with a small but solid circle of allies he could trust.

Park Penguin had been one of them.

Defender had dealt with many cultists in Incheon thanks to Park Penguin’s intel, and in return, he’d given him favors.

Not all of those favors had been bright ones.

Park Penguin, too, was a leader in the apocalypse.

Rival groups, ambitious subordinates, or just personal enemies—Defender took care of many of the threats against him.

“There.”

We arrived at a place closer to Ansan than Incheon, along the coast.

The factories had long been abandoned, but the misty shoreline stank with both salt and the soul-sickening reek of chemicals and gunpowder.

“What is this place?”

I got out and looked around.

I recognized the layout of the defenses.

A Chinese military post.

It had been abandoned for a long while. The five-starred red flag had been pulled down ages ago, and the empty space was now filled with drifters who had nowhere else to go.

Gaunt, weary-eyed people gathered around the old base, their stares empty.

They looked at us without a word.

Defender spoke into his radio.

Soon, a limping man appeared before us.

A man in his late thirties, wearing a bucket hat.

His face was ashen, almost black.

He wasn’t malnourished—his body still held some weight—but his sickly complexion, bloodshot eyes, and trembling hands said he didn’t have much time left.

And he wasn’t alone. Many men, especially those worn down by alcohol and stress, were fragile here.

In Seoul, people at least had basic health checks and minimal medical care. In Incheon, there was none of that.

All they had to rely on was whatever immune system their parents had given them, facing the apocalypse bare.

“Where’s Park Penguin?”

Defender waved the radio.

The man barely moved as he answered.

“Park Penguin? Don’t know any asshole like that.”

At the word “expelled,” the people scattered around us turned their eyes our way.

Once-allies, now looking at us with hostility and malice.

Such is the way of the apocalypse.

“What? You don’t know? You guys are from the shelter he led, aren’t you?”

Defender pressed him again.

His voice always carried an edge sharp enough to cut.

I wondered if someone here might recognize Hong Jeong-ho’s voice.

I asked Defender to let me step forward.

The man looked at me.

I had a mask and hat on.

It was spring, but the air was still cold, and worse than the chill was the dust, the gray haze, and the risk of catching a stranger’s illness.

Even when the weather warms, plenty of people still wear masks when meeting outsiders.

“I’m a friend of Park Penguin’s. I came because I got word from him.”

The ashen-faced man stared at me.

His gaze was rude.

But rudeness isn’t worth answering every time.

It wasn’t just him.

The very name Park Penguin drew hostility now.

Once hailed as an outstanding leader, now almost everyone who had followed him through the apocalypse reacted with resentment at his name.

“....”

As I waited for his reply, I thought.

Maybe this was only natural.

Park Penguin had become a leader solely by making good judgments and running his group well.

He wasn’t a president or legislator with authority guaranteed by law. His power came only from the goodwill and trust of individuals—never something binding.

The man pulled something from his coat.

A tin whiskey flask.

When he opened it, the stench was more like industrial ethanol than liquor.

Knowing he didn’t have long, he took a deep swig, burped, and glared at me with bloodshot eyes.

“Expelled. They kicked him out.”

As expected.

But the rest came not from him, but from a hard-faced woman watching us warily from behind.

“Yeah? When that bastard Jeon Si-hoon stirred everything up, everyone wanted to go to Sejong. But he insisted we had to stay here. And what’s left now, huh? From three thousand people down to not even a thousand. Caught in pointless battles, people left, then the damn cold wave. And then he says to huddle like penguins again? With no plan? Who’d follow that? Who’d do that crazy shit again?”

Others around her, scattered and listless, murmured their agreement.

“He acts like that’s his greatest achievement. But back then, we had leftover batteries from the government, right? We could run heaters while we did that penguin crap. Without anything, what was he thinking?”

“Yeah, we even had hot-air blowers.”

“He lost his edge. Kept clinging to the leader’s seat so he wouldn’t lose it. That’s why he refused Sejong. Damn idiot.”

I asked the woman, “Where did Park Penguin go?”

She pointed with a finger stained gray by the haze.

“Took his family and went that way.”

“By car?”

She snorted.

“Why would anyone give him a car? He pulled a sled.”

“The radio?”

“Why give it to him? We kicked him out with nothing but his hands.”

I’d expected it to be bad. But the reality was worse than I imagined.

Inside Defender’s car.

“...Should we have come sooner? He’d said things were hard, but I didn’t think it’d be this bad.”

Defender looked uncharacteristically grim.

“Seems like he was kicked out suddenly, don’t you think, brother?” 𝚏𝕣𝕖𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚋𝚗𝐨𝐯𝕖𝕝.𝕔𝐨𝕞

“Feels that way.”

“Honestly, Park Penguin—he did act arrogant sometimes. He was good to us, but the way he talked, you could tell he made enemies.”

Hong Da-jung’s analysis was sharp and cold.

She owed her survival to Defender, but looking back, without her, Defender would’ve been long dead.

Defender glanced at me.

His eyes already carried resignation.

“Sorry for dragging you here, Skelton. But I think Park Penguin’s dead.”

Maybe he was.

In the apocalypse, the deadliest time isn’t in battle, or during a monster invasion, or even in a cold wave.

It’s when you lose your place to live and wander the wasteland.

A home, for humans, means survival.

That’s why I clung so hard to my bunker. I’d learned in China: people without a place to return to are most vulnerable.

And from what we’d heard, Park Penguin and his family hadn’t left in goodwill.

There must’ve been shouting, maybe even a mob beating.

He was a failed leader, exiled and despised.

And the wilderness around Incheon was swarming with danger.

Hong Da-jung’s drone feed showed Extinction-class monsters roaming.

Not just them—bitter, violent survivors too.

The only reason no one attacked us was because Defender’s vehicle looked military-grade.

“Let’s go back.”

Defender made his decision.

I stayed silent, and Hong Da-jung turned to me.

“We only escaped because we were lucky. It wasn’t just our own strength. We had people who trusted us. Back when we were hunting cultists, a friend helped us escape secretly. But Park Penguin... I don’t think he had anyone like that.”

The siblings treated his death as a given.

Not wasting effort on a hopeless cause—that was logical, even to me.

“....”

It’s true: ruin is our fate.

Me, the Defender siblings, John Nae-non III, Mark Two—we’ll all eventually be swept away by the unstoppable tide.

But just because that’s our fate, does that mean we should lower our heads and only stare at the dirt?

“Hey. I’ve got something to say.”

The siblings turned to me.

“...I think he could still be alive.”

Park Penguin was my friend from the board, yes, but I didn’t owe him my life or carry some unrepayable debt.

If he was dead, I’d grieve—but that would be all.

And yet, I’d been feeling something missing lately.

“Let’s look for him.”

Hope.

That’s what’s been lacking.

Maybe this search will only lead to despair, but with Jeon Si-hoon—or rather, Kang Han-min’s avatar—right before me, I needed even a little more hope.

If not for Park Penguin, then for me.

Because to face them, I have to be strong.

I have to carry a strong enough will.

That’s what the locked box deep in my heart whispered to me.