Hiding a House in the Apocalypse-Chapter 70.1: Delivery (1)

Melon Musk might be a legendary entrepreneur, but if you ask whether he’s a good person, opinions are bound to vary. You only need to look at those around him for proof.

Twice married and twice divorced with no children, Melon’s early business partners all left him. Even the colleagues who helped write his history during his peak eventually distanced themselves.

The reasons likely ranged from conflicts over profit distribution to differences in values or the pursuit of better opportunities. However, the media mainly focused on Melon Musk’s personality flaws.

As everyone knows, Melon is the type who cannot stand not being the center of attention.

In any situation, he has to be the one in the spotlight, the one everyone notices.

Undoubtedly, this trait has caused countless issues along the way.

And now, here I am, feeling the full brunt of what Melon Musk’s former collaborators must have experienced.

A banner ad appeared at the top of the forum.

It read:

"Melon Musk: The First in the World to Confirm Friendship Between Humans and Mutations!"

The moment I saw it, I couldn’t believe my eyes.

Melon Musk, the first person in the world to confirm the possibility of friendship with mutations?

I’m not omniscient—I can’t claim to know everything happening in the world—but no matter how generous the ranking, Melon Musk wouldn’t even place third.

The first was the cat mom who cared for Jackfield and two other mutations. The second was SKELTON, who befriended the legendary mutation dog Gold. Melon Musk comes after that.

And let’s not forget—it was I who informed Melon about the possibility of harmony between humans and mutations in the first place.

Yet here he is, shamelessly spreading fake news, claiming he was the first to befriend a mutation.

To make matters worse, sycophants seeking Melon’s favor swarmed like flies.

Madisonbridge: "Amazing, Melon. Mutations are our friends!"

Anonymous 8: "Proving harmony between humans and mutations? The legendary drama you’ve shown us will remain in human history forever."

Dongtanmom: "Yum. 😋 Amazing, Melon!"

mmmmmmmmm: "Melon Musk, a man worthy of my respect."

Dmitri_Ayantov: "Melon, can’t you send us some supplies? My kids are starving!"

Unicorn18: "Give me chocolate! Chewing gum!"

...

I didn’t help Melon Musk for any personal gain.

Like the thousands of other Vivarions, I only wanted him to survive.

But to say there wasn’t even a sliver of self-interest in my actions would be a lie.

While helping Melon, I had hoped to elevate SKELTON’s name. Not to become a celebrity, but to be recognized as a user with significant contributions—a respected figure on the forums who could enjoy a more fulfilling online life.

But now, this modest dream had been crushed in the most ungrateful way possible.

Fueled by anger, I began drafting a long post condemning Melon’s fraudulent claims when suddenly a chat window appeared at the bottom of the screen.

VIVA_BOTO14: "Hello, SKELTON."

It was Vivabot. Judging by the number, it seemed to be the same woman I’d spoken with before.

Perfect timing.

I immediately poured my grievances into the chat with fiery keystrokes.

SKELTON: "I was the one who first discovered and demonstrated the possibility of harmony between humans and mutations. So why is Melon lying and leaving out that fact? I didn’t do this to become famous, but calling himself the first is outrageous!"

VIVA_BOTO14: "Please calm down, SKELTON."

SKELTON: "How am I supposed to calm down?"

VIVA_BOTO14: "Melon is still in poor health, both physically and mentally. From our video call, you seem perfectly healthy—except maybe your mind."

SKELTON: "My mind is the healthiest part of me."

VIVA_BOTO14: "Melon is alone in the cold void of space. With his personality, he needs some form of achievement to cling to in order to endure it. As you know, his ego is... enormous. Please try to understand."

SKELTON: "But how can he feel satisfied with something he didn’t even achieve himself?"

VIVA_BOTO14: "Once the world stabilizes, we’ll make sure to highlight your contributions again. For now, we’ll send you a small gift by delivery. Wouldn’t that be enough?"

SKELTON: "Delivery?"

Not that the word "delivery" calmed me down or anything.

In reality, I knew my complaints wouldn’t change anything. If Melon and Bumpy’s story could give people hope, that was enough. In this collapsing world, being first hardly mattered anymore.

Still, the idea of a delivery was novel.

With logistics and infrastructure virtually nonexistent, the thought of receiving a package felt almost surreal.

I had heard bits and pieces about America’s dire state from Rebecca. The country had fractured into state-sized territories, with creeping erosion zones and gang-like militias rampaging across borders, burning cities to the ground.

Fortunately, Melon’s company was in a safe zone and reportedly held substantial stockpiles of resources.

Above all, they possessed drones capable of intercontinental delivery, called Cygnus.

The exact specs were unclear, but they supposedly had long wings like albatrosses, equipped with solar panels, and could soar into the stratosphere, riding jet streams to deliver dreams and hope worldwide.

The only issue was the delivery method.

It was a literal air-drop.

Packages resembling aerial bombs were equipped with parachutes and dropped straight to the recipients.

VIVA_BOTO14: "I’ll send you a link. Please select items within a 5kg limit and message me your choices by 09:00."

She sent me a link.

Clicking it opened what looked like an ancient shopping site.

"Welcome to Mall! Apocalypse!"

The site mimicked the layout and design of the old Amazon, but the range of items was diverse: clothing, firearms, ammunition, freeze-dried food, supplements, medicine, fuel, chemicals, and even psychoactive substances.

Unlike the old shopping sites, however, there was hardly any choice among items, and most were marked as out of stock.

It seemed even Melon Musk’s company wasn’t immune to the scarcity of the apocalypse.

Still, browsing the site gave me a sense of Melon’s ambition.

The way payments were processed using his company’s proprietary cryptocurrency was particularly striking. Perhaps Melon wasn’t aiming for just a photo op with Bumpy but for the throne of the apocalypse itself.

Through near-free distribution of advanced equipment like the Obelisk, he’d built a global network, established the sole market and logistics system, and now controlled the currency used within it.

It might sound like a stretch, but that was my impression.

Not that it mattered much.

Melon’s plans seemed effectively over the moment he got stuck in that space bunker.

I opened the heavy door of my bunker and stepped outside for the first time in a while.

As soon as the massive steel door opened, I was greeted by freezing winds and a world blanketed in snow.

Breath fogged in the air as I looked out over the frozen landscape.

Current time: 1:23 PM.

Temperature: -18°C.

Online, people spoke of hope, but this was the reality before us.

No need to dwell on it.

No amount of thinking would give me the power to change the weather.

I was heading back to my bunker, contemplating what to order from the shopping site, when my K-Walkie burst to life.

Static—

A public frequency.

Who could it be in this cold?

I tuned in, curious.

"HELP! HELP!"

A familiar, desperate young voice echoed through the static, filling the bunker.

"Someone save us! We’re all going to freeze to death out here!"

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I remembered. It was Sergeant Jang’s kids.

In the apocalypse, charity is a luxury.

To extend kindness, you have to risk your life.

And that means only those who truly deserve it should receive it.

Plenty of people had died or met fates worse than death after giving aid recklessly, thinking only to look kind-hearted. Being young, old, or disabled didn’t change the outcome.

In the apocalypse, everyone is the same.

There might be differences in combat ability or experience, but with a weapon, anyone can kill me.

I didn’t feel any particular affection for Sergeant Jang’s kids.

I admit I felt a little pity for them, but that didn’t mean I was willing to take responsibility for them.

That said, my supplies are currently in excellent shape.

Woo Min-hee had supplied me with a large stockpile of food and fuel.

It was enough that I didn’t even need to use the wood-burning boiler I’d prepared back in the summer.

Even so, that alone wasn’t enough to change my usual stance of ignoring people seeking help.

What did make a difference was Melon Musk’s broadcast.

Call it a positive influence.

We had witnessed how our goodwill had contributed to a positive outcome.

So, perhaps helping out just this once wouldn’t be so bad.

"I don’t think that’s such a good idea," Defender’s younger sister interjected when I mentioned my plan to help Sergeant Jang’s kids.

"Think about it, SKELTON. If you help them once, do you think they’ll stop there? They’ll definitely come crying for more help."

She wasn’t wrong.

There was no arguing against her logic.

"I’m only planning to help them make it through the winter."

"Then why not take me in and support me instead?"

"What? Why you?"

"I told you, there’s a weird guy at our place!"

It seemed she was still at Defender’s base with that friend of his—Heo Jong-chul.

"Ugh, just thinking about how many times he’s probably leered at me with those creepy eyes gives me chills!"

Her complaints finally prompted Defender to step in.

"Jong-chul’s a bit eccentric, but he’s not inherently bad. And besides, he’s a doctor."

"A doctor? He didn’t even go to medical school."

"Maybe, but he’s better at removing bullets than most doctors."

"I don’t care. I just don’t like him. I wish he’d leave."

"Cut it out. Jong-chul’s already walking on eggshells around you."

"Honestly, why is it that you’re so ruthless with strangers but can’t say no to your old comrades? Did something happen in China?"

"SKELTON! Sorry, I need to end this call."

Defender hastily cut off the transmission.

It was the first time I’d seen the siblings argue.

Usually, they were so in sync that they seemed like a single entity. Yet, the presence of a third party—Heo Jong-chul—was clearly causing significant tension between them.

Still, she had a point.

If I helped once, I’d likely have to keep helping.

Maybe even after the winter ended, they’d continue to rely on me.

Adults can be manipulative, and children are no exception.

Once they latch on, they’d never let go.

I needed a better solution.

They say children understand each other best, so I sought Su’s advice.

"Santa Claus," she suggested.

"Why not handle it Santa Claus-style?"

In other words, a no-contact delivery.

Even extreme cold can be managed with proper precautions.

With insulated clothing, boots, heat packs strapped near my heart, and a motorcycle, I felt confident I could go anywhere.

And in this cold, the risk of being ambushed was practically nonexistent.

Unless it was a battlefield between two armies, no raider would bother lying in wait in these temperatures. It’d be like soaking their feet in an icy stream and draining their battery at the same time.

"HELP! HELP! Please, someone save us! There are children here! We’re freezing to death!"

The girl’s desperate voice crackled through the walkie-talkie as I made my way to Sergeant Jang’s hideout.

There was no trace of the innocence I’d once heard in her voice.

In the distance, I saw an abandoned residential area, blanketed in snow like everywhere else.

Smoke rose from one of the houses.

They must have been using a wood-burning boiler.

I hadn’t brought fuel for this trip—after all, I’d already confirmed there was plenty of wood here during a previous visit.

It was early morning, just before dawn.

I unloaded the supplies I’d brought in front of the smoking house.

The supplies weren’t much—just some surplus food and frozen milk.

It was the best I could offer without putting myself at risk.

Click.

I snapped a photo of my act of kindness with my phone camera and was about to leave when I sensed movement.

A person.

Slightly annoyed, I rested my hand on my pistol and spoke quietly toward the source of the sound beyond the door.

"Who’s there?"

The door creaked open, revealing a small boy and a younger girl, who seemed to be his sister.

The boy looked about ten years old, and the girl maybe eight.

It was a miracle they’d survived this long, given their age. Still, it was heartening to see the boy shielding his sister protectively with his body.

He cautiously eyed me and asked, "What are you doing?"

I silently pointed to the supplies I’d left by the door.

His expression lit up as he realized they were food.

He didn’t seem like a bad kid, so I put a finger to my lips and whispered, "Keep it a secret that I was here. Got it?"

The boy nodded, still holding his bewildered sister.

That would be the last time I visited.

Now that I’d been seen, there’d be no reason to return.

Still, I hesitated.

There was something strange in the boy’s eyes.

An awakened child.