Hiding a House in the Apocalypse-Chapter 72.2: Unicorn18 (2)

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.

The source of this c𝓸ntent is frёeweɓηovel.coɱ.

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.

“What if I put it this way: they’re like a lonely hedgehog. They shout to draw other animals near but keep their distance with their spines. No matter what, there’s always a gap that can’t be bridged.”

“That doesn’t sound right to me.”

I spoke my mind.

“Why not?”

“Remember when you cosplayed as Skelton at my place?”

“Oh, yeah. That was fun.”

“After that, Unicorn started hitting on you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. He even sent me private messages, calling me ‘noona’ over and over.”

“Here’s what I think,” Da-jeong said confidently.

“If you had taken one step closer, he probably would’ve backed off.”

“Is that so?”

“Absolutely. He probably wasn’t even serious. Why not try pretending to be a girl and approach him as Skelton? It could be fun.”

I shook my head.

“There’s something I need to do first.”

As a rule, I prefer gathering data before engaging in any kind of conflict.

Our mentor, Jang Ki-young, often claimed that hunters should rely on guts and improvisation in battle, but my experience taught me that thorough preparation and information are the best tools for both success and survival.

Analyzing Unicorn18, the Viva! Apocalypse! user on the Korean board, was a necessary first step before making contact.

There was only one method:

I would have to sift through the thousands—no, tens of thousands—of posts and comments he had left on the board.

No matter how much a troll claims not to want communication, if they’ve written thousands of posts, some of their true intentions are bound to slip through.

Even I, the meticulous Park Gyu, had written posts that Woo Min-hee could have mocked me for—like the story about Jepho City, among others.

Kang Han-min, despite being revered as a savior and almost worshipped as a religious figure these days, was bound to leave weaknesses exposed.

I even knew that Unicorn18 had been active on PaleNet’s Jeju Island board.

Message from Unicorn18:

“Noona! m is arguing on the PaleNet Jeju Island board!”

I remembered that Unicorn18 had sent me messages back when I was dabbling in netkama trolling.

As Da-jeong and I began planning a deeper analysis of Unicorn18, Defender interrupted our conversation.

“Hey, Skelton,” he said.

“That sounds interesting. Can I help?”

“The more hands, the better,” I replied.

It was hard to refuse his offer, especially since Defender’s base had two satellite internet systems. That meant the three of us could each handle a different part of the investigation systematically.

“Defender, could you focus on PaleNet? Look through the Jeju board, the trending threads, and other popular sections. Unicorn18 should still be using the same nickname, so it’ll be easy to search.”

“Got it.”

In this brutal winter, where nighttime temperatures plummeted to below -30°C, even the infamous Defender was just another user with little to do. His hands were tied without a target to track down for his “confirmations.” Unless the situation was extraordinary, he rarely ventured out to provide his “services.”

Thus began our three-pronged investigation into Unicorn18.

Unexpected Findings

Contrary to what we thought, Unicorn18 hadn’t been active on the board every day. Despite seeming omnipresent, their activity spanned only 120 days in total—a mere third of the year.

They posted, on average, once every three days, sometimes disappearing for over two weeks.

The reason Unicorn18 felt so ubiquitous was that, on the days they were active, they posted and commented ten times more than the average user.

Defender’s younger sister—who was unexpectedly skilled at data analysis—uncovered an odd statistic about Unicorn18’s posting habits.

“Unicorn has a post-to-comment ratio of 20:1,” Da-jeong pointed out, her voice unusually serious.

“Post-to-comment ratio?” I asked.

“Yeah, for every 20 posts, they only leave one comment.”

“Is that a problem?”

“Think about it. Comments are how you interact with others’ posts. They show that you’ve read someone’s opinion and engaged with it. Posts, on the other hand, are just broadcasting your own thoughts to a faceless crowd.”

“Huh.”

“It’s not just ‘huh.’ Think about it. Skelton, do you write more posts or leave more comments?”

I thought about it.

When I first started using the forums, I enjoyed reading and responding to others’ posts more than writing my own. Even now, I still leave more comments than I write posts.

“Comments, mostly.”

“Exactly. Most people are like that. Comments show empathy and interaction. And it feels good when someone comments on your post, doesn’t it?”

“It does.”

“Unicorn, though? He doesn’t care. He only talks about himself. It’s like he’s shouting at a wall, completely ignoring everyone else’s opinions.”

“...”

“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.