Hiding a House in the Apocalypse-Chapter 76.2: Refuge (2)

"Casualties?"

"Isn't that another PaleNet thing?"

Come to think of it...

"Didn’t a ton of PaleNet users die in one go? That game by FoxGames turned into a massive cemetery, and even the developer, who seemed mentally solid, couldn’t handle it anymore."

That’s right.

This is reality.

A popular post on the board described the developer's devastation about how their game had become unmanageable.

FoxGames: This was predictable, and I even implemented a cemetery system in anticipation. But now, I'm scared to log into my own game. I can't tell if I’m the administrator or a corpse collector anymore. As for Monster Park... I’m rethinking whether I should keep running it.

The surreal feeling from the Gather, Animals Island! board wasn’t just from their absurdly friendly attitudes.

Dajeong presented a theory on the spot.

"Could it just be one lunatic playing multiple roles by themselves?"

The hypothesis she suggested was a classic case of "multi-acting."

Multi-acting: When one person uses multiple accounts to appear as several different individuals. Surprisingly, this is an old trick, dating back to the early days of online forums in the PC communication era.

"Look, don't their speech patterns all seem similar? Like they’re out of it or something? Instead of sounding like real people, it’s more like NPCs in some kiddie zoo, all dragging around that 'Ismail' guy."

Her argument had a point.

Unless it was a case of multi-acting, there was no way a board with only 12 active users could consistently post over one thread per minute, rivaling even ghost boards in activity rankings.

"I heard PaleNet doesn’t rely on usernames for user counts because of how rampant trolling and fake accounts are. Instead, they register each unique device ID as one user."

She added with a smirk, "So yeah, if I felt like it, I could probably manage ten accounts at once there."

"Hmm."

One person acting as many, huh?

Well, that would reveal itself with time. And time is something I have plenty of.

While keeping an eye on the Gather, Animals Island! board, I decided to clean and organize my weapons. On the blanket before me lay five rifles and two pistols, neatly arranged.

Click!

I disassembled each firearm, laying the parts carefully on the blanket. Using an oil-soaked cloth, I meticulously wiped down each piece while keeping an eye on the board.

Posts were coming in steadily—one every minute, sometimes every five minutes.

Click!

Reassembling firearms was one of the few hobbies I enjoyed back in school. I wasn’t the fastest, but I never made a mistake. Even if someone shook the blanket and scattered the pieces, I could reassemble them without hesitation. It was like my personal puzzle game.

Although my hands had slowed with age, the methodical precision I prided myself on back then remained intact.

Click.

The empty trigger clicked with its familiar hollow sound as I turned back to the monitor.

MintChocoRiceBowl: I want tuna stew.

HairIronWarrior: Drawing on my phone is so hard.

GingerCookie: The neighbors are fighting again...

TempleTteokbokkiFollower: “Don’t click!”

Loacker: I think my console is busted.

Ismail: ...

BunnyHop: Where can I catch a golden salmon?

QueueHam: These nutrition bars taste awful!

A surprising number of posts had piled up.

I wiped my oily hands, grabbed the mouse, and began clicking on threads. As expected, the content matched the titles. Some even included photos relevant to their posts.

For example, QueueHam’s nutrition bar thread included a picture of a roach-colored bar I’d seen before. Loacker’s console thread also had a photo of a game console on a blanket.

Curiously, the photos posted by these two users seemed to have been taken in entirely different settings. The lighting, atmosphere, and even the background differed. Loacker's photo appeared to be taken inside a tent, while QueueHam's was clearly in an apartment.

They couldn’t have been taken by the same person.

"Hmm..."

Still, the fact that someone was living in an apartment in this day and age was odd. Aren’t most people holed up in evacuation camps?

Regardless, based on the photos alone, Loacker and QueueHam seemed to be distinct individuals.

As I continued cleaning my guns and monitoring the board, I noticed a consistent flow of posts—at least ten every hour. Though some were frivolous, none were off-topic; every post matched its title.

It felt... peaceful.

Too peaceful for the current apocalyptic reality.

After finishing with the weapons, I typed into the chat.

SKELTON: Is everyone safe? The recent cold wave’s no joke.

For some reason, the eerie vibe of the board made me more cautious than usual. I didn’t even include my signature phrase—something I’ve always done. Perhaps it was an unspoken metaphor for my unease.

As soon as my post went up, another one followed.

MintChocoRiceBowl: I’m craving squid rice bowl~

A pointless post.

Considering it was posted within ten seconds of mine, it’s likely they hadn’t seen my message yet. Sure enough, GingerCookie soon responded.

GingerCookie: Skelven! Are you worried about us?

SKELTON: The board’s been a mess lately. Everyone doing okay?

GingerCookie: Want to check for yourself?

SKELTON: Check?

The 𝘮ost uptodat𝑒 novels are pub𝙡ished on freeweɓnovēl.coɱ.

GingerCookie: Come over to my place!

The moment GingerCookie invited me, it was as if an avalanche of posts had been triggered.

MintChocoRiceBowl: Skelton! Come over!

TempleTteokbokkiFollower: “Skelton!”

Ismail: ...

Loacker: Skelton! Let’s hang out and play games!

HairIronWarrior: SkelDon, let’s have fun together!!

QueueHam: SkelLon, you must visit!

BunnyHop: I’ll prepare something tasty and wait!

"..."

Even someone like me, who’s often accused of being dense, couldn’t ignore the chilling vibe in front of me. Something was undeniably wrong.

This board...

GingerCookie: Skelton? What’s your answer?

GingerCookie’s message felt like a demand. A sort of ultimatum. Ignoring it might sever our connection.

Though leaving outright was an option, I couldn’t help but feel curious.

SKELTON: Do you all live together?

GingerCookie: We live in the same neighborhood!

SKELTON: Where exactly is that?

GingerCookie: Next to Shelter 258.

Shelter 258?

I have no idea where that is.

GingerCookie: Will you come?

SKELTON: Maybe when the weather clears?

GingerCookie: Can’t you come today?

SKELTON: I’m not feeling well today. I’ve got a cold.

GingerCookie: It has to be today.

"..."

The eerie vibe hit me like a punch.

“Today, right now.”

That’s the kind of line bandits use to lure and kill people.

Right on cue, my comm device buzzed.

“Hey, Skelton.”

It was Defender.

“Those guys seem sketchy as hell.”

He must’ve been listening to my conversation with Dajeong and checking the board.

“You think they’re murderers?”

If anyone else had said that, I might’ve brushed it off. But coming from Defender, someone who turned killing into a profession, his words carried a certain weight.

“Why do you think that?”

“When was the last time someone insisted you meet right now and wasn’t bad news?”

“Fair point.”

“And Shelter 258? That place shut down two years ago.”

“Really?”

"Last winter, we had mass casualties, and they reorganized the shelters. Instead of running a bunch of scattered locations, they consolidated them into fewer, more manageable ones.

As far as I know, any shelter with more than 200 slots got wiped out during the reorganization. Now there are barely over 100 shelters left."

"You’re well-informed."

"Did some digging when we went after JusticeMin."

"That explains it."

Defender’s credibility just went through the roof.

But he wasn’t done.

"Luring people to their deaths through message boards—it’s happened in our forums, sure. But on PaleNet? That stuff’s basically routine."

"Figures."

"Lures don’t always rely on women or arrogance, you know. Some bastards use loneliness and fear as tools. Like Dies Irae."

"So, in your opinion, those guys on the board—they look like killers?"

"Probably. But something’s off about these guys."

Defender clicked his tongue in frustration. He seemed unsettled, as though this case was especially strange.

"I can’t make heads or tails of it. If we had someone good at analyzing internet logs, maybe we could figure out what these machine-like accounts are all about."

As Defender and I talked, another post popped up on the board.

GingerCookie: Skelton, are you abandoning us?

Right after GingerCookie’s post, a flood of messages followed:

MintChocoRiceBowl: Skelton! Don’t betray us!

HairIronWarrior: We’re friends, aren’t we, Skelton?

GingerCookie: Skelton ㅠㅠ

TempleTteokbokkiFollower: "Don’t leave us!"

Loacker: I miss you, Skelton.

Ismail: ...

BunnyHop: Skelton, Skelton, Skelton!

QueueHam: Skelton, don’t abandon us!

Another bombardment of unsettling messages filled the screen.

In the face of this eerie deluge, I had no response but silence.

Then, a message arrived from Ballantine:

Ballantine: The activity is PC-based, not mobile. And it all traces back to a single computer.

Ballantine: So, GingerCookie, QueueHam, MintChocoRiceBowl, Loacker, BunnyHop—they’re all the same person. If they weren’t, the board wouldn’t be buried so low in the rankings.

Even with just five active users, the current PaleNet rankings make it easy to hit the top 100.

Dajeong was right.

These were not multiple people but the creation of a single user.

Their unnaturally friendly demeanor, bizarre concept, and twisted fairy tale-like atmosphere were not coincidences but the product of one person’s delusions.

However, the chat I’d seen while cleaning my guns hadn’t felt like the work of one person.

The various voices, each distinct in tone and personality, seemed far too different to be a single entity.

I pointed this out to Ballantine.

Ballantine: Ah, I get it now.

A moment later, Ballantine delivered their analysis.

Ballantine: It’s a macro.

SKELTON: A macro?

Ballantine: Two types, actually. Let me show you.

Ballantine posted an anonymous message on the board.

ㅇㅇ: Hey everyone, say hi.

Instantly, replies flooded in:

FridayGamer: Hello? Nice to meet you!

QueueHam: What’s up? Anyway, nice to meet you!

Ismail: ...

THE MAN: Oh, you know how to party, huh?

TempleTteokbokkiFollower: "Welcome!"

MintChocoRiceBowl: Are you new? Hi there!

HairIronWarrior: Wow, people show up here too? Welcome!

Loacker: Wow~ Amazing!

It was exactly the same as the overwhelming welcome I received when I first posted—minus the “famous user SkelDon” tag.

As I felt a chill run down my spine, Ballantine explained further.

Ballantine: The second type is a background macro. It plays posts like music.

SKELTON: Plays posts?

Ballantine: They input old posts—like a script—so it keeps running when no one’s actually there. Look at QueueHam’s post about nutrition bars. They haven’t distributed those in years.

Ballantine’s logs revealed that two years ago, this board had genuine activity. Multiple users with unique IDs from different regions, including many from Seoul, had been active.

But now, the only device posting to the board was a single PC using the old Shelter 258 signal.

Ballantine: This phenomenon seems to have started last year—around the time Seoul was abandoned. Everyone who used to post here must have died. Back then, conditions were even worse than they are now. Food, water, hygiene—it was all catastrophic.

Ballantine: In summary, this Gather, Animals Island! board is just a phantom created by GingerCookie.

"..."

So this was the truth behind the Gather, Animals Island! board, the sanctuary I had briefly considered.

SKELTON: GingerCookie.

I called out to the one who had tried to summon me.

But they didn’t respond.

Instead, the hollow murmurs of the dead from two years ago echoed through the board, filling its emptiness.

If only the story ended here.

But there was still another truth hidden beyond the network.

At the same time that Ballantine revealed the truth of the board, freelance hunter Cheon Young-jae led three old-school hunters and two scavengers to raid the abandoned basement behind the old Shelter 258.

Cheon Young-jae, a low-level Awakened, relied on tracking skills learned in school rather than his abilities to locate the hideout. He relayed the discovery to the one who had hired him for this job—Defender.

"There was one person, slumped dead in front of a computer. Looked like they hadn’t been dead long, but their condition was so bad that decay might have been preferable."

In the adjacent room were several more bodies.

Defender clicked his tongue in disgust.

"They were all cannibalized. Bit by bit, one after another."

A desperate cannibal had called out to me.

Why?

To eat me? Or because they couldn’t bear their loneliness?

Perhaps both.

After all, consuming someone and sharing emotions both stem from a desire to fill a void.

One thing was certain—the cannibal’s actions had given me, a man cornered, a chance to rise again.

SKELTON: (A near-death experience with a cannibal) Storytime incoming. horror.

For the first time in a while, I posted something that made it to the trending section.

By the way, the cannibal’s original username wasn’t GingerCookie.

It was Ismail.