Hiding a House in the Apocalypse

There are places humans cannot explore, but robots can.

This idea has been around since the first meltdown at Chernobyl, a historically proven method.

During the Great East Japan Earthquake, robots were deployed to investigate the radiation-filled meltdown sites, replacing human workers in confirming the situation.

Modern drone technology may have come to a near halt, but it has advanced far beyond what was available back then.

Wars fought by humans—not just among themselves but against monsters—have driven relentless advancements in machines to replace human soldiers.

Unfortunately, I have no experience operating or handling drones.

When I was on the battlefield, the Chinese military we worked with handled the drones, and since I deliberately kept my distance from them, I never had the opportunity to learn anything.

But I do know someone who is good with drones.

Ha Tae-hoon from the 11th generation.

When Cheon Young-jae first brought him up, I sighed, thinking he’d be another burden entering my territory.

But now that drones are more crucial than ever, that thought has completely vanished.

"Alright, this is Michuhol District. Not much farther now."

Cheon Young-jae and I were in Incheon.

We came to pick up Ha Tae-hoon.

For transportation, we used an old, barely-functioning vehicle that Cheon Young-jae had brought along.

He claimed to have fixed the engine, but I had my doubts.

Still, using his car was better than risking my own, and that turned out to be a wise decision.

On the way here, we were shot at at least four times.

The gunfire wasn’t part of a coordinated ambush—more like stray rounds hoping for a lucky hit.

But this place was far too dangerous for me to drive my precious vehicle into.

Barely scraping by, we finally arrived at the location where Ha Tae-hoon was supposedly staying.

As someone who used to live in Incheon, Cheon Young-jae was familiar with the geography and the distribution of local factions.

"That over there is the 13th Shelter Zone, and that’s the 34th Shelter Zone. Both are groups that refused to evacuate to Seoul. Honestly, both are basically just criminal gangs at this point. The 13th is slightly better, but not by much."

Apparently, Ha Tae-hoon was relying on the 13th Shelter for protection.

The state of the shelters had deteriorated even further since my last visit to Incheon.

Or rather, this might be the natural evolution of abandoned settlements in the apocalypse.

Once government aid stops and people are left to survive entirely on their own, the line between crime and law inevitably disappears.

Survival becomes the only priority.

Everything else—morality, ethics, law—becomes meaningless.

Even from the entrance, the 13th Shelter felt like a crumbling, desperate community.

Barefoot, emaciated children clutching makeshift weapons stared at us with hollow eyes.

Men covered in tattoos and scars eyed us warily, gripping their guns.

Some women, gaunt and dressed in tattered clothes, openly flirted with us, seeking any opportunity to escape their circumstances.

"Don’t make eye contact," Cheon Young-jae whispered.

Didn’t need to tell me twice.

But we made sure to display our weapons clearly, keeping our guard up at all times.

"..."

This was surprising.

It had only been half a year since my last visit to Incheon, and back then, there was still some semblance of order left.

Now, even those remnants were gone.

This was a jungle made entirely of humans.