Hiding a House in the Apocalypse-Chapter 59: The Cabin

Recently, Woo Min-hee has been harboring suspicions about this pure and innocent Park Gyu. There’s no denying it.

gijayangban: “A pervert?”

gijayangban: “You’re a pervert, right?”

gijayangban: “Pervert...?”

This cunning woman has taken to trolling my posts, waiting a day after I publish something with zero comments before leaving such remarks.

Cleverly, she seems to know that I check my comment alerts religiously. Within an hour of posting, she deletes her comments, ensuring that I see them but leaving no evidence behind.

I’m still convinced she doesn’t actually know my identity.

Well, she might have her suspicions.

There are a few clues she might latch onto:

The correlation between my forum nickname and my unique identifier.The fact that whenever I visit Incheon, Skelton seems to vanish from the forum entirely.A handful of instances that might lead someone to deduce that Skelton could be Park Gyu.Her sharp and youthful wit, even if she does come across as an amateur.But this is me we’re talking about. Once I deny something, I deny it to the bitter end.

And I know exactly what kind of person Woo Min-hee is.

She’s someone who lives 10% in logic and 90% in impulse.

I’ve never had a personal relationship with her, but based on the accounts of men who have, they all seem to agree: her baseless suspicions and relentless persistence are enough to drive anyone insane.

Her obsession with calling me a pervert is likely a lingering vestige of my more glamorous days.

Most importantly, if Woo Min-hee were 100% sure that I was a pervert, she’d come find me.

This isn’t speculation—it’s a certainty.

Like punching numbers into a calculator, she’d immediately seek me out, no questions asked.

The best course of action here is to ignore her. However, ignoring her antics entirely might only deepen her suspicions.

So, when she left another comment on my “zero-comment post” yesterday, I quickly responded with a reply.

gijayangban: “Per...”

SKELTON: “?”

Is there any response shorter and more meaningful than a simple question mark?

Apparently, Woo Min-hee thought the same, as she replied in kind.

gijayangban: “Per...”

SKELTON: “?”

gijayangban: “?”

“...”

What do I do now?

I’ve risked my life making decisions before, like wielding an axe, but this might be the first time I’ve felt this way over a keyboard.

Another question mark wouldn’t do.

An exclamation mark? That’s C-MonkeyPapa’s signature.

Wavy lines? That’d just provoke her wrath.

And wait—don’t question marks require the shift key too? Whatever.

At this point, I had no choice but to type whatever came to mind.

SKELTON: “Baekho.”

gijayangban: “?”

SKELTON: “Um Baekho, the Virtuous King of Eastern Wu.”

gijayangban: “You’re spouting nonsense again.”

“...”

What nonsense? What’s so strange about the virtuous King Um Baekho of Eastern Wu?

In any case, whether due to Um Baekho’s virtue or sheer coincidence, Woo Min-hee didn’t leave any more comments after that.

She probably got busy or wandered off to read other posts.

Setting her aside for the moment, I’ve been busy preparing something else.

Clink. I split logs and stacked them neatly.

Knead, knead. I prepared winter provisions to last through the season.

Whirr. I inspected the boiler and heating systems.

That’s right. I’m preparing for winter.

Some might think I’m crazy.

"Why prepare for winter in late summer, when temperatures still climb to 30°C?"

But the cold will come.

Even the American forums have warned of a harsher winter than last year.

Even if no extreme cold comes, winter still demands preparation.

With monsters, if you’re unprepared, you can avoid them or flee.

But with the cold? If you’re unprepared, you die.

The corpses scattered across the golf course near my domain, frozen to death, serve as a stark reminder of that.

This year, my secret weapon for winter is a wood-burning boiler.

Installing it, however, isn’t as straightforward as I’d hoped.

It’s too big to fit inside the bunker.

The main entrance—our largest opening—was sealed off due to threats from the Corps faction.

I tried bringing it in through the garage, but the doorway connecting the garage to the main bunker was too small.

I briefly considered installing the boiler in the garage, but if a fire broke out, it could spread to the vehicles and heavy equipment stored there, wiping out any hope for the future.

After pondering this problem for quite a while, I came up with a solution.

If I can’t bring the boiler into the house, why not build a house for the boiler?

The idea came from none other than Rebecca.

“When winter came, my family used to build little cabins.”

The thought of a warm wooden cabin amidst falling snow certainly has a romantic allure.

But in these apocalyptic times, isn’t that a bit of a luxury?

I already have a container house.

Why not modify that instead? It’d be far more efficient and practical than building an unnecessary cabin.

Sure, the container is rusty, grimy, and ugly, but as long as it keeps the wind and rain out, isn’t that enough?

When I showed the container to Rebecca, she immediately dismissed it.

“I can build a cabin.”

She didn’t even bother addressing the container, as if it wasn’t worth discussing.

“I’m good at building cabins. I used to help my dad with a hammer.”

For the first time in a while, Rebecca seemed excited.

“In the military, I handled all sorts of simple construction projects. Trust me, Skelton.”

For someone usually so disinterested, her enthusiasm was surprising.

Maybe she’s finally getting tired of the online world she loves so much.

After all, it’s been over a year of nothing but scrolling through forums.

I realized something watching her nibble at snacks the other day—Rebecca’s started lurking on Korean forums too.

The source of this c𝐨ntent is freёnovelkiss.com.

She’s probably run out of things to do in her usual spaces and is now peeking into other countries’ forums.

But her help wasn’t necessary.

We’re working toward merging our domains, but this is still a risky time.

Just yesterday, I heard the deafening roar of vehicles tearing down the road.

There were no gunshots, but the sound of multiple vehicles at this time of year carries a meaning far more chilling than gunfire.

There’s no need to bring everyone out of their safe havens just to build something here.

*

I decided to test my skills by building a house for Rebecca and her daughter.

How I’d transfer the boiler’s heat into the space was a problem for later. For now, I focused on the design.

Using two slate panels as a gabled roof, where the roof also doubled as the walls, I created a tent-like structure. I reinforced it with cement and some insulation.

Before starting serious work, I showed my draft design to the sniper duo.

“Oh my God.”

“Skelton, this is a dog house.”

The reaction wasn’t great.

They were horrified.

I tried to defend myself.

“Sure, the shape is simple, but keeping it small means it’ll retain heat with less fuel. Plus, I planned to build it next to the bathroom to transfer some warmth there as well.”

“Skelton, you love toilets too much.”

“Toilets are important.”

No matter how much I explained, the mother and daughter firmly rejected the idea.

“We’ll come over. Let’s build it together.”

In the end, the duo decided to join the cabin-building project.

They arrived at my domain early in the morning.

Rebecca, who usually stayed up all night on the internet and struggled with mornings, was visibly pushing herself. But I had insisted they come at dawn.

Rebecca, with her military uniform sleeves rolled up, had a sharp, feral look in her eyes—the same look she’d had when we first met.

“I’ll take the lead. Skelton, support me.”

It was clear she truly hated my triangular slate house.

Her razor-sharp determination stung my pride, but I couldn’t deny the truth. Rebecca was not just a soldier—she was an ace.

A workhorse.

She even brought blueprints. After reviewing the facilities I’d already built and my initial plans, she adjusted them with the precision of a craftsman. With a pencil tucked behind her ear, she scribbled mysterious English notes and symbols I couldn’t decipher before diving straight into work.

“Skelton, do you have a chainsaw?”

“I also have a hand saw.”

“Wow, Skelton, you’ve got everything.”

I didn’t mention that I’d taken most of it from Man-seok’s place.

Whirr!

While Sue stood guard on a hill with a rifle and binoculars, Rebecca and I got to work. We chopped wood, trimmed planks, sorted materials, and cleared the foundation for the cabin.

Maybe it was because we were working together, but we accomplished a lot in no time.

By sunset, as Rebecca was preparing to leave, I offered some advice.

“It’s good to make it nice, but keeping it inconspicuous is more important.”

“Got it.”

The next day, Rebecca returned with a revised blueprint.

Using the dummy bunker behind the new bathroom as a central structure, she designed the cabin to blend seamlessly with the surrounding hills and slopes, making it appear as if it were buried underground from the outside.

The rough yet precise drawing captured the essentials.

While I nodded in approval, Sue approached me.

“Mom stayed up all night working on that.”

I turned to Rebecca.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Pulling an all-nighter isn’t a big deal.”

In that case, there was no need to coddle her.

“Alright, let’s get started.”

*

Under Sue’s sharp vigilance, we worked quickly to build a new hideout.

Even as the summer greenery lingered on the hillside, the structure—a simple wooden and plywood cabin—began to take shape. When we finally finished, we were genuinely thrilled, exchanging words of praise for each other’s efforts. However, when I mentioned that I’d be staying right next to their cabin, a minor argument broke out.

“You promised you wouldn’t stay right next door,” Rebecca objected.

“I’ll put a wall between us,” I countered.

“That’ll ruin the blueprint!”

“No, it won’t. My house will be a Gold House.”

“A Gold House?”

“It’s... a thing.”

It was the same crude triangular house I had initially shown Rebecca and Sue.

As we continued our work, I noticed that the tension that had initially existed between us was gradually dissolving.

Rebecca, who I once thought was an incompetent soldier, turned out to be a surprisingly effective project leader. Sue, despite her age, was an observant and disciplined lookout, fully capable of staying calm even when gunshots rang out.

“Nom nom. Northeast, 3 kilometers out. No need to worry. Nom nom,” Sue reported casually over the comms.

Hearing this, I turned to Rebecca.

“For the love of God, teach your kid proper radio etiquette.”

“...”

“Didn’t you say your husband’s coming here eventually? He’ll hear this too, right?”

“Alright, fine.”

As we methodically prepared for winter—a season that is brutally impartial to all living things—I found myself reflecting on the chaotic but oddly comforting familiarity of the online forums I frequented.

Preparing for winter, at its core, is about ensuring that I and those I care about survive the biting cold and live to see the warmth of spring.

But a thought struck me:

If only I survive—or only we survive—will the coming spring truly feel warm?

Sure, it’s inevitable that some PaleNet friends might freeze to death.

But what if the people who have prepared, those who joined our forum to learn and share survival tips, don’t make it through the winter?

What if, next spring, the forum is sparse and empty?

How would that feel?

“Rebecca,” I said, “I want to do something productive for the forum.”

“You? Productive?”

“Yes, something meaningful. Maybe like DragonSee or Anonymous337, something that warms hearts and spreads positive energy.”

Rebecca stared at me. “Like what?”

“Can you post something on the Korean forum? Maybe a series about how we’re preparing for winter, documenting the process step by step.”

“Me? You have an account, don’t you?”

“Well... yeah, but I can’t post this with my account.”

“Why not?”

“It’s... complicated.”

The next day, a post appeared on the Korean apocalypse forum:

COOKIEMONSTER123

Title: Goddamn! Surviving a Korean Winter (1)

Rebecca had written a simple, serialized post about our winter preparations.

Her writing, though slightly awkward, displayed excellent pacing and wit. As a true internet addict, she even edited out all identifying background details in the photos, leaving the cabin’s surroundings blank white.

The response was lukewarm—two or three comments at most.

ㅇㅇ: “Why are you preparing for winter so early?”

Anonymous921: “A cabin? Isn’t that risky? What if it gets spotted?”

unicorn18: “Hmm.”

The comments weren’t exactly encouraging, but that wasn’t the point.

Even if one person read our post, took the advice to heart, and survived the winter, it would make this effort worthwhile.

As we juggled our online and offline projects, the temperature dropped. Finally, on a day when the afternoon heat no longer felt oppressive, we completed the cabin.

“Sue, look at this!”

Being American, Rebecca loved theatrics.

For the grand reveal, she covered the cabin in industrial-grade plastic I’d saved from my factory days. When Sue arrived, Rebecca dramatically pulled off the covering with a flourish.

“Ta-da! Our secret house!”

“Is this our new home?” Sue’s eyes sparkled with curiosity.

Rebecca smiled warmly, rubbing her cheek against her daughter’s. Sue, slightly uncomfortable, looked around.

“Skelton said he’d stay next to us through winter. Where’s your house, Skelton?”

I pointed to the triangular Gold House I’d set up beside their cabin.

“That’s your place?” Sue asked, wide-eyed.

“It’s a doghouse.”

*

COOKIEMONSTER123: Goddamn! Surviving a Korean Winter (FINAL)

Despite my good intentions, Rebecca's posts didn’t receive the widespread attention I’d hoped for.

Initially, the posts garnered three comments, then one or two for subsequent updates. By the latest two entries, there were no comments at all.

Seeing that, I started questioning everything.

Perhaps our attempt was just an empty echo, a meaningless effort.

But sometimes, good intentions are rewarded.

On the day the final installment was posted, a flood of twenty comments appeared all at once.

ㅇㅇ: "Persistent fellow, aren’t you?"

Anonymous931: "SS (Superb)."

berkut_break: "Haven’t seen a proper post like this on the forum in ages."

SKELTON: "(Skelton moved) Who built this? It’s gorgeous!"

Dies_irae69: "Looks inconspicuous even to drones. Shows some real experience."

gijayangban: "Scholar?"

...

Even with a few snarky remarks, most of the responses were positive.

It seemed that people had been quietly observing all along.

They had been watching the progress of this collaborative project by me, Rebecca, and Sue to survive the winter—perhaps with some anticipation.

None of them explicitly said they’d start preparing for winter.

But I’m certain we planted the seed of “winter” in their minds.

For that alone, our efforts feel validated.

“By the way, Skelton, why didn’t you post under your own username?” Sue asked over the comms.

“Well, that’s because...”

I paused, organizing my thoughts before answering honestly.

“There’s someone who can’t find out that I’m Skelton.”

“Why?”

“Why, you ask... Let’s just say I have my reasons.”

“Are you embarrassed to be Skelton?”

“...”

Lately, I’ve started to think Sue might actually be a bigger challenge than Rebecca.