Hiding a House in the Apocalypse-Chapter 81.1: Snowman (1)

ㅇㅇ: “The streets are littered with corpses. People freeze to death, get shot, or are beaten to death with clubs, house after house. How can you all be so indifferent?”

A user on Failnet was taking a jab at us.

But no one on our board paid them any mind.

Anonymous 1311: “Today’s snowman.”

Anonymous 458: “Snowman ver. 3.1.”

rokaGG: “Snowman!”

Anonymous 853: “I made a snowman too.”

Berkut_break: “I don’t usually follow trends, but this vibe got me making a snowman.”

mmmmmmmmm: “The Hope Palace—made of snow: ‘SNOW PALACE.’”

...

Even new users, obscure ones, and those with poor reputations were all talking about snowmen.

Why could we brush off this Failnet user's criticism so easily? Sure, tragedies like this happened every year, but perhaps it was because, as doomsday preppers, we harbored a deep-seated resentment.

Before the war, we preppers were harshly treated.

No one who hasn’t experienced it firsthand can understand how much ridicule and criticism we endured.

In a country like South Korea, where society enforces exemplary standards and severely sanctions those who deviate, becoming a doomsday prepper required not only significant resources but also immense determination.

From what I know, only Japan was tougher on preppers than South Korea.

In Japan, they went as far as tearing down bomb shelters built by rural elders overnight.

Koreans, with their reputation for being warmer, didn’t go that far—but it was bad enough.

Preppers were treated like fools, seen as immature, maladjusted individuals.

In the Joseon era, an unmarried man wearing braided hair would have faced less ridicule than a modern South Korean prepper.

There was even a comedian, Hwang Dae-seop, who built his entire career mocking preppers on TV.

Even someone like me, who rarely watched television, learned about his show through YouTube.

One episode sticks with me:

A skinny, disheveled man with sunken eyes (played by Hwang Dae-seop) hoards meat at a grocery store, preparing for doomsday. But the apocalypse never comes. Time passes peacefully, symbolized by a rapidly spinning clock and a backdrop showing days and nights blurring together.

Then, his ancient fridge breaks down, threatening to spoil all his meat. He starts binge-eating like a competitive eater until he can’t stomach anymore, retching in a grotesque manner before turning to the camera in despair.

The episode ends there.

Hwang Dae-seop made several similar episodes mocking preppers.

Even as a prepper, I found them funny.

The show was called “The Prepper Next Door” if I remember correctly—a pun inspired by real estate speculators nicknamed “Crashers,” who hoped for property prices to plummet.

Anyway, we endured social ridicule and scorn to an extreme degree. So why should we feel sympathy for the suffering masses now?

If anything, their pain and grim fates validate that we were right all along.

Failnet’s anonymous user’s jab felt like just another baseless insult.

ㅇㅇ: “You’re not even human. People are dying! The government is just standing by! I thought this was your gimmick, but you’re actually insane...”

No one cared about their rant.

In fact, some users suggested outright banning the nickname “ㅇㅇ,” commonly used by anonymous posters, from the board.

When Failnet users first joined us, they were amusing enough. But as life got harder, their posts became more bitter, to the point that many of our board members advocated for stricter communication among ourselves.

Many had already blocked "ㅇㅇ."

Still, not all anonymous users were combative.

Some were surprisingly willing to join in on our snowman trend, even without satellite equipment to show off.

For example:

ㅇㅇ: “I made a snowman too...”

ㅇㅇ: “The best snowman artisan in Incheon.”

ㅇㅇ: “A masterpiece by the Snow Artist, ‘Untitled 0013.’”

These were the kind of Failnet users who harmonized with our board.

As for me, I had my own reasons to resent society.

I’d been labeled a misfit, an immature dreamer, and a failure.

While I wouldn’t laugh at the mass deaths in Incheon, I didn’t feel any particular sympathy either. It was just something that should’ve happened a year or two ago finally catching up.

Naturally, I joined the snowman-making trend.

But as someone sensitive to trends yet determined to maintain my individuality, I couldn’t settle for an ordinary snowman.

I needed something unique, something worthy of admiration.

The problem was, I hadn’t made a snowman since childhood.

So, I decided to take a new approach: exploring international boards.

Using Melon Musk’s superior auto-translation tools, I scoured boards in the U.S., Canada, and Europe—regions known for valuing art.

I found a few posts, but none struck a chord.

What about Japan?

Despite being a close neighbor, Japan hadn’t been significant since the war began. Their total lockdown policy effectively erased them from the map.

Still, I stumbled upon posts from two years ago by a user named H. Sawatari from Hokkaido. They’d created vibrant snow-themed posts.

“...”

I felt like I’d struck gold.

Among their works, I found something perfect for a beginner to replicate: a snow rabbit. Simple, cute, and high-quality.

It was the ideal first project.

Current temperature: -15°C.

The cold was tolerable compared to -30°C.

I began sculpting in a secluded spot, ensuring my location couldn’t be pinpointed.

The day’s atmosphere felt tense. A cluster of drones hovered near the airport, likely belonging to King’s gang, which had attacked the area before.

Still, they posed no threat to my passion.

Following H. Sawatari’s advice, I shaped the snow into a droplet, smoothed its surface with my trowel, and added details like frozen camellia petals for ears and red holly berries for eyes.

When I stepped back to admire my work, I couldn’t help but nod in satisfaction.

I had successfully “reinterpreted” H. Sawatari’s creation.

Click.

I took photos from various angles and uploaded them to the board.

SKELTON: (Skelton Art) “Untitled 1972.”

The response came quickly.

Anonymous 458: “Oh, cute.”

Anonymous 1311: “Not bad for Skelton.”

Two comments.

For me, that was practically praise.

As expected, Da-jeong messaged me.

SeamonkeyPAPA: “What’s this? Did Skelton make that? Cute!”

SKELTON: “Felt like showing off a little.”

Though I wanted to ask how Da-jeong was doing, I decided to hold off. Today, I was not just Skelton—I was an artist.

More comments trickled in as I exchanged a few brief messages with her.

ㅇㅇ: "So cute and adorable!"

(Comment from a blocked user.)

rokaGG: "Did you really make this yourself?"

ㅇㅇ: "Feels like I’ve seen this somewhere before..."

Four new comments.

One of them, I think, was from Dies_Irae.

This chapter is updat𝙚d by freeweɓnovel.cøm.

But this wasn’t the end.

Foxgames: "Oh, a snow rabbit? Looks like the ones I saw at the Hokkaido Snow Festival."

Berkut_break: "Your concept overlaps with mine, huh?"

mmmmmmmmm: "Hmm..."

gijayangban: "?"

The comments kept rolling in.

The likes remained stuck at two, but popularity on the board wasn’t determined by likes—it was all about the number of comments.

People are naturally drawn to posts with a high comment count.

From my experience writing several trending posts, getting this many comments early on meant there was a good chance this post would climb to the top.

Still, I couldn’t be satisfied with just this.

I opened my "Snowman" folder, flipping through the collection of works by H. Sawatari, pondering my next project.

After an hour of brainstorming, I returned to my post.

A couple more comments had been added.

But that was it.

It didn’t make the trending list.

Perhaps it lacked the final touch needed for a hit.

Then again, this was my first piece—and honestly, it wasn’t anything extraordinary.

Starting with my next project, I’ll make sure to hit the trending list.

For now, I was curious about what my competitors were creating.

I clicked on the trending posts section.

Amidst the flood of snowman posts, one entry stood out.

It wasn’t about snowmen.

Hwang Dae-seop: "Hey, losers. How’s life?"

“?”

A photo was attached.

I clicked the post.

The picture showed a shabby, run-down residence as its backdrop. In the foreground, a man in his fifties, clearly in poor health, took a selfie.

That face.

There was no mistaking it.

It was him.

The same Hwang Dae-seop who mocked us doomsday preppers louder than anyone else.

*

Every Genre Has an Expiration Date

Comedy is no exception.

Once a beloved form of entertainment, comedy programs, much like Western films, faded away with the changing times.

There are many theories as to why, but I agree with the notion that their humor simply became too outdated to keep up with an increasingly harsh world.

Hwang Dae-seop, a washed-up comedian, was different from others.

He sought a way to survive by transforming old-fashioned humor into something modern.

His target? Doomsday preppers—a group widely criticized and ridiculed at the time.

Sure enough, “The Prepper Next Door” became a phenomenon from the very first episode.

Plenty of people hated us preppers, seeing us as eccentric nuisances who’d only be vindicated if the world ended. But Hwang Dae-seop went further than anyone by openly mocking us on national television.

Naturally, Hwang Dae-seop became public enemy number one among preppers.

Every time he mocked us, our reputation hit rock bottom.

Some preppers even reported being stalked by kids imitating his impressions, an unforgettable and humiliating experience.

As is often the case with hits, his show spawned countless imitators.

Though Hwang Dae-seop lacked the technical skill to sustain his initial success, he rode the wave of mocking preppers into a second heyday, earning a fortune.

And, perhaps, genuinely despising us.

When the war broke out and the apocalypse began, Hwang Dae-seop’s name gradually faded away.

If he were alive, he would’ve shown up somewhere, but no reports surfaced.

Some speculated that famous celebrities had fled to Jeju Island, but most agreed Hwang Dae-seop wouldn’t have been invited.

A man whose sole talent was making people laugh at others wouldn’t be welcome in a place like that.

Meanwhile, the preppers he mocked transitioned from being objects of ridicule to symbols of foresight and envy.

Hwang Dae-seop, long past his prime, was presumed dead and all but forgotten.

Until now.

Three years after the war began, Hwang Dae-seop reappeared on Viva! Apocalypse!, the prepper hall of fame.

Judging by his Korean username, he was connecting from Failnet.

I had only one question:

Why?

Why had the man who had so viciously smeared us returned now?

dongtanmom: “Yum-yum... Who’s this no-name loser? Yum-yum...”

Let’s ignore Dongtanmom’s comment.

She’s a board user but not a prepper, so her opinion doesn’t matter.

Despite the shocking appearance of Hwang Dae-seop, none of us preppers were commenting.

Though he was gaunt, sickly-looking, and dressed in rags, the face was unmistakable.

Hwang Dae-seop was still Hwang Dae-seop.

Seeing that mocking glint in his eyes was enough to reignite the bitterness we had buried since before the war.

Amid the cold indifference of the board, Hwang Dae-seop posted again.

Hwang Dae-seop: “I made a snowman too, losers. LOL.”

He attached a photo.

The setting wasn’t pristine white but dark and grimy, likely by a busy roadside.

At the center stood something vaguely snowman-like.

But it wasn’t a snowman.

It was a person.

A corpse, covered in snow.

The shape suggested it was likely a woman.

Beneath the photo, Hwang Dae-seop left a single comment.

Hwang Dae-seop: “Title: Wife.”