Chapter 48

Chapter 48
Safe Zone nickname: Shut-in Hubby.

Shut-in Hubby grew up with business-owning parents and never lacked material comfort, but a sickly childhood filled with hospital stays kept him out of school. By the time he was of age, his social skills were so warped that making friends was impossible. Everyone from his parents and doctors to his harsh older sister always catered to the frail boy, leaving him entirely unconcerned about others. When he finally tried to change, he became the target of school bullying that stripped away his family’s wealth. Discovering this, his parents pulled him out immediately.

“Yeobom. You don’t have to go to school. You don’t have to go to college. You don’t have to get a job. Live doing whatever you want.”

Shut-in Hubby understood his parents spoke not because such a life was truly fine, but because his illness remained uncured, every day was a miracle, and he should spend his remaining time in ease.

What I want to do…

He longed for school and peers. When his parents asked why he hid the bullying, he realized he had never recognized it as such. Those brief instances when kids shared snacks or paused so he could keep pace had felt immensely precious.

If I’m not going to live much longer anyway, I don’t want to worry Mom and Dad…

Consequently, Shut-in Hubby withdrew completely, becoming a hikikomori gamer who directed all his pent-up frustration at the internet.

Dopamine Addict posted a new guide!

Dopamine Addict.

His sister had compelled him to play a middle-aged romance simulation. The game Apocalypse: Safety Zone clearly mirrored it, and Dopamine Addict was among Shut-in Hubby’s greatest idols. Even when others labeled his guides sociopathic, Dopamine Addict posted them unflinchingly, which felt remarkably cool. His indifferent attitude toward popularity somehow generated an entire devoted following, a feat Shut-in Hubby deeply envied.

I want to get close to him.

To draw closer to Dopamine Addict, Shut-in Hubby applied the dating-sim tactics he had mastered. Everyone else praised and idolized him as hyung, so a different method was necessary. Standing out would catch Dopamine Addict’s attention. Writing the kind of remarks a creator of amoral, sociopathic guides would appreciate seemed obvious, prompting Shut-in Hubby to leave a confident comment.

SHUTINHUBBY

wtf are you insane? how the hell is anyone supposed to copy this, you psychopath bastard.

Heh.

The art of complimenting someone under the guise of harsh language. The top three remarks an amoral guide author craved were “Author seems like a psychopath,” “This is crazy,” and “Only you could pull this off”—blended in precise proportions. With such advanced tactics, Dopamine Addict was bound to take notice.

Unaware that Dopamine Addict was personally deleting those abusive comments one by one, Shut-in Hubby diligently left praise and replies on every guide. Only after being blocked immediately following the publication of the knife guide did he realize something had gone wrong.

I got blocked…?!

“Why!! Why the hell!!”

Shut-in Hubby wept more bitterly than he had the day school bullying severed his ties to peers. Days passed in a depression where he avoided the game entirely. Creating a secondary account to re-enter the community eventually revealed an unexpected rumor.

The heavy users disappeared?

He quickly checked Dopamine Addict’s profile, finding no login activity for several days.

He always used to vanish for a few days at a time…

Reviewing the logs of other prominent users revealed that Home Protector—who constantly hovered around Dopamine Addict—also lacked recent logins, leaving Shut-in Hubby stunned.

T-that guy isn’t logging in? Did he really go missing?

Shut-in Hubby began investigating the missing heavy users. Another player soon supplied an address for a specific convenience store—the Safety Zone collaboration location Dopamine Addict posted right before blocking him. Shut-in Hubby traveled straight there. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, he purchased a cola and walked out, only to be possessed.

Forced into enlistment by Tibalom and subjected to grueling daily training, life turned out surprisingly bearable. The possessed body possessed robust health, complete with a regenerative healing factor. Furthermore, the player he assumed was Tibalom turned out to be the genuine Dopamine Addict.

As long as Dopamine Addict is on my side, the apocalypse isn’t a problem.

Thanks to that reckless individual successfully executing the illegitimate-child guide to become Young Master Haydam, military routines had grown significantly easier.

“The furred crocodile’s tail was flying right at my face, and in that instant Haydam stepped in front of me and—wham!”

“Huk, no way!”

“Exactly. Haydam took the hit for me.”

One senior soldier listening to Shut-in Hubby’s heroic fabrication shouted in excitement.

“Holy shit, so the injury from that rumored fight with the furred crocodile—he got it protecting you?!”

“That’s right.”

“Whoa, insane!”

Another senior chimed in with unconcealed suspicion.

“No way. Why would he do that for a washout like you?”

“I already told you. Haydam promised long ago that he would put me to good use.”

“Yeah, but why you? The guy already has someone as incredible as Commander Meursault at his side.”

Shut-in Hubby glared at the senior.

“I can’t go into detail, but I have an incredible talent.”

“What talent? The talent for pissing people off?”

“A guy who still talks like a civilian going on about talent is pretty pissing-off, yeah.”

“Are you questioning Haydam’s judgment right now?”

“W-well, not exactly, but—”

Haydam had already summoned Shut-in Hubby privately several times, causing the doubtful senior to mutter a noncommittal response and drop the matter. The other seniors, aware of Haydam and Shut-in Hubby’s close ties dating back to the pork-belly party, still treated him lightly but refrained from outright bullying.

At that moment, a barracks door opened, and a soldier spotted Shut-in Hubby, calling out as he approached.

“Hey, Assa. You’ve got leave.”

Shut-in Hubby immediately assumed a haughty demeanor.

“Well, well. Speak of the tiger and it appears. Haydam must be calling for me again.”

“You say weird things sometimes. What’s a tiger? You mean a butterfly tiger?”

“Why would a butterfly tiger appear when I talk about it?”

Shut-in Hubby brushed off the oblivious game NPC unfamiliar with Korean idioms and questioned the soldier.

“The Commander’s residence again?”

“No.”

The approaching soldier handed over a leave pass.

“Errand this time. You’re from the Slums, right?”

“Ah, yes.”

Recalling Haydam instructing him to write “orphan from the Slums” on his enlistment papers, he nodded as the soldier continued.

“Go to the Slums and bring something back.”

“Bring… what?”

“You’ll know what once you get there, apparently.”

You’ll know once you arrive at the Slums…?

Did Dopamine Addict order this?

At this stage, the sole person likely to dispatch him to the Slums on an errand was Dopamine Addict. Yet that individual would have communicated directly rather than using a random soldier. Despite knowing subordinates shouldn’t question orders, Shut-in Hubby pressed further.

“Whose order is this?”

Predictably, the soldier’s expression hardened into a steady glare.

“Why do you care? You planning not to go depending on whose order it is?”

For a fleeting second, Shut-in Hubby felt an intense urge to throw a tantrum on the floor and scream about his ties to the Commander’s son. However, the soldier belonged to the newly promoted lieutenant general’s faction—a subordinate of a pro-Daphne officer. Haydam’s influence held no sway here.

“Ah, no. I’ll go.”

Swallowing his sarcastic retort, Shut-in Hubby answered. Besides, he knew the Slums of the Cola Area better than any local resident, meaning there would be no complications.

Preparations for the military academy graduation ceremony were underway when Meursault delivered startling news.

“Darling Outsider isn’t in the barracks right now?”

“Yes.”

“Finally deserted, huh.”

My casual joke drew no reaction from Meursault’s expression.

“…Huh? For real?”

“It’s a little ambiguous.”

“Ambiguous how?”

“According to the other soldiers, he went to the Slums on an errand.”

“An errand?”

Frowning, I inquired.

“Who besides me would send that guy on an errand?”

“They said they don’t know who ordered it.”

“Have you checked the Slums?”

“Yes. But by the time I arrived he had already moved elsewhere.”

“Moved elsewhere? A soldier went AWOL and they’re just leaving it?”

“His leave pass says return by midnight tonight, so they told me to wait until then.”

“A kid disappeared and never mind.”

Considering the Apocalypse setting, a missing child soldier was hardly extraordinary. Furthermore, Shut-in Hubby was a player rather than a literal child, meaning real danger was unlikely.

He said he was twenty…

From my perspective, twenty still qualified as youth, however.

Once the graduation’s over I’ll go look for him.

True to form, Meursault anticipated my thoughts with uncanny precision.

“I’ll have a vehicle ready once the ceremony ends.”

“…Yeah. Thanks, Meursault.”

Pausing while slipping into my jacket, I pressed further.

“But are you really going to join the subjugation campaign?”

“I don’t understand why everyone is so worried. I am a soldier, after all.”

“Because you’re doing something you never do.”

“I have participated in subjugation campaigns before. Always at the very rear, admittedly.”

“This time you said you’ll move with me. Front line.”

“I ran the numbers in my own way.”

“What numbers?”

“The calculation that staying by Haydam’s side is safer than the rear.”

The logic was sound. Even so, if his proximity stemmed purely from a calculated safety measure and peril befell him later, facing Daphne would prove difficult. Still, what could possibly go wrong…

“By the way, what scheme have you cooked up with Cadet Platon?”

“Scheme? Anyone listening would think I was plotting something at the kids’ graduation.”

“You are plotting something.”

Meursault retorted, tilting his head in muttered reflection.

“The kids’ graduation? You’re more of a kid yourself…”

“Meursault, you going to keep mumbling? We’ll be late.”

“Are you really not going to tell me what you planned?”

“Go listen for yourself.”

Shrugging off his inquiry, I flashed a playful grin at Meursault.

“Come to think of it, Meursault, you’re not a military academy graduate, right?”

“No. As you know, parent connections matter a great deal for the academy.”

Orphans comprised over eighty percent of the zone’s population, yet a wealthy bourgeois class persisted. Only children of high-ranking officers like Platon or wards sponsored by figures like Bones secured entry. Meursault’s obsession with familial status—having clawed his way up from child soldier to major general—likely stemmed from this deeply unfair system.

“Parent connections… I really hate that kind of thing.”

“Excuse me? Coming from the person who exploits parent connections more than anyone, that sounds like hypocrisy.”

“Maybe so.”

“Wait. You don’t mean—”

I grinned broadly at Meursault, who caught on instantly.

“Look forward to Platon’s speech.”