Hiding the House in the Apocalypse

37. Immortal (2)

It’s been a while since I’ve seen the sea.

Especially seeing the sea embracing the setting sun.

Sitting on a camping chair, he stared blankly as the red sun entered the sea and dyed it its own color.

When dusk covered the fields, Mr. Dragon appeared with a fragrant scent.

“Go get a cup of coffee.”

Mr. Dragon was a well-prepared destructionist.

His shelter wasn’t as overpowering as mine, but it was larger and more comfortable than any shelter I’ve ever seen, and he had plenty of food.

The interesting part was the weapon.

Mr. Dragon, like me, had a Chinese-made rifle.

“There was a time when the bodies of Chinese soldiers were washed up in the sea not long after the war began. I was swept away a lot. The ROK submarines took their fleet to a screeching halt. Two ships broke in half and sank offshore. Then some corpses came in and I snatched a few.”

The most impressive thing was the coffee.

Two and a half years had passed since the war started, and he still had coffee beans.

“Half of my soul is made up of alcohol and cigarettes and half of coffee.”

It’s not just coffee.

He even had an espresso machine like you would find in a professional cafe.

I waited for our barista’s cup with a smile on my face.

While he was roasting the beans, I looked inside his air-raid shelter.

empty and desolate

Although the toilet was not located in the center like mine, the cracks and condensation marks on the rough-finished concrete, and mold marks growing here and there clearly showed that constructing an air-raid shelter was not an easy task.

Mr. Dragon tried to alleviate the gloomy air of the air raid shelter by attaching familiar webtoon posters that probably belonged to his work, but the piled up bottles of alcohol and empty cigarette packs in the corner evoked chills and a kind of pity.

Cigarettes are cigarettes, but the fact that all alcoholic beverages are over 40 percent alcohol left a strong impression.

Hundreds of bottles of that stuff have already been emptied.

Is that why? Why is his complexion so bad?

“How are you feeling?”

“me? Does it look bad?”

“little.”

“Because I’m taking medicine. You don’t have to worry. Anyway, take a look here. This is my workshop, Mr. Dragon.”

In one corner of the shelter, there were wooden dolls, various how-to books and anatomy books, a printer, several lights, auxiliary monitors, and a workbench equipped with a tablet. Numerous writings and storyboards scattered across his desk were professional enough to make us guess that he was a professional writer.

There was also a dainty prop in one corner of the desk.

An imitation goldfish the size of a thumb was floating in the water in a small fishbowl.

The goldfish moved as if it were alive by turning its stupid face around on a plastic subject.

As I was watching the goldfish float and move in a daze, Mr. Dragon offered me a cup of coffee.

“oh.”

it’s good.

How long has it been since I’ve had the proper coffee?

Involuntarily, I opened my eyes wide and stared at the dark liquid in the warm glass.

“There is another one, so don’t save it and drink it. Honestly, it’s nothing compared to calling this long and dangerous road.”

Mr. Dragon beckoned us to go outside.

The sea was already stained with darkness.

Looking at the jet-black sea, two community users sat side by side and looked at the dark sea and the stars rising above it one by one.

“… I was not a latecomer.”

Looking up at the stars, Mr. Dragon started talking with a hazy smile.

“Rather, he was a foolish guy who jumped into the path of comics even before graduating from high school.”

Even in Korea when Mr. Dragon was young, a weekly comic strip magazine called Champ style continued to exist.

It is difficult to understand now, but at the time, there was a perception that paper book comics were superior to and superior to webtoons that were just starting to emerge.

Mr. Dragon was one of them.

“The thrill of turning the pages of a book. That’s why I love cartoons. I thought scrolling wasn’t that fun.”

My first impression of Mr. Dragon was that he was older than I thought and that he seemed difficult to get along with.

But he seems to be a heavenly cartoonist.

“So come on the whole page with a villain exuding an unmatchable force, you bastard is really strong! I mean, it gave me this image. Then the reader wonders. How the hell am I supposed to beat this bastard? With that impatience, with curiosity, and with a desire to see the bad guy beaten up, he just turns the pages!”

When you talk about the subject matter of comics, you can go back to being a boy as young as Eom Chang.

“At least in one comic book, I can open and close the world as much as I want. Webtoon, well, it could be like that. But the world in the palm of your hand and the world that isn’t, the world that clicks, well. something different I can’t pinpoint it, but I can’t explain it.”

His life, which began a little haphazardly, came into contact with the problem he was facing like flowing water.

“There was a time when I thought that I, who drew such cartoons, was superior to other guys. It’s true. The seniors and classmates who were students together had similar thoughts. But talent is something I couldn’t help it. Even if the tools are different and the way of expression is different, there is no area where the difference in talent is felt with the eyes as much as in painting. I don’t know because I haven’t played music, but I can see pictures with my eyes, right?”

Mr. Dragon’s eyes crossed the sea, and he was thinking of a man who had humiliated him to the extent that his face turned red.

“Whether it’s a webtoon or a paper comic, a guy who draws well draws well. A guy like Pilcrum is that guy.”

“He did draw a little bit. He was particularly good at drawing women.”

“Well, if you were born in Japan, you might have sold 10 million copies.”

“Hmm, is that enough?”

“If you look at the line, you can see it. Besides, those guys are easy to draw. I have to draw a line as if I’m f*cking crazy about it and color it in as a rough sketch to finally complete a cut. But is a simple drawing more complete than what I’ve been holding on to for hours? It’s not just a matter of painting. Just thinking about the composition, the directing comes out well, of course. That’s where the difference comes from. Besides, even my hands were slow. The way I worked was too cumbersome.”

“how?”

“I have to write to remind myself of something. Even if I did a continuity, I had to write a continuity and then another continuity.”

“It sure is cumbersome.”

Mr. Dragon poured out the remaining coffee and let out a deep sigh.

“…it’s the difference in talent.”

I don’t have anything else to add about this.

The fact that each person has no choice but to have a difference in ability is the part that I feel most keenly than anyone else.

However, Mr. Dragon was at least the owner of a stronger spirit than me.

“However, cartoons are not all pictures. After all, even cartoonists are storytellers in a broad sense, right?”

“That’s right.”

“Honestly, I think I’m above Pilcrum when it comes to storytelling. furthermore.”

Took

Mr. Dragon lightly tapped my arm.

“There are also top models.”

“My call sign is Dandy, not Professor. DANDY”

“know. know. But I’ll keep it a secret. Of course, the identity of the model who actively responded to the research should be kept secret.”

“You’re dandy.”

“How about Typhoon?”

“… Typhoon?”

I thought it was pretty cool.

A thousand times more than Dandy.

It is truly a naming that conveys the keen sense of a professional writer.

“I’m going to draw a short story of an active hunter Typhoon, a former guard, active in China. A mixture of reality and psychological portrayal.”

Mr. Dragon clenched his right fist, which was covered with calluses.

“I’m going to fight him at his base. It flattens your nose.”

“Ohh.”

“Come on, go to sleep! Oh billion! Uhhh!!!”

Mr. Dragon, who had shown such intense confidence, suddenly grabbed his stomach and complained of pain.

It looks like a lot of pain.

Seeing you tremble all the way to your toes.

“… f*ck.”

With a face whiter than the moon, Mr. Dragon muttered.

“What?”

“······No, it’s just a seizure. It’s like a chronic disease.”

Bottles of alcohol piled up in the air-raid shelter covered my eyes.

So many soloists.

Maybe that was the driving force that kept a man who had to live in a mediocre state for the rest of his life, but at the same time it might have been the death disease that ate him.

“Isn’t that very bad? Your face really looked bad from the start.”

“are you okay. You can still hold on. There are also medicines. I won’t be able to live until my 60th birthday, but if I die after surviving for about 5 years, wouldn’t everyone be dead by then?”

“Can’t you last three years?”

“I?”

Mr. Dragon showed his dislike.

The misunderstanding was immediately cleared.

“no. we.”

“It’s a former Hunter opinion, so I have more faith.”

Mr. Dragon tried to put a smile on his frowning face and looked at the distant sea.

Lights shimmer on a small island in the distance.

Is it the Chinese army?

Anyway, the time for parting has come.

Mr. Dragon chewed and swallowed a few pills without water, then raised his thumb at me.

“thank you. Skelton. Thanks to you, I can hold the pen again.”

He handed me a crumpled piece of paper.

There was a synopsis of a short story modeled after me, written in scribbled handwriting, against Pilcrum this time.

“Failnet fire. Be sure to watch!”

he waved at me

I gave him a thumbs up and replied.

“······My call sign is Dandy.”

“Stop!”

After a while, Mr. Dragon swallowed the pill and returned to me.

While complaining of terrible pain, he held out a heavy paper bag to me with a cheerful face as if he had never done that.

“This?”

“This is my little gift. It’s my little collection.”

“A small collection?”

“A collection of short stories? There are also some ideas. Read it when you’re bored. It won’t be fun, but it’ll be enough to pass the time.”

“Is this something precious?”

“That’s a copy.”

“I think a file would suffice.”

“Did I tell you before? I like the feeling of reading comics while flipping through them. Whether it’s something printed or viewed on a monitor, that’s probably it.”

“Oh, thank you.”

“ah.”

Mr. Dragon suddenly let out an exclamation.

He turned to me and gave me a boyish mischievous smile.

“I’m sorry, but can I see you later?”

“?”

“Looking at it now, it seems like a spoiler.”

“hmm.”

“Please. Skeleton.”

A named user who is older than me asks for it, but I can’t refuse.

“My callsign is…”

“Dandy!”

*

A cartoon was posted on the bulletin board of Failnet’s manga series.

Written by DragonC.

The short tells the story of an old-school hunter operating in China.

He has enough skills, but thanks to the fact that he always lacks 2%, he stays in A-rank for his later years and shows a morbid obsession with S-rank.

Then one day a crisis came.

A medium-sized monster appeared in an unexpected area, and the escape route was blocked by a necromancer type who took control of the back by teleportation and a zombie that it raised up.

Combat has become a matter of life and death rather than rank.

Colleagues fell one after another.

The only thing I can fight now is that one. He notices that it is difficult to avoid death in a state of exhaustion after dealing with a horde of zombies that have taken over the road, and he glares at the medium-sized monster blocking the road.

The whispers of the surviving comrades were heard.

That Hunter, Typhoon, has already far surpassed the S rank.

“······hmm.”

It seems like 2% is not enough for what you call a masterpiece.

Just like the main character’s call sign “Typhoon”.

However, the serious and silent protagonist, thorough exclusion of romance, and above all, historical research based on reality and realistic depiction of battles were enough to generate word of mouth among fussy Failnet readers.

Mr. Dragon uploaded a high-definition version of his new “Typhoon” to our bulletin board at some time interval.

The response was understandably enthusiastic.

Anonymous848: wow

keystone: It’s the first time a hunter battle has been so realistic.

Dies_irae69 : Combat history is no joke.

THE_LAST_MAN : Kill it

Anonymous 458: I ate a shot at Pilcrum and came out sharpening my knife.

kimcic: It’s also Mr. Dragon. Our Dragon is the best!

unicorn18 : There are no females… This is no fun…

Gijayangban: It’s historically real. Did you get some advice from the old school?

James_Catterer: wow

James_Catterer : Can somebody translate this to English? 🙂

“hey. Skelton. Did you see the cartoon that Mr. Dragon just uploaded?”

Defender contacted me.

I responded to the call, wondering what the standard for the alternative would be between the seobang and the skeleton.

“I saw it.”

“It is 100%. I’m sure there is a Hunter who knows. There are some things that are a little old, but this is something that only those who have played the field know.”

At this, I only smiled softly.

Dragon-san isn’t the only one who has sworn an oath of confidentiality.