Chapter 3

The Apocalypse Game I Created Became Reality Chapter 3

[184-Day Survival Preparation Plan]

“...”

For a while, I simply stared at that sentence.

Roughly six months.

A period of time that could be considered short or long.

‘The world will end in 184 days.’

For someone who knew that fact, this time was an extremely precious lifeline.

Creak.

I slowly leaned back in my chair.

“Let’s organize things first.”

I couldn’t act emotionally.

The guy who created an apocalypse game panics and rushes out to loot a supermarket before there are even any signs of the end?

There could hardly be anything more idiotic than that.

‘Besides, I didn’t make Last Protocol into that kind of game in the first place.’

It wasn’t a game where you grabbed a gun, slaughtered zombies by yourself, and went on an unstoppable rampage.

To be precise, it was a game where users who thought that way died first.

‘Early-stage mortality rate: 91%.’

Those were statistics from the test server I had personally overseen.

More than half of the users failed to make it through the tutorial.

The majority of users failed to establish their first base.

And amid all that, the most common complaints were.

- This game is seriously way too hard.

- It’s fucking unfriendly as hell.

- Fucking trash game. You call this a game?

- The developers are seriously committed to killing people. I’m quitting, later.

We had never intended to make the game easy from the start.

That was simply what surviving in a ruined world was like.

I opened the folder on the external hard drive again.

[WorldSetting_v0.7]

[Phase0_EventFlow]

[InfectionRules_Draft]

[EarlySurvivalBalance]

[ResourceSpawnTable]

[ShelterDesign_Prototype]

[BuildSystem_Unreleased]

[Season2_UpdatePlan]

[HiddenEvent_Table]

“...As expected, it’s all here.”

A sigh of relief escaped me without my realizing it.

Because the files in front of me were the key.

‘The other users also know a certain amount about Last Protocol.’

Even if it was a failed game, it had been in service for a year.

It had a proper community of its own, and guides were still scattered across YouTube and various online communities.

『<​Last Protocol> Essential Early Survival Tips!』

『<​Last Protocol> How to Avoid Zombies』

『<​Last Protocol> Recommended Bases for Beginners』

『<​Last Protocol> Hidden Farming Routes』

Even just searching for ‘Last Protocol’ right now brought up quite a lot of information.

‘Not just the users. The other employees probably know plenty too.’

The planning team, development team, art team, operations team, and so on.

Each of them would know the parts they had been responsible for inside and out.

But.

‘The only person who knows everything is me.’

I moved the mouse.

The list of files on the screen scrolled downward.

[InfectionVariant_Stage3]

[MilitaryCollapse_Route]

[WinterPatch_Draft]

[MutantNest_Prototype]

[UndergroundBunkerBalance]

[AdminScenario_Private]

For reference, these were files that had never been released to the public.

Systems that had been cut midway through planning.

Regions scheduled for future patches.

Infected variants meant to be introduced in Season 2.

Disaster events that had still been in development.

And even the survival build system that had been scrapped before its official update.

‘Most of it passed through my hands.’

I had been responsible for system planning and development.

To put it grandly, I was the main producer.

To put it a little more frankly, I was the guy who forcibly stitched together the game’s framework under the disastrous schedule the team leader had pushed through.

For better or worse.

‘Last Protocol is the game with more of my fingerprints on it than anyone else’s.’

That was why I knew it so well.

How the game worked.

Where users tended to die.

Which bases lost their usefulness and became traps in the mid-game.

And which seemingly useless resources became worth their weight in gold after 90 days.

‘Knowing all of that, what should I do first?’

No matter how much I thought about it, I needed to secure ‘money’ first.

Supplies cost money, equipment cost money, and land cost money.

Even a bunker ultimately came down to money.

But the balance in my bank account was utterly miserable.

‘...28 million won.’

That was the total after scraping together my savings, installment savings, stocks, and cryptocurrency.

Severance pay?

I would probably get it.

‘But when?’

Before that happened, there was no telling what the company might try to do to me.

On top of that, I had nowhere to ask for help.

‘Because I’m an orphan.’

A sigh escaped me naturally.

In that case, there was only one option left.

‘Should I at least take out an employee credit loan?’

The problem was that I had quit my job yesterday.

‘But there’s a high chance the system still has me listed as employed.’

Right.

Before my resignation was processed, this was my last chance.

“...”

Even so, I couldn’t help agonizing over it for a long time.

‘Is this really the right thing to do?’

What if the apocalypse never came?

Then I would be buried in debt.

It was already difficult enough to find another job, and on top of that I’d have loans?

My life would simply be over.

But...

‘...What if the apocalypse really does come?’

A world where supplies become more important than cash.

After the end, when money becomes nothing more than scraps of paper.

In that hellscape where repayment dates on loans no longer mean anything...

‘I’ll still be alive.’

A hollow laugh suddenly escaped me.

“Life really is fucking spectacular.”

The day after I practically got driven out of my job because I caught the company CEO doing that with the accountant.

I was considering taking out a loan to prepare for the apocalypse.

Click.

Eventually shaking off my stray thoughts, I quickly skimmed through the 「Scenario Log」.

[Existing social systems will remain operational during the period before the Great Collapse.]

[Financial, real estate, logistics, and administrative systems will operate normally for approximately 150 days.]

[Caution: Excessive actions may attract social scrutiny and suspicion.]

“...”

Society would continue functioning normally for roughly 150 days.

In other words, social infrastructure would remain intact for about another five months.

Deliveries would still arrive, the internet would still work, loans would still be available, and real estate contracts went without saying. Buying food wouldn’t be a problem either.

‘This is the most precious period in any apocalypse story.’

Because this was, in other words, the preparation period for survival.

“...Good.”

I slowly nodded.

At the same time, I formed a plan in my head.

- Stage 1: Secure funds.

- Stage 2: Secure a base.

- Stage 3: Stockpile supplies.

- Stage 4: Physical training.

- Stage 5: Organize information.

- Stage 6: Go into seclusion immediately before the Great Collapse.

Assuming I managed to secure a certain amount of money, the next most important thing was a base.

‘Ordinary residences, especially apartments, are the worst.’

There are too many people, stairways and elevators become bottlenecks, and even sound carries easily.

If things go wrong, you can end up exposed to infected people from every direction.

If the electricity goes out, the water supply is also affected.

Even in the actual game, apartments were a trap beginners often fell into.

At first they look safe, like a concrete utopia, but only a few days later, hell begins.

‘Then where?’

I opened the [ShelterDesign_Prototype] file.

Several base candidates soon appeared.

- Urban studio apartment

- Detached house

- Abandoned factory

- Farm hut

- Underground warehouse

- Near a military base

- Mountain lodge

“Hmm...”

The information rapidly organized itself in my mind.

‘A small underground workshop. It needs at least two entrances to the surface and proper ventilation.’

In an apocalypse, an underground bunker was a double-edged sword.

With only one entrance, you could get trapped.

Without ventilation, you would die.

Humidity and mold were problems as well.

These conditions were essential.

“Can I find something like that?”

I immediately opened a real estate website.

I set the search area to the outskirts of Seoul or northern Gyeonggi Province, where military bases were concentrated.

For property type, I selected basement, warehouse, workshop, and studio.

And the most important thing among them was.

Click.

‘...Low rent.’

There was no need to specifically ‘buy’ the property.

Once the apocalypse happened, the contract would just become another scrap of paper anyway.

‘I need to save as much money as possible.’

Once I actually searched, there were more listings than I had expected.

Because most of them were places ordinary people avoided.

Damp, old, awkwardly located, and even in dead commercial districts.

To other people, they were garbage listings.

Of course, to me, they looked like priceless treasures.

‘It might be good to build a bunker completely to my own specifications...’

But before long, I shook my head.

That would cost a lot of money and attract public attention.

There was also a high chance that workers who knew the bunker’s location would come looking for it after the end.

And naturally, every last one of them would come with bad intentions.

‘It needs a basement and a rear entrance, and there should be essential facilities like a hardware store or pharmacy nearby. And there needs to be a military base within three kilometers.’

After spending several hours diligently searching the internet while comparing locations against a map.

‘...Found it.’

I finally found a property that suited me perfectly.

__________

That afternoon, I immediately called the real estate agency.

I kept my voice as ordinary as possible.

“Hello. I’m calling about one of your property listings.”

Soon, a high-pitched voice came through the phone.

- Yes, yes. Hello! Which property are you calling about!?

“One moment. The listing number is No.1097. I saw it on your website.”

- Let’s see... No.1097... Ah, this basement workshop.

“Yes. Is it still available?”

- Of course! We’re very strict about managing things like fake listings. But it is quite old. Would that be all right with you?

“Yes. I’m going to use it as a workshop, so that’s fine.”

- I see. May I ask what kind of work you do?

For a moment, I was at a loss for words.

“Well... I’m a carpenter.”

I ended up blurting out the first thing that came to mind.

- Ah, then it’ll be perfect for you!

Unexpectedly, the voice on the other end sounded delighted.

- The person who used this place before also did woodworking.

“Then could I see it today?”

- Today? Yes, yes. If you just want to take a look, that’s possible. I have the key with me too.

“Then I’ll head over right now.”

- Sure! Then I’ll be waiting for you!

I hung up and immediately grabbed my bag.

Because in an apocalypse, time was money.

______________

The property was even older than I had expected.

“This is it.”

The real estate agent, who looked to be in her early forties, opened a rusty iron door.

Creak.

A damp smell wafted out from inside.

The characteristic moisture of a basement, dust, sawdust, and so on.

Step, step, step.

I slowly walked inside.

‘Oh...’

The interior was more spacious than I had expected.

‘They said it was about 92 square meters.’

It felt even larger in person.

Sweep.

I quietly looked around.

Old shelves remained along the walls, and there was a workbench on one side.

The electrical wiring was old, but it still worked.

There was even running water.

There was also a bathroom on one side. It was small and dirty, but it looked repairable.

“The previous tenant suddenly moved to the provinces, so the interior does need some cleaning up.”

Had she sensed uncertainty from my expression?

The real estate agent quickly added an explanation.

“I see.”

I gave a vague nod and walked farther inside.

A rear emergency exit and a small iron door.

I spotted a narrow staircase leading outside.

Creak.

When I opened the iron door, it led to an alley behind the commercial building.

It was a place that wouldn’t easily catch people’s attention.

‘Nice.’

That was my genuine assessment.

Because it really did look good.

‘This should be enough.’

Of course, it wasn’t a perfect bunker.

But it was more than enough as a starting point.

‘I can remodel it.’

Reinforce the entrances, improve the ventilation, repair the emergency exit, and store drinking water and food.

Beyond that, there was still a mountain of work to do, such as securing power, soundproofing, and disguising the exterior.

But.

‘I can do it. If I have six months.’

Still, I didn’t let my satisfaction show.

Because.

“So... what do you think?”

The agent asked.

At the same time, I paused for a moment before speaking with as gloomy an expression as possible.

“It’s much older than I expected.”

“Ah, but there really aren’t many places as good as this for use as a workshop. Above all, the monthly rent is cheap.”

“...Speaking of money.”

I straightened my posture and replied.

“I’ll repair the interior myself before using it, so could you possibly lower the price?”

“Pardon? By how much...?”

Got her.

Watching the real estate agent immediately start fiddling with her phone, I became certain.

She was almost convinced.

“You can leave the monthly rent as it is, but I’d like you to lower the deposit a little.”