The day finally comes to leave Seoul and establish my long-term shelter. Based on painful experience, I know the densely populated capital city will soon transform into a deadly chaos zone once the outbreak begins. I need to prepare my stronghold well away from the epicentre.
After weighing various options, I decide to focus my search near the Hanul Nuclear Power Plant in Uljin. It may seem counterintuitive to move near a nuclear site, but I witness in previous timelines that the facilities get abandoned quickly without proper shutdown procedures once society starts collapsing. Yet despite multiple disasters, I never observe radiation leaks or explosions around Hanul before.
However, the primal fear of contamination is enough to keep most people away. Even as refugees flee the cities en masse once news spreads, few will voluntarily relocate near the 'dangers' of nuclear power. And isolation is my goal.
In addition, the rural villages around Hanul are relatively small with low population density - factors that will limit zombie clusters or roving scavenger gangs once everything falls apart.
And so I embark northward, prepared to investigate the area firsthand and determine the optimal site to convert into my fortress redoubt. If anything seems amiss or the location later proves unsuitable, I have the advantage to simply start over the time loop until conditions are perfect.
The journey takes me along increasingly deserted highways and rural backroads. With no tourist attractions, few travel up this way anymore unless they live here or work at the plant. I eventually reach the coastline where Hanul sits conspicuously on the horizon, silent and still for now.
I spend the first few days scouting the labyrinth of empty side streets and alleyways between humble farming homes and shops, visualising the possibilities. In previous repeats, I had mistakenly assumed my apartment, with its multiple locks and limited access points, would suffice as a shelter. But I learn the hard way that centralised urban locations invite discovery and attack.
There is a night, etched forever in my memory, when the reality shatters my illusions. They come, silently, almost ghostly, exploiting the very urbanity I had taken comfort in. My multiple locks, my limited access points - none of it matters. They are just child's play for those who know how to look, how to find.
That night, the sanctity of my home is violated, the peace irrevocably broken. It is a brutal awakening, a revelation that in this interconnected maze of streets and lights, privacy is a myth, and safety is a fleeting dream. Ever since then, I've carried this knowledge with me, a heavy, unshakeable truth. Out here, among infinite hiding places, however, I can disappear.
Eventually, I discover a promising structure – a 5-story office building on the outskirts of a village, deserted over a decade ago. The brick-and-mortar edifice provides enduring fortification plus sweeping views of the sea and mountains beyond. Close enough to scavenge Hanul if ever needed, yet obscured from major roads or population hubs.
I meet with a local real estate agent, Mr Park, who informs me the inactive building has sat vacant since the Hanul plant construction was completed. My offer to buy it immediately for over-market value bewilders Mr Park.
"Are you certain you want to purchase this old property?" Mr Park asks, squinting at me through his glasses. The scepticism in his voice is evident. "It's quite large for just one person, especially way out here in this remote location."
Without hesitation, I reply, "I'm absolutely certain, Mr Park. I have some very specific renovation plans in mind to transform it into precisely what I need. And trust me, the extra space will prove to be more than useful sooner than you might think."
My confidence, backed by the readiness of my financial commitment, seems to placate Mr Park's doubts. We proceed with the formalities, and soon enough, the paperwork is signed, sealing the deal. The property deed transitions into my hands.
As we conclude our business, Mr Park can't help but give me an odd, lingering look. "Well, it's certainly your money to invest as you please," he says with a hint of bemusement. "But I must say, it's a curious project for a young businessman from Seoul."
With a knowing smile, I respond, "I promise, Mr Park, one day you'll see why this is the perfect property for my purposes."
He chuckles softly, shaking his head. "I suppose I'll have to wait and see. You young entrepreneurs always have something up your sleeve. Just make sure you're not biting off more than you can chew."
"Oh, I've done my calculations. I'm not just looking to make a profit here," I assure him. "There's a bigger picture to consider."
Mr Park gives a nod, seemingly satisfied with his commission and the assurance of my plans. "Well, I wish you the best of luck. Do keep me updated on this grand project of yours."
As he ambles off, I stand alone, gazing up at the vacant tower. The scale of my ambition is as towering as the structure itself. I'm eager to begin the process of reinforcing it, transforming this deserted hulk into a blast-proof sanctuary. In my mind's eye, I envision it as a modern ark, a haven for survivors in the face of the impending societal upheaval. The thought is both exhilarating and sobering. The world is on the brink, and I'm preparing for the worst, hoping to offer a sliver of hope in what seems like an inevitable descent into chaos.
Additionally, establishing a backup bolt-hole still seems vital, in case my main fortress somehow gets compromised later. I drive uphill, seeking elevated apartments with broad sightlines. Few would expect to uncover concealed occupants at such heights, I reason.
The entire top floor of one ageing 25-story habitation block sits vacant. Meeting the puzzled realtor here, I promptly pay triple the normal lease rate upfront in cash to secure the modest space. Soon I begin discreetly hauling basic survival provisions upstairs.
This cramped crow's nest will have to suffice as my emergency contingency shelter if situations ever require me to retreat from my larger fortified base below. Obscure and sparse enough to escape detection for extended periods. A final high-ground lifeline secured before the raging storms ahead crash down.
For now, though, I must return my full attention to constructing my primary redoubt down below into a formidable bastion impenetrable to all threats without and corruption within. A shining refuge preserving decency and human dignity amidst the degradation ahead.