Hiding a House in the Apocalypse - Chapter 217



Only Krnovel

94. Influencer (3)

AI image generation tools, when handled well, have the ability to create stunningly beautiful women who are almost indistinguishable from real people.

But this is more a result of desire than my talent.

AI image generation tools are good at creating handsome men and beautiful women, but they are not good at creating average or ugly people.

The power of AI tools comes from learning from the vast amount of information called big data, but people generally want to create good-looking or pretty people, and do not necessarily want to create ordinary or ugly people.

So, even if you just create a man or a woman, the AI ​​tool outputs objective images of handsome men and beautiful women by default based on social standards.

The problem is that these default beauties and men have a peculiar AI smell.

AI is not omnipotent, so there are areas that it has not been able to properly overcome.

Like sometimes counting your fingers as six, or eating noodles with your hands instead of chopsticks.

My plan is to use this AI image generation tool to create a female character who will have a romantic relationship with Park Gyu as an ideal woman.

To this end, I am revealing AI images that I have personally created to the audience one by one to gauge their tastes.

SKELTON: (Skeleton Survey) I drew pretty people with AI.

SKELTON: (Skeleton Voting) AI Female 12-piece set

SKELTON: (Skeleton AI) What do you think of the beauties I drew?

SKELTON: (Skeleton Art) Pinka

SKELTON: (Skeleton Choice) Who is the best here?

…

…

I remember there were a few friendly comments at first.

But as data collection progressed, sarcastic comments began to appear.

ㅇㅇ: Is this your fucking summer vacation picture diary?

ㅇㅇ: This old guy is so excited because he found a toy.

dongtanmom: Yum yum… This is why I said not to upload things like AI tools… But when they fall into the hands of low-income, low-education, low-income autistic kids, they get really excited and start messing around with them. Yum yum….

Anonymous458: Hey, stop posting skeletons! That’s not graffiti!

unicorn18 : Wow

mmmmmmmmm: I guess I should send a message to Fox Games and tell them to block AI toys….

…

…

“······.”

If you’re going to bark, then bark.

I am not swayed.

The essence is a pretty woman.

First of all, you just need to pick a female character that looks good.

Although I did some painting that doesn’t match the name, I’m satisfied with just getting the data.

The idea is to find out what faces bulletin board users like the most and use those tags to complete your romance story.

Now I just need to use this as a base to spice up my perfect adventure story.

I also want to try something bold.

It is a “bed scene.”

It was at that time that I was devoting my soul to sculpting my ideal woman, like Pygmalion in Greek mythology.

My strong competitor, Dolsingman, posted the following story.

It’s probably not smart to look at your competitors’ posts while you’re working, but for some reason my curiosity made me pause from slicing the AI ​​image for a moment and click on Dolsingman’s new post.

*

In the last episode, Dolsingman ended his story by recalling his childhood.

Again he recalls the past.

“It was a strange relationship. We would fight and argue whenever we saw each other, but when she wasn’t around, I would feel the empty space, and when I got home from school on Saturdays, I would feel sad, and I would think about her all Sunday, but when Monday came around, we would go back to how we were and continue the same annoying fights······. Now, I’m old enough to know what those feelings are.

“I liked him. My partner’s feelings weren’t much different. He was always ticklish, but he never asked to switch seats or showed any real dislike. That’s what he showed me when another boy teased him. He’s a kid who can make that kind of expression.”

The passing years have separated everything and made it blurry.

The red-eyed boy turned into a middle-aged man who had experienced divorce.

He explained to us why he told the story of his past.

“The common ground is bigger than I thought.”

The story returns again to the unique bunker.

A single man discovers a woman of similar age living in the same bunker and becomes very interested in her.

He told the story to the caretaker, the only outsider he met.

“It seems like there are women around my age living here.”

Although it is forbidden to talk about other residents, it has been more than two years since the bunker was put into operation.

In a typical bunker, that would be enough time for the manager to betray the residents several times.

The story is that even initially firm thoughts can change.

The manager that the single man spoke to was a woman who always wore a gas mask, but she seemed strong enough, like a rock, and her whole body felt solid.

In fact, she and her brother very quickly killed and buried the person who discovered the bunker – it is not explained in the story whether it was a scavenger or a looter – in a pit, and also slaughtered the mutations hanging around the bunker.

When the Dolseongman spoke to her, he could smell human feces on her.

The single man vaguely guessed the reason.

“The old woman the caretaker was caring for showed signs of dementia from the beginning. Two years after the end of the war, her symptoms may have worsened.”

The single man asked the manager his questions.

The face wearing a gas mask looked straight at the single man.

She asked.

“Isn’t the prohibition of expressing interest in other residents something you agreed to and wanted when you moved in?”

The single man answered the sharp question with an awkward smile.

“Oh, that’s because I live alone and I get bored a lot, and that person seems to be around the same age as me. Oh, did the couple move in together?”

The single man gave the manager a bribe he had prepared in advance.

It was a 1kg gold bar.

There is a story that after a war, things like precious metals become trash, but humans have been instinctively drawn to gold and jewels since the savage era.

Moreover, these things are still traded for high value all over the world.

The manager looked at the gold bar in silence and accepted it.

“The lady lives alone. She is single. I can’t tell you anything else.”

The moment he heard that, Dolsingman said he felt the urge to jump sideways and clap his hands with both feet like the main character in the famous song from his favorite musical, “Singin’ in the Rain.”

From then on, all of Dolsingman’s attention was turned to the restaurant.

He always stayed at the restaurant until the wee hours and showed up at the restaurant around the same time.

His intention is to make his presence known to an unknown woman.

Here is a lonely man of the same age.

But getting that message across wasn’t easy.

On our bulletin board, you can post a post just by writing it and pressing the complete button, but in reality, human communication is not that simple.

Unlike the Internet, the real world has numerous restrictions and limitations, and the bunker of a single man is subject to even more severe restrictions than other places.

It was about three months after he started trying to somehow make his presence known to the unknown woman.

The single man noticed that the woman had disappeared into the hallway in a hurry, leaving a book on the table.

The title of the book was Stendhal’s “The Red and the Black.”

The single man broke the bunker’s rules without realizing it and picked up a book.

Inside his private bunker, Dolsingman turned the pages of the book again and again.

Before the war, time was the most scarce thing, but in the Age of Destruction, time is something that must be killed.

Confronted with unfamiliar descriptions of the past, the times, unfamiliar names and concepts, Dolsingman barely managed to close the last page of the book.

“Honestly, it wasn’t fun. It was so hard that it felt like I was swallowing bitter medicine. But I held on and read it. When I meet her again, I’ll have to recite at least the contents of that book.”

In that bunker, the concept of going out was also thoroughly managed by a time table.

Watched by a man and a woman in a gas mask wielding a gun, the single man took a stroll through the permitted, unadorned garden, replenishing himself with fresh air and an unobstructed sense of openness.

Suddenly a flower caught my eye.

To him, who had no interests or hobbies other than making money, flowers were a consumable item that went into a cheap gift like a bouquet of flowers, with an expiration date.

The single man carefully picked the flower with both hands and returned to the bunker holding the flower in his hands.

The next morning, he took the book he had brought yesterday and placed it on the table.

Next to the book, I placed some flowers that I had picked yesterday and that were still fresh.

A day has passed.

The single man experienced a torrent of emotions that he had not felt in a long time since he got older.

Amidst excitement mixed with anxiety, nervousness, excitement and heartbeat, the single man went to the restaurant.

“I think that was the first time since I graduated from high school that I felt so innocent and smiled.”

The book is gone.

With flowers.

And another book was placed on top of the original one.

A strange fellowship began in the place where people who sought solitude prepared for the end of their lives.

There was no meeting, no conversation, no encounter.

There was just a book placed on a rough iron table, then the book disappeared, then the book appeared again with a flower, then they disappeared, and the cycle continued.

The single man who had lost the vigor of his 20s did not feel the same impatience as before.

Perhaps the bitter experience of failure once before has made him cautious.

As the seasons changed, a serious problem arose.

As the days grew colder, the flowers disappeared.

Her book, whose face I still don’t know, showed no sign of falling, but flowers are something whose life and death are determined by the whims of nature.

In the harbinger of the cold wave that would kill countless people, flowers withered and fell to the ground.

The single man requested an interview with the manager.

“I’m truly sorry, but I have a favor to ask.”

What he asked for was a meeting with another resident, a woman who exchanged books and flowers.

I thought it was time to meet and talk in person.

But the manager became serious.

Although she was wearing a gas mask and her expression was not visible, Dolsingman was certain that she was serious.

“The rules are set by the client. They cannot be broken in any way. What if someone you don’t want to meet asks to meet you through me? Won’t they protest to me by holding up the contract?”

The single man didn’t ask any more questions.

In terms of justification and logic, the manager is superior.

With regret, Dolsingman returned to his personal bunker.

Instead, he stood in front of the mirror and looked at his face.

I’ve gotten very old.

Even I can clearly see that he has aged.

My hair has noticeably thinned and my complexion has darkened.

There was a time when hearing young women say they were young and seeing those women being surprised when they heard their age was as familiar as a dream, but not anymore.

Time, and the loneliness and gloom of destruction, had turned back the clock that was his face to match his age.

But the single man laughed.

You don’t have to force yourself to look young anymore.

They are of similar age.

You probably studied the same subject in the same classroom or in another classroom, looking at the same blackboard.

Above all, we were in the same place and exchanged numerous books and flowers.

He stands in front of the bunker door of the woman with whom he had exchanged books and flowers.

The door is made of steel, like the door to his personal bunker.

The single man stood in front of the door, worried.

Are you going to knock on the door like this?

Or should he just turn around and go back to his bunker?

In the silence where a second felt like an eternity, Dolsingman listened.

I can hear laughter coming from beyond the door.

It was clearly a man’s laughter.

The faint hope that only a man’s laughter would be like that was soon shattered by the faint sound of a woman’s laughter.

At that moment, the single man said he didn’t feel anything special.

Like a little finger that has lost its senses for quite some time, his emotions have also become dull and unresponsive to external stimuli.

“······After that, books were occasionally placed on the table. But I don’t touch them anymore. It’s not because I’m disappointed, but for another reason. They’re not fun. It’s natural, since the era and people in which old novels were written are different, and the emotions are different. Before, I read them out of necessity. As I’ve said before, they’re honestly hard work. Hard work.”

With a clean renunciation, the single man’s life found its original intention.

His life returned to a quiet, slowly decaying existence, undisturbed by anyone.

The books that were occasionally placed on the restaurant table were no longer there as the terrible cold spell ended.

As spring came, the single man fell in love again.

It was quite by chance that I saw the manager’s bare face.

The face without the gas mask could not be described as beautiful, but it was young, healthy, and attractive.

Above all, she is a character who is not bound by the constraints of a VIP bunker.

The single man is now dashing towards her fiercely.

“Everyone, cheer me on. That’s why I spent my spare time making this!”

Finally, he posted a picture of his own smiling face.

His face, which was pale, had darkened skin, was losing hair in patches, and looked visibly sickly, was smiling brightly despite that.

The moment I saw that face, I sent a message to Defender.

Defender has a medical professional he knows.

Defender soon gave me the answer I asked for.

Message from Defender: Skeleton. You guessed it.

A message from Defender: We’ll have to check the numbers to find out more, but the doctor’s opinion is that based on your appearance at the moment, it’s very likely that you have arsenic poisoning.

It’s such an obvious scenario.

The caretakers who took care of the bunker as a duty of good caretaker gradually changed their minds as time went by and showed their teeth to the people who depended on them.

Choosing arsenic may have been the more moderate option, but I don’t want to see any more of my bulletin board friends die.

Even if it is a competitor competing with me for influencer status, my mind will not change.

So I sent a message to my competitor – who I didn’t see as being all that strong.

Message from Dolsingman: What? You’re going to help me?