The Middle-Aged Shut-In and the Apocalypse - Chapter 2
How a Middle-Aged Guy Who Wanted to Be a Shut-In Became a Hermit
Having dropped out of modern society, I sought a paradise far from civilization. Specifically, a place where there were no humans around. Call me a sociopath if you like. I didn't care. I was simply fed up to my core with socializing and "human relationships."
I had savings I’d never had a reason to spend, plus my severance pay. For a single guy like me—no wife, no kids, no family left—it was enough to live on comfortably until I died. If I’d had dependents, I might have reconsidered, but I never had the time or the opportunity for that.
I decided to perform a total "reset" on my life, cutting off all previous ties and becoming a hermit. Change my phone number, move away, and that’s it. In a way, it’s a terrifyingly shallow world we live in.
I knew I was bitter. I was at the peak of misanthropy. I searched for a property that met my requirements online and negotiated with a real estate agent. I paid in cash on the spot. Momentum is key in these things; if you give yourself enough room to look back, regret will inevitably creep in. I knew that if I stopped for even a second, I’d fall into a state of total collapse from burnout syndrome.
“Wonderful.”
Stepping out of my used light van, I was moved by the sight of my new home, which had completely blended into the greenery. The sample photos hadn't been reliable at all. The building was so covered in kudzu vines and leaves that it was practically buried. There was a gate, but it, too, had sunk into the emerald depths. The surrounding trees were encroaching so much that I couldn't even tell where the property lines were.
It made sense why the agent—who had agreed to my lowball offer—had been so eager to close the deal quickly.
On the way here, I’d passed a small settlement that looked like a village. I saw terraced rice fields, so there must be active farmers there. There was even a bus stop by the road. Out of curiosity, I’d stopped to check the timetable: the bus only came three times a day—morning, noon, and night. Naturally, that village was the end of the line.
The road continued past my new villa and deeper into the mountains. Checking Google Maps, it seemed to lead through the ruins of a closed ski resort and over to the other side of the mountain. It was a one-way path, so narrow that two cars couldn't pass each other—honestly, it was a bit scary. Whether due to a lack of maintenance or a lack of traffic, the road was buried in fallen leaves and was becoming one with nature.
Good. It was ideal. Perfect for a hermit’s den.
It took about twenty minutes by car just to get to that depopulated village. To get down to the city at the foot of the mountain required another thirty-minute drive from there. The village had no convenience stores or supermarkets. They’d likely be exclusive and wary of outsiders. Many of the scattered houses looked like they were already abandoned.
In other words, there would be no "neighborhood associations" or "community events" to avoid. Local fire brigades? Town hall meetings? Not my problem.
“Alright. Now, where’s the front door?”
I pushed through the vines and entered my new home.
The kudzu that had invaded the villa hadn't reached the interior—at least not on the first floor.
The concrete foundation housed a garage, a warehouse, and was even equipped with a generator. It was a bit dusty, but nothing a good cleaning couldn't fix. The second floor was the living space. There was a log-house-style living room and a mezzanine loft that served as the bedroom. At least, that’s what the floor plan said.
There was a full set of used furniture. The reason it didn't smell like someone had lived there was probably because the previous owner had only used it a handful of times. For a place that had been abandoned for nearly ten years, it hadn't rotted away. The real estate agent must have come to air it out occasionally... at least before the vines buried it.
I’d thought I might have to hire a renovation company as a worst-case scenario, but the building itself showed no damage. The exterior would need a lot of work, but I had nothing but time. It was the perfect way for a hermit to kill time.
With that resolve, I began my DIY renovations. Six months have passed since then. I’ve finally managed to achieve a lifestyle befitting a civilized human being. The fact that I didn't give up halfway through was perhaps a benefit of being forged in the fires of a "black company." I like to think of it as good rehabilitation. I managed to avoid the "burnout-to-depression" pipeline.
The hardest part was the plumbing. The water for this villa—no, my estate—relied on a storage tank. Originally, water must have been hauled in by a tanker truck or something, but requesting that every time was a hassle, and hauling it myself was even worse.
However, I discovered a spot in a nearby mountain valley where a spring gushed out. The headwaters of a stream, as it were. I drank it straight and didn't get an upset stomach. In fact, it tasted better than the bottled mineral water I’d hoarded.
The distance to the house was about fifty meters in a straight line. I drove down to the city to buy materials and laid out poly pipes, burying them as I went. I had a feeling there might be issues with "water rights" or something similar, so the burial served as a cover-up. I also didn't want the pipes freezing in winter or being chewed through by wild animals.
Yes, wild animals are formidable enemies. I run into boars and deer constantly. I’ve even spotted a bear. The boars in particular seem to spawn out of nowhere. And they’re aggressive—they’ll charge at you with everything they’ve got.
I built a sturdy fence of wooden stakes around the house. Since grocery shopping is a pain, I’d started a vegetable garden for self-sufficiency, but the first round was completely dug up by those damn boars.
I got so pissed off that I decided to get a hunting license. That said, I was committed to the path of the hermit. I ignored the Class 1 and Class 2 firearm licenses from the start. I didn't think I could get a permit to possess a gun anyway, nor did I want the responsibility. The paperwork looked like a nightmare, too.
What I got was a "Trapping License." Exactly as it sounds, it’s a license required to hunt birds and beasts using traps. Using foot-snare traps—wire traps—I successfully repelled the boars. I hesitated the first time I had to deliver the finishing blow, but you get used to anything. Now, I skin them, butcher them, and turn them into food.
With the internet, you can learn to do almost anything. Since I catch boars and deer regularly, I don't need to buy meat. It just goes to show how many pests there are out here. Experimenting with smoking meat and making bacon has become a fun hobby. My garden is also starting to yield a decent harvest. Since I no longer need to go out for fresh food, my hermit life is proceeding smoothly. It’s a bit more "wild" than what most people call a "slow life," but my new existence has finally settled into a rhythm.
“Hm?”
I had opened a bottle of whiskey for the first time in a while and was having a drink while browsing the net.
The internet environment was the very first thing I’d set up. This is a house with no cell signal and no phone line. Originally, power lines ran to the old ski resort, and the line to this house was a branch off that. There’s likely a phone line running along it, too. I’m sure I could have one installed if I asked, but I have a literal trauma-response to telephones. It was a psychological thing, but I absolutely refused to have a phone line. I have a smartphone, but I keep it turned off even when I go down to the city.
This was exactly what I wanted, but I did want the internet. After some research, I found out that individuals could sign up for satellite internet. The speeds aren't great and it’s expensive, but it was within an acceptable range. And so, a parabolic antenna now sits on the roof of my estate.
“Monsters? Or... zombies?”
While lurking on a message board, I saw people getting worked up over a strange topic. Lately, I’d been so immersed in DIY and survival that I hadn't realized something significant was happening in the world.
The truth is, I don't have a TV or a radio. It’s an environment where I can proudly tell the state-run "mobsters" who come to collect fees that I truly don't own a TV. Though, I heard they’ve started coming for people with internet access now, too. I hope they get run over by a boar and fall into a ravine... but whatever.
Mostly, I used the net for gathering DIY/survival info or reading web novels. I decided to check some actual news sites.
“Sigh... Are they idiots?”
I decided to just go to bed for the night.
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