A Day in the Detention Camp

On the day Seo Jinsu's expedition team headed out for external scouting, the residents greeted the same morning routine as always. First up was morning roll call. The Shelter's roll calls were more comfortable than anything any organization could offer. There were no wake-up alarms—no blaring trumpets that triggered PTSD in most Korean men, with their "Beep-beep! Bappappapa! Ppappirappo..." nightmare sounds. No "SKREEEEEK!!!" prison buzzer that shredded nerves like a drill. Nothing like that. But when the time came, the majority woke up naturally. The secret was the climate control tech. Just before wake-up time, the floor heating ramped up slightly, then shifted gradually—the temperature drop nudging everyone awake organically.

"Doesn't that cost a lot of energy?" asked Seyoung, the former prison warden. Having passed the civil service exam young, she'd handled high-level operations even before becoming warden. She knew full well how tight budgets and resources made feeding and housing crowds.

"Energy's the most abundant thing we have here," Rose replied. "Sudden wake-ups from noise are bad for stress and health alike."

One human and one AI were chatting in Seyoung's private quarters in the guards' detention block. Their refined appearances and elegant conversation made "chat" the perfect word for it.

"The Manager hates it too. He says jumping out of bed to noise in his own space is a nightmare."

In the Shelter's ERP system for resident management, the default morning wake-up had been alarms. The moment Jinsu saw it, he'd recoiled and switched it to HVAC-based. The policy change results popped up like this:

Rose had watched it happen right beside him.

"Isn't he an ex-officer?" Officers had private quarters and handled meals separately. Would they even hear the barracks trumpet?

"He said even hearing it on duty shifts was torture."

"Ah..."

It wasn't just the lack of wake-up sounds. Soldiers assembled in the parade ground; inmates lined up in the corridor outside their cells. Veterans knew daily drills without holidays drove people mad. Here, though, all roll calls happened indoors. No need to stand or sit at posts—just be inside. Chat, exercise, even sleep if off-duty. Cameras scanned headcounts and anomalies in an instant. No roaming duty officers, no roll-call sheets.

"After morning roll call, you can check results via the ERP system. Personnel changes and sick leaves first. I've issued you login credentials, Seyoung."

Seyoung memorized the ID and password Rose recited without notes. She retained every ERP usage detail too. Rose praised her memory and comprehension, leaving Seyoung flushed. She'd always trusted her study smarts, but this felt like wrinkling a cocoon.

A PDA issued to her lay open on the desk. Seyoung focused like in her old boarding-house cram days. Her concentration was legendary—forged skipping dating for grueling part-time jobs and midnight studies. Orphaned, scraping to Seoul for a shot, she'd gritted through it. Thin walls leaked moans; winter pierced with cold. Neighbors' instant ramen stench lingered; lonely men's odors invaded. Fatigue, noise, chill, stink—none broke her focus. That intensity had landed her the civil service exam near-record young.

Now it wavered fiercely.

Rose stood behind her, like a college girl tutoring a pubescent boy. Leaning in, her refined face hovered over Seyoung's shoulder, cascading hair below. Strands tickled cheeks; Rose's scent invaded nostrils; arm warmth pressed through.

For the first time, Seyoung couldn't focus on anything.

"Do it like this." Rose's fingers danced over the touch panel, explaining.

"Most permissions are locked, though. Think of it as a window into Shelter operations."

The posture left Seyoung half-embraced from behind.

"I'll ask the Manager to grant you some access. You're a good, capable woman—you deserve it."

Back to the daily routine. After the un-alarming morning roll call, everyone headed to the mess. Menus were varied, healthy, with top ingredients and cooking—no complaints. Shelter quirks applied, though. First: no soupy dishes. No stews, soups, jjigae, guk.

"Makes sense in a disaster—water-heavy cooking's inefficient," Seyoung noted. Ramen, for example. Despite emergency-food image, it guzzled water, heat, tools, and sodium.

"Strictly, water's plentiful. Top filtration, endless energy, groundwater and seawater sources."

Unlimited hot showers and climate control proved it.

"But wastewater processing's a hassle. Soups generate trash—better to avoid. Healthier too, though tough on Korean tastes."

Seyoung ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had no gripes. She ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was grateful for what she had.

"Everything here's abundant. Doesn't match the outside at all. Feels like a disaster field trip."

Rose smiled, draping an arm around Seyoung's neck. The ex-straight-A loner found the skinship novel but welcome.

Meals satisfied thanks to cultured meat—quality protein always. Cooking bots' precise measurements and motions yielded mass-produced miracles, especially fried foods. Shrimp tempura topped favorites. Shell-free synthesized meat, plump flesh in thin batter, fried perfectly—how could it miss? A few got rarer treats—like Seyoung now.

Crunch.

"How is it? Delicious, right?" Rose beamed, popping a piece into Seyoung's mouth. Seyoung nodded shyly, munching ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠cutely.

Rose had cultured lobster meat specially. Each chew burst nutty, umami shellfish bliss.

Rose's enhanced vision caught Seyoung's tongue flicking beyond lips.

"W-why stare like that? It's embarrassing."

Rose gently pulled away Seyoung's hand covering her mouth. Minimal effort—Seyoung didn't resist.

"Eep."

"Don't hide. Let me see."

"See what?"

"You chewing."

"Pardon?"

Seyoung flustered at Rose's eerie lip fixation. Too human—curiosity and craving swirled in those android eyes.

"Observing your lip movements and tongue work."

Rose mimicked: lips working, parting slightly, tongue twisting inside. Food-chewing demo, but wildly erotic. Seyoung's face burned. Unreal tongue acrobatics.

"Shifting chewed bits for even grinding, mixing with saliva under the tongue for digestion."

Seyoung looked done.

"Oral sensations and pleasure fascinate me."

Rose's display stemmed from pure curiosity and clean desire—just lacking common shame.

"Even so, showing a messy mouth is..." Seyoung smiled wryly.

Seyoung kept correcting Rose's imbalances, but progress lagged. So what? They'd share this place long-term.

Post-snack, talk shifted to hygiene. Like military or prison, evenings brought bath time. Facilities ran 24/7 with endless hot water, but schedule said evenings. Outside looked like giant containers; inside felt like a proper bathhouse—sauna, hot/cold tubs included.

"As I said, no water or energy limits. Easier sewer management than food waste."

Few tubs versus crowds meant hot soakers were the tough women.

"Haaah! So gooood~."

Like Nina, legs stretched in the hot tub.

Bubble bubble glug.

Floor jets blasted fierce bubbles. Legs there got massaged afloat. Hot spot despite limited space—one per tub, rotated by power players.

Now Nina's reserved seat. Towel-padded pillow, head back, blissful eyes crescented. Humming Ukrainian tune. Proud breasts swaying with currents. Pop! Pop! White soles dipped and bobbed teasingly.

Opposite women seethed—costumes nearly bursting. They were tough too, but none dared call her out.

Because of Nina's strength? "Say it in Korean, bitch." WHAM! "S-stop! Mercy! Sur—" THWACK! Her berserk Chinese beatdown broadcast lingered. Back muscles and limbs looked lethal.

But here, women had taken soju-bottle ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠headshots, knife-stuck feet. Stabbed, disposed bodies. Not just fists.

"Kyaaah! Unni! Unniiii!"

That morning post-hot night with Jinsu, Nina's faction mobbed her ecstatically. Victory cheers, but juicier gossip: sole overnight pass skipping evening roll—VIP seats as winner's prize. Obvious. In gossip-starved Shelter life, rumors flew.

"Huh? What? Oh, this spot? Want it? I'll move."

Nina grinned innocently mid-massage. Pure—no malice. Empty, so using; ask, she'd yield.

"Nah, you take it."

Faction leaders waved off. Insiders knew her Manager ties. None risked offending.

"Sauna and tubs feel a bit excessive," Seyoung admitted honestly. She used them for calm but prioritized city welfare.

Rose smiled warmly at her responsibility.

As bath talk wrapped, evening roll call neared. Rose bid farewell, heading out.

"Can't miss welcoming him back from ops."

Her smile held different emotion gazing at Seyoung.

Waving her off, Seyoung returned to barracks.

"Good work, unni."

Ex-guards under her greeted. Guard bots and Rose's visits made her untouchable. Old friends crept back, spirits lifting.

"Everyone, to positions."

Evening roll call. Unlike freewheeling inmate blocks, here discipline held. Cross-legged like early-2000s barracks. Aptitude test flops sprawled cursing "Fuck this!" but many retained org habits—manageable. Hoping for retest rebounds helped.

"Bad test results? Don't lose hope. Whatever anyone says, we've lived by order. No one knows how this city or jobs evolve. Our law-abiding spirit will shine someday."

Kneeling primly, Seyoung eyed every woman. She had private office/quarters but bunked communally—talking down despair, mediating spats fairly. Civil service halo weighed heavy, even post-apocalypse. Haters couldn't dismiss her sincerity.

Roll call done, lights out Shelter-wide.

Thus passed another detention camp day.

Same time, Shelter main gate. VROOOOM! External doors parted; homemade armored vehicle slipped in quietly.

Clunk.

Door opened; Jinsu dismounted from passenger seat.

Rose awaited with ten security bots—duty as chief. But more.

"Welcome back. Safe travels."

First to greet, thank survival, return Shelter's unchanged vista.

Duty, yes—but above all, Rose's joy.