Residents (1)
“There really are people living in this house...”
The woman with snow-white hair and lake-blue eyes reeked to high heaven and was caked in blood, but the face beneath it all was stunningly beautiful—disorientingly so. She just gaped at me, lost in disbelief, as if her mind refused to accept this was real.
The girl sprawled across her knees was unmistakably her twin, judging by her looks. She was still breathing, shallowly, but the gashes covering her body, the blood-soaked military uniform, and those pale lips told me she wouldn’t make it through the night if left alone.
“Come inside for now.”
What the hell was I even saying? This woman could be a raider staging the whole desperate act to play on my sympathy, slipping in just to slit my throat the second she got the chance.
And yet, here I was, inviting her in.
It didn’t matter anymore. Deep down, I’d been denying it, but if things kept going like this, I’d never last a year. Loneliness and depression would break me, and I’d end up hanging from the rafters in some dark corner.
“Thank you... thank you so much...”
Tears streamed from those crystalline blue eyes as she kowtowed repeatedly on the ground, then carefully scooped up her dying twin and rose. The military uniform was secondary; hauling an injured person through this demonic wasteland meant she was a 100% Awakener. And those unnaturally white hair and blue eyes—far too exotic for a Korean—were proof her twin was one too.
Awakeners sometimes awakened powers alongside changes to their hair or eye color. Take Jeong Su-hwan: blond as hell, and he’d told me himself it happened when he awakened.
Thud.
“Ah...”
She marched forward with grim resolve, only to smack her head on the barrier again.
“Oh, sorry. Just hold on a sec.”
Treating those wounds in the yard would be insane. I had to bring them inside, but I’d never issued a card before—had no clue how. After a brief hesitation, I glanced at the twins and murmured,
“Residence permit issuance.”
Plop.
Two silver cards materialized in midair and dropped at her feet. For real.
“Grab those cards and try coming in again.”
“Yes! Thank you!”
Something was printed on the cards that hit the dirt, but she snatched them up before I could read. She glanced at one, eyes widening in surprise, pocketed it, slipped the other into her unconscious twin’s pocket, and stepped forward once more.
“Oh.”
For the first time since awakening my ability, someone crossed the barrier. I couldn’t help letting out a small exclamation.
I opened my mouth to direct her—treatment was priority—but an indescribable stench slammed into me like a fist. Against my will, a curse flew out.
“Ah, fuck!”
“Y-yes?!”
She stared at me, face pale with terror. I just clamped my hand over my mouth and nose, fighting to stay sane.
Today, I learned the barrier filtered smells to some degree. Outside, chatting across it, the stink was bearable. But inside? It hit like a freight train. I barely held back the urge to puke.
Weeks? Months? No idea how long since they’d last washed. The smell was so bad, I hesitated even with a dying girl right there.
Breathing shallowly, it hit me: maybe this was normal. I lived in absurd luxury hygiene-wise, but out there, this might be standard. Jeong Su-hwan’s crossroads group and crew stank too, outside the barrier, but nothing like this.
Pinching my nose, I bolted to the door, flung it open, and gasped,
“Come this way!”
I dashed inside, grabbed all four air purifiers from around the house, and hauled them to the unused end room on the first floor. Staring blankly at the pristine interior from the shoe rack, she jolted at my shout.
“This room...”
“Yes!”
The lights were on, revealing a bright, spotless house. She trembled—eyes wide, lips quivering—as she carried her twin at a run to the end room.
She laid her sister on the bed and bowed deeply to me in thanks.
Those sheets were toast. Hell, maybe the whole bed.
“Th-thank you...! Thank you!”
“I’ll grab some meds. Stay here.”
I fetched the med kit from the basement and handed it over.
“Got some basic meds and simple suturing tools, but I don’t know shit about this stuff—what’s what.”
She rummaged through, snatched an unopened vial full of liquid covered in English labels, and burst into trembling tears.
“That’s... Cephalo-something? Got it last month—super rare antibiotic, they said. Syringes are here too; use ’em if you need.”
“Sh-she’ll live.”
Her hand shook violently around the vial as she whispered it.
That med came from last month’s crossroads trade. They’d piled on requests—tons of laundry, device charging, filling 60 water cans from the tap—and I’d been pissed. When they saw my face, they pulled it out like it was a huge sacrifice. Couldn’t recall the name, but they bragged one vial traded for 100 cans of prime canned meat. Annoyed me; I’d wondered if they were scamming. Her reaction? Yeah, it was legit precious.
She looked up at me and started bawling like a kid. Her tear-choked words tumbled out in gratitude.
“Th-thank you... I’ll repay this grace with my life if I have to...”
“I’ll fetch some hot water first. Start treatment ASAP.”
Honestly, the stench was unbearable; I bailed. Plus, if I stuck around, she’d just keep thanking me nonstop instead of treating her sister.
I filled a basin with steaming water, tossed in eight towels, and left it outside the door. Antibiotics or not, cleanliness mattered. Wiping down might cut the smell too.
Cranked all four air purifiers in the treatment room and shut the door. Inside, I heard sobs and murmurs like “You’re gonna be okay now.” Sounded like it was going well.
“Haa...”
I slumped on the living room sofa, eyes closed, pondering.
Was this smart? What after treatment? Kick them out? Did I just drag myself into bullshit?
Thoughts swirled. But one thing was clear: the bone-deep loneliness that hit every night? Gone.
A total stranger, no name, just a few words exchanged—and that crushing weight on my chest lifted. Might regret it later, but even one day like this beat dying alone.
Gut feeling: she wouldn’t snap and turn hostile.
Creeeak.
“Um... I hate to ask, but...”
An hour later, the door opened. She emerged with a basin of filthy sludge and four pitch-black towels. Her eyes held awe and fear—miracle-worker reverence mixed with dread of eviction.
“Just wash the towels; I’ll refill the water.”
“Thank you.”
She bowed in profound relief. I chucked the towels straight in the trash. No saving those. Plenty of unopened new ones stacked in the room anyway.
Held my breath dumping the sludge, rinsed the basin, refilled with hot water, set it by the door.
“Water’s here.”
“Thank you so much.”
Three more hours passed. She came out again with blackened towels and dark water.
“Really... thank you.”
She dropped to her knees before me, head bowed, murmuring endless thanks.
“How’s your companion doing?”
“Yes, my sister’s stabilized. Thankfully there were painkillers; she ate some and she’s sleeping now...”
She glanced around the house again.
“I thought from outside, but this house...”
“Yeah, it’s from the ability I awakened.”
“Not a dream after all...”
She kept staring around, still in disbelief. My patience finally snapped.
Not the towels—they were trash-level filthy, sure. But she was still a walking biohazard, reeking. Eight towels on her sister meant she’d used every last one scrubbing her down meticulously.
I cleared my throat a couple times.
“I’ve got something to say...”
My words turned her face ashen. She slammed her forehead to the floor, pleading,
“Please! We’ll leave at dawn...! Just one night for my sister here? I’m begging!”
“No, not kicking you out now—whew...”
First conversation in a year and a half, first request: Please shower; the smell’s killing me. Tough to spit out, but I manned up.
“I’ll watch your sister. Why don’t you shower in the meantime? No—please do. I’m begging you.”
Couldn’t meet her eyes; looked away.
“Ah.”
She finally got why I’d cursed the second she crossed the barrier. She scrambled up in a panic.
“I-I’ll sleep outside!”
“No, just shower in the bathroom there.”
“I’ve already used so much clean water; I can’t impose more...”
“Haa...”
Debating explaining my ability, I sighed deeply. She shot to her feet.
“S-sorry! I’ll wash right now!”
She bolted for the bathroom. Her frantic footsteps screamed terror—like ignoring me meant instant eviction.
“Only stuff I wear is training shorts and tees; left some by the door. Towels in the drawer. New toothbrushes too, and shampoo, body wash—use freely.”
Dropped shorts and a t-shirt by the bathroom door, then headed to the end room.
“Ah.”
Stench lingered, but way weaker than before. The sleeping twin looked worlds better: lips regaining color, ragged bloody cough-breaths smoothed out. Hair still matted, but her skin gleamed clean—no blood or grime. Every towel had gone to thorough sister-care.
Leaning against the wall, zoning out—
A scream erupted from the bathroom.
“Kyaa!”