015_The Calm Before the Storm
Two weeks had passed since Jeong Su-hwan's group joined us.
Winter still lingered, but the weather was gradually warming up.
Like politicians boosting their approval ratings by feeding people well, keeping them clean, and letting them sleep soundly, Jeong Su-hwan's group's loyalty was steadily rising day by day.
The female awakener with the lowest loyalty at first, Lee Hae-yeon, had started at 51%, but now it was up to 86%.
Over thirty residents had already hit 100%, and most were holding steady at 80-90%.
In about a month, everyone should reach 100%.
Im Jui's house had five rooms and two bathrooms on the first floor, along with a living room and kitchen; the second floor featured a hallway, six rooms, and two bathrooms.
With so many residents, we'd extensively renovated the interior to fit six people per room.
The five first-floor rooms and five second-floor rooms could accommodate a total of sixty people.
We squeezed ten more into the living room, allowing seventy to stay in Im Jui's house overall.
The remaining second-floor end room was designated as Im Jui's personal space.
Im Jui had insisted she could sleep in a tent and give her room to six other residents, but Han Seol, Han Byeol, and I shut that down.
It didn't make sense for the sector governor to lack a private room.
Im Jui's room doubled as her office and personal quarters.
The rest were housed in the hospital, while the seven awakeners had volunteered to pitch tents outside and stand watch.
According to the Han sisters, after just a week here, they were feeling the same unease Im Jui's group had upon arrival.
Emotions like, 'What can I even contribute here?'
And who could blame them? It was safe, the food was plentiful and good, hot water came twice a day for showers—but they weren't doing anything productive, just receiving handouts. Naturally, that bred anxiety.
The most productive thing awakeners could do here was venture out for scavenging.
But going outside was pure risk with little reward—just a few cans of food at best—so I'd banned those outings.
They showered and ate inside the buildings, spending the rest of their time in tents, patrolling the sector interior on 24-hour rotating guard duty.
The Han sisters and Im Jui said they were angling for official titles too.
The proposal was to create a "Protective Service" with Jeong Su-hwan as chief and the other six as agents. I said I'd think it over.
My sector already had Im Jui, the ultimate trump card as "His Excellency's Chief Guardian"—a title that outranked any "protective chief."
This morning, I collected the replenished 1,440 cans, adding them to the first batch for a total of 2,880.
Storage was tight, so they were stacked in the basement hallway.
Surprisingly, the busiest over these two weeks wasn't the Han sisters or Im Jui—it was Lee Kyung-min.
He'd conducted full health checkups on every new resident, hospitalizing those who needed treatment and handling it personally.
No one except one required major surgery, but several suffered from severe neurosis or infected wounds from botched first aid after cuts and scrapes.
Lee Kyung-min performed specialized surgical interventions on them.
He'd even cleared out his old stuff from Im Jui's house, moving it to the clinic and setting up a mattress there to live at the First Hospital.
He worked around the clock, so last week I checked on him, worried he was overdoing it. But his eyes burned with a fire I'd never seen before.
Truth be told, among Im Jui's group, Lee Kyung-min had been the most cynical.
He'd had this dead-eyed look that had abandoned all hope in life and humanity. But from the moment he arrived here, he'd perked up—then, when the hospital overflowed with patients, he transformed into a different person.
Dark circles ringed his eyes from all-nighters, but his smooth, brightly unfolded face shone like a man who'd found his life's purpose.
I urged him to get enough sleep—nothing funnier than a doctor collapsing.
The worst case in Jeong Su-hwan's group, a resident wracked by extreme neurosis and wound infections, emerged from a week in a private recovery room post-surgery looking reborn and healthy.
According to Lee Kyung-min, in a normal hospital, it'd have taken at least two months of intensive care with lingering aftereffects—even then. But a week in the top-tier private recovery room here cured him completely, no sequelae.
Curious, I asked if organ transplants were possible with organs on hand. He confirmed the OR monitor listed organ harvesting and transplants as options.
Big surgeries like that would be tough solo, though—depending on the organ, he'd need specialists in hepatobiliary, cardiothoracic, or anesthesiology.
For a fleeting moment, I pondered capturing enemy raiders alive, harvesting organs for the permanent preservation room, and using them as needed...
Han Seol was thrilled with the First Food Storage Warehouse, while Han Byeol lit up over the Command and Control Room.
Han Byeol even holed up there during free time, meticulously mapping and noting the surrounding terrain.
She'd pull up all the CCTV feeds on the eight monitors, staring blankly for hours.
Last night, I saw Han Seol sigh and shake her head at her sister glued to the command room—like parents watching a moody teen obsessed with their computer.
I'd distributed walkie-talkies to Han Seol, Han Byeol, Im Jui, and Lee Kyung-min.
They were to carry them at all times, report issues immediately, or broadcast on the all-channel if something came up.
For Im Jui, who needed thirty seconds to charge for a single word, it was listen-only.
The biggest prize was the pulse rifle.
Unable to test on humans, we gathered rocks of similar size, lined them up straight, and experimented.
We set twenty rocks at intervals on a table, starting with the anti-materiel rifle.
All residents were warned to stay away from the table.
"Master, firing!"
"Go ahead."
Han Byeol prone-fired the sniper rifle; I plugged my ears behind her.
A deafening roar kicked up dust.
Checking the table, five rocks were shattered, the sixth cracked.
True to its anti-armor purpose.
Next, the pulse rifle.
The Han sisters had discovered it had normal and sniper modes.
Normal mode first.
"Master, firing."
"Go ahead."
I skipped earplugs to hear the shot.
Pzzt.
A sound like the plasma cutter but distinct.
Quiet compared to the sniper rifle—inaudible beyond 100 meters.
But the ammo counter dropped to 99, smoke wisped from the barrel, and... the rocks stood unmoved.
We approached to inspect and froze in shock.
Holes pierced the rocks.
Not bullet holes—like pure energy slicing cleanly through in a straight line.
One pulse rifle shot penetrated ten rocks.
"Master..."
"Yeah."
"This gun... almost no recoil."
"..."
Nearly recoil-free, quieter than the sniper rifle, overwhelmingly user-friendly.
More powerful, and it supported bursts.
"Leave 'em like this and try sniper mode."
"Yes."
Back in position, switched to sniper mode. Han Byeol called out.
"Firing."
Kwaaang!
A thunderous boom as the muzzle flashed blue, a beam lancing straight out.
"Insane."
Ammo dropped to 49—sniper mode consumed 50 rounds per shot.
Despite the boom, holes matched normal mode size.
It pierced all twenty rocks, and Im Jui confirmed it punched through ruins beyond the barrier.
Penetration defies measurement.
Undeniably monstrous.
This weapon should only recognize biometrics from the Han sisters and me.
-Your Excellency, shall I take a hit? -
"Don't say things like that..."
I'd tried normal mode myself, and the results were dismal.
The power was the same, but as a civilian, I simply had no talent for shooting.
It took over ten shots to barely graze the edge of a rock.
I'd hoped for some kind of shooting correction feature, but that was too greedy.
This is a weapon that only a trained soldier can properly utilize.
I recalled the sniper-related special awakener we met at the black market with Im Jui.
If that sniper got his hands on this weapon, it'd be a disaster itself.
Biometrics are required, but just in case, we decided to use it only inside the barrier.
A month had passed since Jeong Su-hwan's group joined.
Reconstruction on the buildings was nearing completion.
I planned to move people from Im Jui's crowded house into the finished ones right away.
I'd thought cramming six per room was undignified—like a chicken coop—but I was dead wrong.
The Han sisters explained, and it clicked.
They'd huddled in empty shops, dozens crammed into tents around wood stoves, barely surviving day to day.
A clean, odor-free room with boiler heat was paradise to them.
Without my ability, they wouldn't have lasted a week outside.
Jeong Su-hwan's entire group had surpassed 90% loyalty.
Except for Jeong Su-hwan, who had full sector access, I reissued citizenship cards to the rest, unlocking the livestock zone.
But my residence in the Governor's Quarter remained off-limits to all but Jeong Su-hwan.
They could relay messages through him.
No major reason—just formally cementing him as the sole liaison to prevent internal conflicts.
And we gave them those coveted titles they'd craved.
Lee Hae-yeon hit 100% today—her 99% from yesterday—making all seven awakeners max loyalty.
To celebrate, we formed the Guard Unit.
Paradise Supreme Leader's Direct Guard Unit
Too grandiose; we shortened it to First Guard Unit.
"Jeong Su-hwan is appointed First Guard Unit Captain; the other six as guardsmen."
"Your Excellency! Thank you!"
"Your Excellency! We'll lay down our lives!"
"Your Excellency! No one will breach this place!"
They shouted with reddened eyes, finally relieved.
Guardsmen got ceremonial weekly extras: fruit, vegetables, milk.
Jeong Su-hwan also earned official Executive Meeting attendance.
They seemed happier about his promotion than the unit's creation.
He chuckled at "First Guard Unit," explaining he'd served in the real military unit by that name.
I hadn't even known it existed.
Spring was approaching.
Lately, the Reconstruction Government had been eerily quiet.
Like the hush before a typhoon—making it all the more unnerving.