Residents (3)
“I haven't stepped outside once since the gate crisis began. So I'm curious—how does the plundering actually work?”
“They take every last scrap of supplies. The men get dragged off for labor, or if they show any defiance, they're executed on the spot. The women... if they're lucky, they're used for labor too. But most end up as sex toys...”
“That's horrific.”
“Even the ones used for labor don't get proper food, so they starve to death. Or they get injured on the job, can't rest, get no medicine, and the wounds fester until they die. Lots of people like that.”
Hearing this straight from someone who'd survived over a year out there made me realize once again just how blessed I was with my Landlord ability.
It made sense, in a way. The central government's administration had completely collapsed. In this living hell, the population was dwindling, and the world needed labor more than ever. But with food scarce enough that they couldn't even feed their own workers, humanity was repeating its darkest history—creating slaves again.
“Was there infighting inside?”
“Yes...”
Han Seol's face darkened, just like when I'd first met her.
“You don't have to talk about it if it's too hard.”
“No, it's okay. Even inside, a lot of soldiers were starting to question the Reconstruction Government's direction lately. My sister and I were among them. You know how it is? You think the group you're in stands for justice... but it doesn't. So a few of us who saw eye-to-eye decided to defect and join another survivor group.”
“Someone leaked the info.”
“Yeah... I barely remember it, honestly. Woke up in the middle of the night to screams. My old comrades—people I'd called brothers-in-arms—had swords out, coming for my throat. We subdued them by luck, found Byeol, and ran... but she was badly hurt. We fled for over a week, ready to give up everything, when we found this house...”
I couldn't even imagine the hell they'd endured.
I had a long talk with Han Seol. The Crossroads guys wouldn't give straight intel, and Jeong Su-hwan, as leader of a small group, only had vague stuff like “Heard some group got hit last week.”
According to Han Seol, the Reconstruction Government had nearly 40,000 total personnel. Even excluding secret bases, over 30,000 were stationed at their main stronghold. They controlled a massive territory. Most non-awakeners were put to farming or hauling firewood from abandoned buildings and hillsides.
40,000 people? That was a small city. Human rights had regressed to the Middle Ages, sure, but some kind of national system was clearly functioning.
The non-laborers were specialists with unique skills. Doctors got good treatment, but only surgeons with experience or those skilled in emergency care. Problem was, surgical tools and medicine were woefully short compared to the number of injured, so they kept numbers limited.
The biggest surprise? People with real farming expertise got treated better than doctors. Especially in Seoul, finding true agricultural experts was tough. I'd never farmed myself, but it was obvious you couldn't just learn that from books.
Water purification experts and engineers who could design useful tools on minimal electricity also got top-tier treatment.
Most awakeners just got enhanced physical abilities, but a tiny fraction—like me—got unique powers. They called us Special Awakeners. The Reconstruction Government had two. One's ability was shrouded in secrecy; the other's accelerated plant growth, principle unknown. That one was basically their number two, treated like a VIP.
“But Do-hyun's ability is on another level compared to that. Seriously.”
I pressed for details. The growth acceleration had a fixed range—decently wide, but heavy use caused extreme fatigue. So their food situation was better than other groups', but not abundant.
Still impressive.
I was deep into the conversation with Han Seol when I noticed her eyes glazing over, head nodding off.
She'd carried her sister all night without sleep for days. A quick nap wouldn't cut it.
“Han Seol, go inside and rest.”
“No, I'm fine. Not sleepy at all.”
She shook her head desperately, but her eyes were half-lidded.
“You need to look after Han Byeol too. Go on. I'm heading to bed.”
“Okay... but let me at least do the dishes. Please...”
“Sure.”
Four days after the sisters moved in, Han Byeol finally stepped out of the room.
I'd wondered how she'd even used the bathroom. Turns out, she'd sleep all day on painkillers, wake briefly at dawn, and Han Seol would take her to the bathroom for washing, brushing, and everything else.
Han Byeol came out for breakfast and greeted me properly for the first time. She dropped to her knees like her sister, tears streaming down her face.
Twins through and through, even in gratitude.
She was still wobbly, not fully recovered, but worlds better than when I'd first seen her. For a normal person, those injuries would've been fatal without days of treatment—and she'd gone without food or care while carried here. Yet in just four days, she was up and moving. Incredible.
First time seeing an awakener's recovery up close. Absurd healing power. The deep gash on her calf? Already scabbed over, scar fading.
Are we even the same species?
Han Byeol still needed total rest, so aside from breakfast together, she slept all day. Han Seol, feeling guilty for “wasting rice,” tried to handle everything herself.
Honest feelings on Han Seol? Fucking convenient.
She took over meals, dishes, cleaning, even my trading errands. I did jack shit. If anything, evenings chatting with her about the outside world.
Never knew I could talk this much. Chatting with people was... fun.
Then, that peaceful evening shattered.
Kang!
A familiar boom from outside—like steel beams clanging. Someone slamming the barrier hard.
“Han Seol, you okay?”
I opened her door. She was peeking through a curtain sliver. Han Byeol huddled under blankets, trembling. Han Seol yanked the curtain shut, head bowed, whispering in terror.
“I think... our eyes met...”
“Know them?”
“Reconstruction... Reconstruction Government...”
She shook violently, like she'd lost her mind.
“Stay with Han Byeol. I'll check it out.”
“No!”
She grabbed my arm, pleading.
“Those people feel no guilt over killing anymore. It's dangerous!”
“I'm fine. That level of attack couldn't scratch it in a hundred years.”
I gently pried her hand off, smiled.
“Dealt with trash like them countless times. Ignoring them solves nothing. I'll talk and come back. Stay here, don't come out.”
“D-Do-hyun!”
I shut the door, slipped on slippers, grabbed a folding chair, and headed out.
These types? I'd handled them plenty. My world might differ from outside, but I knew exactly how to deal with scum like this.
Nine uniformed soldiers beyond the barrier. I set the chair down on my side, crossed my legs, and sat.
The beret-wearing leader—Gwak Dae-hoon—stepped forward. Easily two meters tall, face scarred with a massive cross. Ugly bastard. My attitude pissed him off; he scowled.
“Owner of this place? Heard rumors from survivor groups nearby, but seeing it... impressive.”
“...”
I just stared, eyes dripping contempt. No reply.
Veins bulged on his neck, but he cleared his throat, feigning calm.
“I'm Major Gwak Dae-hoon of the Republic of Korea Reconstruction Government. State your affiliation and name.”
“Hey.”
His face twisted at my single word. His lackeys froze.
Obvious what these scumbags thought. Everyone they'd met groveled in fear to avoid death.
Not me. Inside this barrier? Invincible.
And the house held enough canned goods, pasta, MREs for three people for a year. I'd hoarded obsessively through 18 months of boredom. Originally enough for me alone over three years. Long siege? I win. No reason to bend.
I stood, eyed Gwak Dae-hoon.
“Barging in to smash first, but now that I'm out, wanna talk it over?”
“Just testing the strength. And don't use informal speech. I'm from the Reconstruction Government—”
“If you're a major, I'm the president, asshole. Rebel scum playing soldier with fake ranks.”
I clapped and laughed like a maniac right in his face.
Gwak Dae-hoon's lips quivered. Couldn't hold back—punched the barrier.
Kang!
“Moron.”
Barrier unscratched. His fist bled.
Half-mad, bloodshot eyes glaring.
“This... glass wall. Give us time, we'll break it.”
“Try me.”
“Last chance. Intel says Lieutenants Han Seol and Han Byeol were last sighted nearby. They in there?”
“Nope. Fuck off.”
“I locked eyes with Han Seol through the curtain, and you lie.”
I sighed, sat back down.
“Funny bastard. Knew and still asked? Sigh... I got a question too. Answer, and maybe I'll think.”
“What?”
“You an orphan or something?”
“What? You just—”
“Nah, your manners suck like you were raised wrong. Play army all you want, just don't be loud at my door. Fucking orphan vibes...”
I folded the chair, saluted mockingly.
“Then, Captain Gwak, I'm off! Loyalty! That right? I'm a draft dodger.”
“Halt.”
I ignored him, turned home.
Kang! Kang! Kang!
“Argh! Stand still!”
“Major, calm down!”
No need to look—situation clear. I'd provoked more than necessary, but dragging it out hurt them more.