Mu Wol Cult (1)
“Ah... what time is it?”
I dragged myself out of bed and checked the clock. It was 1:40 p.m. I'd binged dramas until dawn and only crashed past 5 a.m. Han Byeol had woken me for breakfast that morning, but I was too groggy to eat, so I slept straight through until now.
One perk of having so many residents these days was that we no longer had to gather everyone at the management office every morning for rations like back when numbers were low. No need for me to show up personally either.
I headed to the kitchen and found fried rice wrapped in plastic cling film. On top was a note from Han Byeol: “Heat in microwave for 1 minute and enjoy.”
Fried rice has that unique chewy texture and flavor when it's cold, so I skipped heating it and dug in as is.
“This is good.”
After finishing, I did some light stretches in the living room, showered, brewed a cup of coffee, and headed up to the rooftop.
In the empty lot, Im Jui, Han Seol, Han Byeol, and Jeong Su-hwan were practicing swordsmanship. They wielded wooden swords, flipping backward somersaults and swinging through the air like something out of a wuxia novel.
Im Jui was sparring against the three of them, effortlessly dodging or blocking like a hidden master. I'd heard she even slept with her gas mask on because she liked it so much.
“Hm?”
Han Seol caught my eye, lowered her sword with a greeting, and waved brightly with a sunny smile. Glancing beside her, Han Byeol was miming eating, probably asking if I'd had the breakfast she'd made. I nodded.
Reconstruction of the 2nd Northeast Sector was complete. I'd already decided what building to put there.
“Brewery.”
Out came a concrete structure like the farm, fishery, and livestock buildings. Production facilities all looked pretty similar on the outside.
Next up was the 2nd Southeast Sector. I'd wanted more housing, but with all the wartime spending lately, our stockpiles were getting thin. Time to prioritize food production buildings.
If possible, I hoped to expand food facilities enough someday that we could self-sustain three meals a day for everyone—no more relying solely on canned goods bought with water sales.
I'd reconstructed the livestock building and sent small gifts of the dairy products to the top brass of the Seonghun Merchant Association. They loved it, immediately thanking me and asking if we could trade. Production wasn't high enough for that yet, so I said I'd send occasional goodwill gifts.
“Shall we go in?”
“Yes!”
I entered the brewery with the executives and chefs.
“Whoa... this is different.”
From outside, it looked two stories tall, but inside it was a single vast floor with a soaring ceiling. Unlike other production buildings with no vending machines, the standout feature here was eight massive tanks lining both walls—four per side—reaching the ceiling with levers and spouts like the milk tanks on the livestock building's second floor.
The black tanks hid whatever booze was inside. Cups were conveniently placed nearby for sampling.
“Guess we'll have to taste them one by one.”
I held a cup under the first tank's spout and pulled the lever.
“Whoa... who knew we'd be drinking this straight from the tap one day.”
Golden liquid poured down the cup's side, bubbles rising to form a frothy white head.
“Mm! Crisp.”
First tank: beer. The light, carbonated lager kind everyone pictures first. Tasted just like draft from a pub. Ice-cold too. Perfect.
I had everyone try a sip. Second tank was ale—similar to my favorite imports. Like Belgian wheat beer, with sweet-bitter orange peel and coriander notes.
Third was stout. I'd rarely had dark beer, so I wasn't sure, but the chefs and execs raved about it.
Fourth tank: clear as water.
“Hm... barely any aroma?”
I took a casual sip and nearly spat it out. Soju. But not the diluted stuff—distilled, at least 30 proof. Smooth going down, with a sharp, spicy kick.
“No good. From the next one, Han Byeol, you taste.”
“Yes!”
The fifth tank on the right also poured clear. Han Byeol downed a full cup without hesitation.
“Ahh... vodka.”
“I said taste it, not chug like water...”
Sixth tank: shimmering amber liquid.
“Oh...”
I could guess without trying.
“Whiskey! Delicious!” Han Byeol declared confidently.
“...”
“Your Excellency, may I have a sip too?”
Joo Yong-cheol bowed, requesting a taste.
“Yeah, go ahead.”
He held the cup two-handed, swirled it, sipped, and swallowed.
“Blended whiskey. I'm no expert, but it has a refined flavor.”
“Good. Chef Joo, you handle the rest.”
“Thank you.”
Seventh: wine. Chef Joo praised it highly, but wine and I don't mix well. Better as a flavoring in food.
Eighth: murky liquid.
“This one?”
“That's it.”
“Yeah.”
Murky turned out to be makgeolli. Curious, we all tried a sip—everyone except underage Im Jui.
“Wow... this is seriously good. Night makgeolli type? Sweet and tangy.”
Temperatures were rising. I set safety rules: laborers in Nakyuan sectors must take at least 30 minutes to an hour indoors after two hours outside. Once hotter, maybe fill barrels with makgeolli for an after-work drink.
The brewery was excellent.
“Hm...”
Excellent, sure—but after all the wild production items so far, I wasn't shocked anymore. Maybe I'd gotten used to it. These were the alcohols I'd expected: beer, makgeolli, wine, etc.
We bottled or barreled the stable ones. Beer, makgeolli, and wine would be rationed to residents at dinner after today's work. They refilled fast—plenty for trade. No more booze shortages ahead.
“Your Excellency!”
Not report day, but Kim Dae-geon and Park Tae-woo showed up. They usually dealt with the Han sisters for routine updates, but said this needed me personally.
“What's up?”
Park Tae-woo's group included Kim Dae-geon and his men.
“Marshal, how have you been?”
“Fine. What's with the back?”
Behind Kim Dae-geon's men: five people with cloth bags over their heads, bound tight with rope. This smelled like major hassle.
Kim Dae-geon glanced at Park Tae-woo, who spoke up.
“C-can I explain, sir?”
“Go ahead.”
The five captives were believers of the Mu Wol Cult. I'd heard of them from the Han sisters during the Dome Head hunt—a loony group treating monsters as divine apostles, expanding in Gangnam.
They'd been secretly proselytizing in Park Tae-woo's cult and got caught.
“Pushing into Gangbuk? Anyway... why drag them here? Just kill 'em on site.”
“Well... we planned to, but they said something weird during interrogation.”
“Weird how?”
“They claimed the Mu Wol Cult leader would soon bring divine punishment upon you, the Union Marshal who slays apostles.”
“Hm... Awakeners?”
“No, all ordinary folk.”
Park Tae-woo figured it wasn't empty threats, so he'd brought them via Kim Dae-geon. I asked the carpenters to build a small wooden pen in a corner of the barrier, tossed the cultists in bound, and learned they'd been gagged. Stakes in the ground with ropes kept them from fleeing; we even splashed water from buckets so they wouldn't dehydrate. Left Han Eun-ji's team on watch, then held a meeting with execs.
Rewarded Park Tae-woo and Kim Dae-geon with food and booze before sending them off.
Late-night meeting concluded: interrogate for more intel on Mu Wol Cult. Rumors said they tamed monsters. If true, their leader was likely a Special Awakener controlling beasts. Why stay hidden since the crisis started, quietly building power?
“Makes sense... they'd be assassinated if they rampaged openly.”
Conversely, if they could tame Named monsters, they'd be flaunting it. Probably just weak ones at best.
At dawn while everyone slept, we execs went to the cultists with a blue drone.
Outside the roofless wooden jail, Han Eun-ji's team saluted.
“Good work. Go rest.”
“Yes, sir!”
Squeak. Im Jui, Han Seol, Han Byeol, and Jeong Su-hwan joined with lanterns. We removed the cultists' hoods: blindfolds and gags. Three men, two women.
“Rough day tied up, huh? Here's some water.”
I nodded; execs dumped buckets over their heads.
“Mmph... mmph!”
One writhed and grunted.
“Kids are sleeping—keep it quiet.”
My low warning silenced him.
“We'll ungag you one by one. Answer my questions only. Shout or go off-topic, and this becomes torture. Got it?”
Jeong Su-hwan ungagged the first man. I stood before him.
“From what you do, can't tame Named monsters, right? If you could, you'd have tamed Silver Foam before I killed it—or at least Gangnam's Named ones.”
“...”
He just trembled, head down, silent.
“Not answering?”
“The elders will come with apostles to punish you... It's not too late—beg forgiveness, repent... the Cult Leader will show mercy.”
His voice dripped fear. I hadn't expected much from fanatics anyway. But his words confirmed they were Mu Wol Cult—furious over my kills of Moon Dancer and Silver Foam, plotting against me and mine. Caught proselytizing or not, opposing me sealed their fate.
And knowing I'd slain those, yet talking big? They had something up their sleeve.
“Fine... you're a believer; instant betrayal looks bad, lacks faith. I'll give you justification. Just answer.”
I powered up the blue drone. Whirr—it rose, deploying its Plasma Cutter.
“Regag him.”
“Yes.”
Han Seol gagged him.
“Mmph...!”
“Don't worry,” I told him. “I'll make it so obvious anyone would say, 'They had to spill after that.'”