Reconstruction Government (1)
A week had passed since I took down Gwak Dae-hoon. Han Byeol had finally finished recovering and was back to full health.
"Master, I've hung all the laundry up on the rooftop!"
Ever since her recovery, Han Byeol had started calling me "Master."
"I told you not to call me that..."
"You are the master of this house, aren't you?"
"Just call me by my name."
"Well, I've told you to drop the formal speech with me, but you won't."
Han Byeol never backed down from an argument. The Han sisters were fundamentally diligent and polite. Whether it was because they were twins or because the world outside had made this kind of life their new normal, they were always busy from dawn till dusk. Even after finishing all their chores, they never slacked on scrubbing every corner of the house.
I could see it as natural—they owed their lives to me, and I was letting them stay in my home. If this weren't the apocalypse, they'd be beauties welcomed anywhere with open arms.
This morning, after breakfast, I watched them quietly as they cleaned up. I caught Han Seol humming a little tune, her face serene and peaceful, as she crushed an empty canned goods tin barehanded into a perfect ball. Awakeners were something else. Seeing that gorgeous face compressing a tin can like it was nothing was a little terrifying.
Every evening, we all gathered at the dinner table for an hour or two of conversation. Sometimes it got serious; other times, we just chatted about each other. Worried the mood might get too grim, I'd once brought out some booze. The sisters' eyes went wide at the whiskey I pulled out.
They never went into the basement or the second floor without my permission. The big chest down there was stocked full of liquor I'd collected—tons of soju, plus vodka and whiskey.
Right after the gates opened, I'd have a drink alone every night. But about half a year in, booze just brought suicidal thoughts, so I quit cold turkey.
The sisters were thrilled to see it but refused to drink. When I asked if they couldn't handle it, they said they liked it but couldn't. I'd half-expected that. Outside, liquor was basically currency.
Paper money was worthless trash—not even good for wiping or kindling. Other stuff had taken over: booze, smokes, disposable lighters, fuel, toilet paper. Things like smokes or TP were luxuries, so trades depended on the other guy. But booze? Universal tender everywhere.
In this hellhole, soju let you forget for a bit—no need to explain the demand. High-proof vodka over 40-50%? Simple distillation turned it into disinfectant. Priceless.
Any decent-sized group had a black market. Take six bottles of soju, and you could snag whatever you wanted. When I didn't get it, Han Seol blushed and explained.
"One bottle of soju... gets you a night with a pretty young girl."
"Prostitution in the black markets too?"
Han Byeol jumped in this time. "It's not just there—it's the biggest business in every black market."
"Huh."
From what they said, if you couldn't provide labor or had no special skills, prostitution was the fallback. With family to feed, options were slim. Get lucky, catch a warlord's or officer's eye, maybe pivot to concubine for a life upgrade.
I was an awakener, but my physical stats were baseline human, so I couldn't venture out despite my curiosity. I'd love to hit a black market or check out a proper city-state someday.
"Oh, right—something I thought of this morning. Won't Gwak Dae-hoon's escaped goons report our location and come back for revenge?"
"Possible, but those soldiers probably won't return to the Reconstruction Government."
"Why not?"
"The whole secret outpost plan to subjugate neighbors was top-secret. And with hardliners running things now, they'd just get called cowards, maybe publicly executed."
"Crazy bastards. How do they even hold together?"
"Lots of affiliated awakeners. Originally, reconstructionists held power and focused on internal affairs. But after last winter, hardliners took over."
Interesting stuff. Reconstructionists started strong, welcoming refugees, pushing farming and scavenging for communal survival. But that first winter shattered the dream.
Last winter was brutal. I never felt it—boiler cranked, cozy inside—but mornings on the rooftop with coffee, the wind cut through my parka like a knife.
Reconstructionists thought they could tough it out without theft. Nature had other plans. No solid admin, farming tech regressed centuries—couldn't feed everyone.
Awakener farmers ditched fields to feed families, risking gates for loot. Confident ones turned raiders. Hardliners pounced, organized raids, "generously" redistributed to civilians.
Civvies swung their way. Now the Reconstruction Government was a military dictatorship in democratic clothing.
"40,000 isn't a nation..."
Even rotten, the best fish—strongest single faction was still the Republic of Korea government. Per Han Byeol the intel officer, their capital had ~150k residents, total influence 800k-1M. "Influence" meant warlords swearing nominal loyalty for legitimacy, snagging titles like legion or division commanders to rule their turf.
Dozens of them. They paid token taxes for face, but independent as hell—no real loyalty. Romance of the Three Kingdoms, Korean edition.
Rumor: ROK gov building "1st Special Awakener Division" to wipe out rivals like Reconstruction Gov. They were taking it seriously—laws harsher, paranoia rising.
"Whoa."
Han Byeol flashed a thumbs-up at my impressed look. "Intel officer, remember?"
"Alright, bedtime."
"Goodnight, Master."
"Goodnight, Do-hyun."
As I rose, the sisters bowed politely. Heading to my room, I heard their footsteps toward the shower.
Every night, they spent over an hour bathing. Outside, showers were elite luxury—makes sense.
I used the master bath. Offered them separate rooms; they refused. Still sharing the end room where Han Byeol first convalesced. Sheets tossed, fresh ones on.
Post-shower, I was at my desk with a manga when a knock came.
"Do-hyun, may I come in?"
"Yeah, come on."
Han Seol and Han Byeol entered, fidgeting.
"Um..."
"Something on your minds?"
Han Seol dug in her pocket, handed me a silver card. Residency card. I'd given them but never checked.
Theirs listed names and birthdates. When Han Seol first got hers, she'd freaked—how'd I know her info without asking? They were 22, a year younger than me. Calamity hit right after they turned 20. Rough.
Why hand them back? Then I saw the bottom: expiration imminent.
"Residency's about to lapse."
"Yeah..."
Residency wasn't permanent. No term set defaults to one month, apparently.
"Extend residency one year."
Worth a shot. The silver card glowed; term extended.
"Thank you!" They bowed deep.
"Hold on."
"Yes?"
No plans to kick them out. Might as well go citizenship—unlock more house features.
I looked at them. "Issue citizenship."
New Citizens Registered: 2
The residency cards crumbled to dust; two black cards clattered to the floor.
"Thought it'd be gold cards."
Black with gold lettering: names, birthdates, issue date.
Han Seol and Han Byeol snatched theirs, hands shaking.
"Thank you."
"Congrats on becoming my first citizens."
Half-joking to preempt Han Seol's tears. But they went silent. Contrary to my guess, Han Byeol teared up first.
"Master!"
She hugged me, sobbing. Tears contagious, Han Seol joined, clinging tight.
"H-Hey, easy..."
Shampoo and body wash scents from their necks dizzied me. Eyes half-rolled back already.
I patted their backs with trembling hands, thinking, This is paradise.
Savoring the sweet aroma, indulging selfishly, when a new message appeared.
House grade elevated from 'Ordinary Residence' to 'Safe House'.
I bolted upright, yelling,
"It's unlocked!"