147. Surviving in Kim Su-ho's Seoul (1)
Let's rewind time a bit and take a closer look at the current situation on the Korean Peninsula—that is, what's happening in Seoul.
As mentioned before, Seoul had collapsed into virtual anarchy after the central government and National Assembly fell apart, plunging the city into utter chaos. The initial suppression efforts in the early days of the apocalypse failed spectacularly, and to make matters worse, a massive downpour hammered the city right then, sealing its fate. The executive branch was torn to shreds, every member of the National Assembly wiped out, and it was Kim Su-ho, Seoul's hero, who stepped in to pick up the pieces of that headless corpse.
"How the hell do we sort out this mess?"
The problem was that while Kim Su-ho rescued the remnants of the Republic of Korea and rose to prominence as Seoul's representative Awakener, swiftly stabilizing things, all he really had were the bureaucrats—no legitimate authority to speak of. In other words, when he took charge of the chaos, the president and National Assembly members were missing, and even the cabinet ministers had vanished without a trace.
In that situation, with only bureaucrats in tow, Kim Su-ho's options were limited.
"Realistically, we have to abandon Gangbuk."
First, he had to face reality. Without any authority, leading just a ragtag group of Korean remnants, controlling all of Seoul was impossible. His priority wasn't reclaiming the entire city—it was finding practical means right now and making them real. And the first step was properly grasping Seoul's grim reality.
Accepting that, Kim Su-ho judged that Gangbuk was effectively lost.
"With everything a mess from the downpour, we can't cross the Han River into Gangbuk! So... we'll use the Han as our defensive line and hold Gangnam at all costs."
Truth be told, they lacked the manpower to advance anyway. His group was tiny, with only Kim Su-ho himself and a handful of loyal followers able to fight—saving all of Seoul was a pipe dream. So, with what he had, he turned the Han River—practically an impregnable natural fortress—into a defensive line, vowing to protect Gangnam no matter what.
"We need to let the people in Gangbuk know!"
"We can use the still-functional emergency alert system for that, sir. It'll be quick."
"Do it now."
Of course, he didn't just abandon Gangbuk residents to the undead as meat shields. Through the remnants, he accessed surviving government facilities and sent emergency texts urging people north of the river to cross the bridges into Gangnam. He requisitioned supplies from districts, fortifying every bridge over the Han.
"We'll fight with you!"
"Let us smash these damn zombies!"
Kim Su-ho's talents as a field commander shone through. Drawn by the charisma of his Han River defense plan, Awakeners began trickling in. Most were on-site bureaucrats or mid-level managers who quickly grasped the apocalyptic reality and were captivated by his decisive action—doing the best with what was possible.
"Only Kim Su-ho can save Seoul!"
"Following the man who saves lives is justice!"
Above all, they were moved by how he'd single-handedly salvaged the headless government and used its networks without hesitation to save people. To others, he looked like a visionary hero surviving the end times, with a clear path forward.
"The Han is an outstanding natural barrier. Hardly any way around it. If we hold the bridges, we can ignore most zombies from Gangbuk."
He knew the river's value well and devised strategies around it. Seoul itself was designed as a war city against North Korea, so fortifying defenses didn't take long. Once established, Gangnam became Seoul's safe haven. Word spread, and bridges clogged with desperate refugees.
Up to here, Kim Su-ho was undeniably Seoul's hero—saving countless lives, earning fame as its leader. His policies had succeeded.
Or so it seemed.
Where people gather, social issues follow. And the side effects of his bold moves soon emerged—perhaps the harbinger of his future misfortunes.
"Refugees? You must've had it rough fleeing the zombies. Please head to the shelters we've prepared."
"When are you retaking our homes? We saved up for those houses! Take them back now—my life's over without it!"
"Well..."
"Why the delay? Our houses are collapsing! Our families!"
First came the refugee complaints. With Gangnam as a haven, it looked like Korea hadn't fully collapsed. Kim Su-ho, commanding the Han defenses, became the target. Most griped about property or family left in Gangbuk, but it boiled down to: I'm suffering, so fix it fast. They couldn't accept the apocalypse, escaping into denial.
"I'm sorry."
"Sorry? Just solve it! I want out of this nightmare!"
This was tame, really—just denial. Kim Su-ho understood, unable to lash out.
The real trouble came next.
"You. Using government networks without authorization? Who are you with? Got the authority?"
"Position? Authority...? None, sir."
"So you're just a civilian."
Word of the shelters drew surviving high officials and ministers south. Their cooperation could've eased things, saved more lives.
But instead...
"What? You won't follow my orders? What do you mean?"
"You have no right to command us. This is overstepping the president's authority—tampering with state affairs!"
They rebuked Kim Su-ho for usurping executive power, turning hostile. To them, Korea lived on; their authority intact. Him using it felt like humiliation.
Kim Su-ho had no defense—pre-apocalypse, it was illegal for a civilian to commandeer state resources.
"I admit it. I used your authority without permission. But this is apocalypse-scale disaster, right? I sincerely apologize, so please overlook it this once."
But it was the end times, demanding swift decisions. Without his actions, Gangnam wouldn't be safe—they might not even be here. He understood the overreach but argued it saved lives, apologizing while pleading for unity.
"Impossible. We follow the president only."
"No! Without your help, our defenses could crumble!"
Bound by loyalty—or stubbornness—they ignored his hero status, declaring they wouldn't obey except a tiny aware few. This limited his access to executive tools, hampering the Han defense.
He could've ignored their authority, cut ties. But...
"This is an emergency! Please follow the commander's lead!"
Kim Su-ho wasn't ruthless enough. Unable to send them to death, he compromised, keeping the "Republic of Korea" banner.
He never dreamed absorbing old officials would be a massive blunder. It convinced Seoulites and regional survivors Korea endured.
"I'm a National Assembly member."
"Understood. Head to the shelter."
"No. I'll command this operation."
Now, pre-apocalypse titles let pretenders challenge him. With the Assembly decimated, who could verify? A self-proclaimed successor to a dead proportional rep? No way to check.
To Kim Su-ho, it was a stranger with a knife, stealing his work.
"Pardon?"
"Korea hasn't ended. Time for the Assembly to step up, right?"
Clinging to "Korea lives," they invoked parliamentary duty. Stunned, Kim Su-ho stared.
"I refuse."
"You'll regret it."
A fake likely, and handing over his defenses on title alone? No way.
He might've listened if they promised better strategy—but this was theft.
No problem. Who'd follow a nothing congressman?
The warning didn't faze him; field staff loyalty held firm, officials already sidelined him.
"Why aren't you following orders?"
"You're not the president."
"B-but... it's urgent! Overreach, yes, but...!"
Next problem.
"No need. Only the president commands us."
Keeping the banner fueled delusions of ongoing authority, routine interference now.
But...
"We still need to save people."
Rescuing arrivals was fine, but Kim Su-ho overdid it, exceeding Gangnam's capacity. His real failure: post-rescue support and mental care.
"I can't stay with these leftists who wrecked the country! Not with pro-North traitors!"
"You damn right-wing bastard! What did we do? You're the nightmare's cause!"
"This pro-North scum threatening citizens!?"
"Shut it, pro-North! What era is this? Hilarious, you Japan-lover!"
Unable to face reality, extremists dredged up Korea's old red-baiting. Absurd in apocalypse, it split Gangnam's security into factions, worsening chaos.
Kim Su-ho was swamped with defenses—fair not to multitask. Hard to blame him.
"Everyone, calm down... We'll separate the shelters."
"I won't bunk with leftists!"
"You think I'd share space with right-wingers?"
Despite defense overload, he carved out time, unwittingly extending Korea's "life."
A clash forcing reality's bite might've changed things. But relying solely on his goodwill trivialized conflicts for them.
"Mr. Kim Su-ho... is this really right?"
"I don't know."
And this was just the beginning—despair loomed far ahead, a truly bleak prospect.