149. Surviving in Kim Su-ho's Seoul (3)
In truth, all these problems stemmed from the fact that Kim Su-ho had managed the chaotic aftermath of the great downpour so effectively that he preserved the very signboard of the Republic of Korea. In other words, his exploits had convinced not only the old government's ministers and self-proclaimed assembly members, but even Seoul's citizens, that the Republic of Korea hadn't ended yet.
If the Republic of Korea had truly collapsed, those ministers and self-proclaimed assembly members would have recognized the gravity of the situation and cooperated with Kim Su-ho just to survive.
'I'm still a citizen of the Republic of Korea, and they're telling me to end it? Isn't that going too far?'
Even Kim Su-ho himself, the very man at the center of it all, still believed the Republic of Korea hadn't ended. The president and real assembly members were missing, but their surviving staff had made it through, and Kim Su-ho was using them to restore order in Seoul. From his perspective, it was hard to say the nation had perished outright.
Like it or not, Kim Su-ho was the faction that benefited most from keeping the Republic of Korea's signboard intact.
"But that's just talk. Anyone in the know already realizes the Republic of Korea is nothing but a hollow shell."
"If that signboard vanishes, what logic do we have to command these people? What honor do we have to earn their respect?"
Of course, the insiders knew full well that the Republic of Korea was a tattered facade. They weren't rebelling out of ignorance; they clung desperately to that crumbling signboard precisely because they knew Kim Su-ho was propping it up single-handedly.
"You think we have a choice? We're in a position where we have to leech off this ragged shell."
"Heh. To think we've fallen this low. These are the end times, alright."
The basis for inciting and commanding the citizenry, and for even daring to stand against the overwhelmingly powerful Kim Su-ho, came entirely from that lingering signboard—the authority and status it guaranteed. Without it, they'd be reduced to mere refugees begging for Kim Su-ho's protection, stripped of everything they'd held. That's why they obsessed over the Republic of Korea's name even more than he did.
Even if it was a house of cards, they had to grovel like beasts to keep the scraps of power in their grasp.
"No choice but to keep running things like this. If something better comes along, we'll go with that."
At least Kim Su-ho excelled in the most crucial aspects of this apocalypse: combat prowess and field command skills that made you question if he'd chosen the wrong career. He built the Han River defense line, used it as a base to gradually reclaim control of Gangnam, restored Seoul's urban functions, secured food and supplies, and managed the shelters—all on his shoulders.
He had proven himself the hero born of this apocalypse to every soul in Seoul, drawing the remnants of the old Republic of Korea to his side.
"Damn it, can't he be competently incompetent for once?!"
"We can't pull off a 'kill the dog after the hunt'!"
That exceptional talent allowed him to maintain the signboard—and drew even more parasites clinging to it.
As the price for his god-given combat and command abilities...
"My head hurts."
...his political acumen—the ability to forge social consensus—was sorely lacking. Abysmal, even. With a steadfast, iron-willed heart, he demanded cooperation from the old elite but offered not a single word to soothe their anxieties or desires.
Naturally, those vested interests chafed at Kim Su-ho arbitrarily seizing their privileges. They were deeply disappointed by his rigid insistence on righteousness and propriety.
If he'd shown even a shred of flexibility, assuaging their fears and ambitions, a traitor swearing loyalty might have emerged from their ranks.
Kim Su-ho bore some responsibility for failing to sway the elite, but blaming him outright was unfair.
"Who knew I'd have to play politics?!"
After all, Kim Su-ho had lived an ordinary life untouched by politics. A typical apolitical everyman suddenly thrust into commanding the Han River defense line—and negotiating with the entrenched elite.
He could handle the defense line with his innate talent, but persuasion and oratory relied more on life experience and social savvy than raw ability. It was forcing him into something utterly unsuited.
"I got discharged and the apocalypse hit right away!"
He'd just finished his long national service when the end came. Forget bad luck—he wanted to curse the heavens for piling on the trials.
"Haha, that's some rotten luck, Your Excellency. Discharged one day, recommissioned as an officer the next."
"I didn't even get officer training!"
"Exactly why it's so impressive. Talent really exists."
Unlucky for him personally, but to Seoul—to this remnant of the Republic of Korea—he was the superhuman on a white horse arriving at the direst hour. Commanding the masses and manifesting his visions into reality without training was true genius.
That drew unwavering loyalty from countless bureaucrats and field officials who'd served the Republic, forming his bedrock support.
"So, what's the issue?"
"Another problem's cropped up."
"Again?!"
If you named the busiest person in Gangnam, it'd be Kim Su-ho, hands down. Managing the vast Han River line while leading his elite followers.
But that wasn't bad—it proved he'd inherited the Republic's legacy wholesale. Compared to the distant Balhut Cult in Gyeongju, his foundation was unmatched.
Gyeongju's cult lacked specialized agents, forced to train civilians from scratch with scavenged know-how. Kim Su-ho had no such worries; keep the signboard up, and elite troops and soldiers rallied automatically.
If Balhut Cult's Dragon God Bahamut saw this, he'd envy how effortlessly Kim Su-ho mustered elites and Awakeners—politics aside.
His command drew powerhouses no other faction could match.
"Yes. Intel says crime syndicates and bloodthirsty raiders are disguising as refugees, sneaking into Gangnam from across the Han."
"If crime groups infiltrate now, it'll be chaos! Capture them at the defense line or block entry."
"Understood."
That foundation completed the Han River line and secured total control. Keeping the Republic's name yielded its trained elites too. Internal politics were a snag, but he wasn't cornered.
In this world, raw force to protect yourself mattered most—and Kim Su-ho could launch a praetorian coup, ignoring all conventions if needed.
"Oh, and here's intel compiled by the NIS from various regions. Take your time."
"Thanks, agent."
Above all, with the National Intelligence Service as allies, Kim Su-ho could peruse the Republic's secrets at leisure. He planned operations on their intel—not just Seoul, but provincial cities, infiltrated at great risk.
"Gyeongju's Balhut Cult. Busan's Immortal Cult. Raiders masquerading as refugees everywhere. Chaos. At least Daegu's forming a provisional government. Others lagging."
That network let him spot the Balhut and Immortal Cults first, track regional statuses, grasp the Republic's real-time state.
Most intel was grim, wearing down his spirit.
"It's crumbling bit by bit."
His stalkers, obsessed with his moves, sensed his faltering and plotted to push harder.
Direct confrontation was suicide. They lacked the clout for a coup, and even united, they'd lose to him alone. Korea's first Superhuman lived up to the hype—he could slaughter them all solo.
"That raider heading for the Han River line?"
"Crime syndicates too. Heh, I've got a brilliant idea!"
They targeted tailored agitation and fabrication—political warfare. Even routine policing became fodder.
"Citizens, behold Kim Su-ho! Chasing away poor souls risking death to reach our Han River line for survival! Can you deny this is a dictator?! Kim Su-ho is a tyrant destroying democracy! Rise up!"
"He's no hero of Seoul anymore!"
In their hands, crime syndicates morphed into desperate refugees—perfect propaganda.
They knew damn well these weren't innocents but blood-addicted thugs. In Kim Su-ho's shoes, they'd bar them too.
"He's the boss? His fault then."
"What I do is romance. What you do is adultery."
Classic double standards. They didn't care if his policies were right—they wanted his prestige tarnished.
"Trust in me!"
"Conservatives, unite! We must resist!"
Some even formed factions within his ranks, leveraging old networks to build power in Gangnam—common in survivor camps elsewhere. Kim Su-ho didn't overreact.
"Forming groups is fine. Will you help us?"
"Of course. For our rights, we'll aid Mr. Kim Su-ho."
He invited them, acknowledged their leadership, sought cooperation. A group meant fighters against zombies—precious manpower.
But they prioritized self-interest over noble ideals.
"Are you really helping? This breaks our agreement."
They took his supplies, grew their faction, left the Han River line on him. Kim Su-ho confronted their headache-inducing betrayal sternly.
"Aren't we helping? We're holding the line properly."
"Problems erupted on your section, yet you took supplies shamelessly."
"Minor field errors."
"You begged for that section. If you slack, aren't you abandoning civilians risking lives for safety?"
"We can't control everything like you, Mr. Kim."
At least they toed the line somewhat, pursuing gains without outright defying him. Annoying, but they listened.
"We must rescue survivors in Gangbuk."
"Good cause. Then stay on the Han River line, Mr. Kim."
"...Pardon?"
Now factions challenged his commands outright. Flush with his supplies, Gangnam groups nitpicked, chasing political wins—even absurd ones, populist ploys.
"Who guards the line without you?"
"So you'll rescue Gangbuk survivors?"
"Yes. Our Seoul Youth Corps will handle it brilliantly."
They aimed to eclipse his achievements, sideline him, claim the line for themselves.
Kim Su-ho was speechless at their baseless bravado, wondering its source.
They had it, of course.
"I'm an Awakener too! If he can, so can I!"
"Zombies only! All Awakener party? Low risk!"
"Kim Su-ho's overhyped. Time for me to be Seoul's hero!"
Ego-driven moths to his flame—basement NEET warlords fantasizing as protagonists now real.
Common in the apocalypse. Even Dragon Priestesses Choi Yu-na and Baek Seol-hwa, contracted to Bahamut, started similarly—ambition unbound.
But the difference with these lumpen...
"Dangerous. Gangbuk's undead-infested. No clue what's deep inside! Without full cooperation..."
"Enough."
"...Huh?"
...was zero self-awareness. Blind faith in victory, sans logic or evidence. Where was reason? Objectivity?
Sub-level-10 weaklings ignored the Superhuman's advice.
"Are you our boss, Mr. Kim? You never had authority over us. We'll handle it. Didn't come for your nagging."
They rejected his lead, oozing petty jealousy.
Had they succeeded despite ignoring him, he'd chalk it to arrogance masking skill and will.
"So... they lost?"
"Yes. Charged out cockily, wiped out."
"All that manpower and supplies..."
"Gone."
They failed spectacularly, vanishing after devouring his investment.
Kim Su-ho wondered if they were truly 21st-century humans like him.
"Why sacrifice for Gangbuk folk?!"
"Relocate them elsewhere!"
As time dragged, even Gangnam's base frayed, griping endlessly. Locals rebelled against refugees; now Kim Su-ho mediated Gangbuk-Gangnam strife.
Petty regionalism pre-apocalypse.
"What do you expect me to do?!"
He lacked bandwidth for that too.
"This is such bullshit."
Battered by endless adversity, on the brink of breaking.
"Need a way to turn this around."
Yet he'd somehow prepared a reversal for the gloom—proving he truly was Seoul's white-horse Superhuman savior.