24. Reconstruction (1)
Peaceful daily life is returning. Every resident of Gyeongju must feel it. After all, no ordinary person inside the city has been bitten by a zombie and turned into one of the undead for quite some time now.
"Hey, Kim! Bring out the washed dishes!"
"Coming, Mom!"
Kim Tae-hyeon, who worked in the Balhut Cult's cafeteria, felt this change more than anyone. After Gyeongju's liberation, he'd leveraged his culinary arts major to land a job there. Of course, there were plenty of more experienced chefs and former business owners with superior skills, so college TA Kim Tae-hyeon ended up as the kitchen's youngest assistant.
It was grueling work, but he had no complaints. In fact, he was quite satisfied with his current lot.
"Looking good today."
"You look beat."
"Washing dishes all day'll do that."
For one thing, his personal safety was now ironclad—and that thrilled him. The Balhut Cult cafeteria was in the safest spot on the grounds, guarded by awakeners who would lay down their lives for it. To cult members who remembered fighting to the death over scraps of food in the apocalypse, having awakeners standing watch was already building unshakable trust.
Above all, they could eat their fill without restraint. Some even shed tears upon joining the cult.
"What happened today?"
"Don't ask. Word is Commander Dong-gun's putting together a proper expedition team for a big push outward."
"Zombies are still thick out there."
"They're developing some new weapon to counter them."
While distributing meals to cult members, Kim Tae-hyeon chatted with the affiliated awakeners, picking up detailed intel on external threats and internal cult affairs. This only reinforced his conviction that joining had saved his family.
On top of that, the kitchen gig came with pay and meals, enough to support his household. No more trembling day-to-day under zombie threats—his life had stabilized beyond return.
"Ah, you're in today too, Tae-hyeon."
"Ah, Lady Yu-na! You're as radiant as ever."
"Haha, thanks."
And if luck smiled, he'd serve his benefactor, Choi Yu-na, during distribution. As pontiff of the Balhut Cult, she could dine in luxury, but she insisted everyone was equal under Bahamut and ate at the cafeteria like any member. Of course, some found her presence intimidating or reverent, so she only showed up two or three times a week.
Today, fortune favored Kim Tae-hyeon during her visit.
Luck's on my side today.
It truly was. Serving her the best-looking portions gave him fresh bragging rights among friends and colleagues.
"Oh, right—the cult's starting a school soon. Any young kids in your family, Tae-hyeon?"
"My little sister. We'll enroll her, of course."
"We've brought in teachers. Not like before the end times, but..."
"That's more than enough."
It really was. His family was getting back to work, and his sister would attend the cult's new school. Sure, it lacked pre-apocalypse standards, but it etched one truth into his mind:
We're actually rebuilding.
Streets buzzed with laborers and awakeners thrown into reconstruction. Scout teams bravely probed uncleared areas, while official expeditions hit outer villages and towns. Successful returns flooded markets with goods, sparking envy from raiders—who in turn faced the cult's emerging police force, the Security Squad. Their exploits were restoring order street by street.
Kim Tae-hyeon had heard wandering awakener crimes were plummeting. Who'd dare commit crimes in Balhut Cult territory? he thought, inwardly condemning the offenders.
"Starting today, no more supply distributions."
"Huh?"
A month into Gyeongju's reconstruction, the cult abruptly halted rations. It hit Kim Tae-hyeon like a gut punch.
"Instead, we'll issue coins redeemable at our commissary stores. Check the Balhut Cult site community for usage details."
"Coins?"
His pay hadn't vanished. Rations ended, but daily wages came as Balhut Cult-issued coins. The clerk called them "coins" grandly, but Kim Tae-hyeon knew better.
"This is money, right?"
Yes, money. For buying goods. Just like pre-apocalypse cash.
"Everyone's getting them."
Others received coins too. Initial panic over lost rations gave way to realization: they were paid in actual currency now—not worthless old won, but freshly minted cult coins.
"Cool."
He didn't know where the mint was, but the coins were finely crafted, collector-worthy.
The clerk continued: "Daily pay this month, but monthly salaries next. Please budget and save accordingly."
Daily this month, salaries next. From rationed apocalypse drudgery to pre-end-times normalcy.
This is like company life?
Yes, normalization. The world was reverting.
"Next month, we'll collect electricity and water fees. Once currency stabilizes, income tax too—keep that in mind."
Pre-apocalypse utility bills that drove parents mad. Wallet-drainers hated by citizens—yet today, they were welcome. Sacrilegious as it sounded, he wished tax day would hurry.
"...We're returning to normal."
To ordinary days. This city was the new world he craved. Yu-na's prophecy had come true.
As if entranced, Kim Tae-hyeon clutched the notice and his day's coins, trudging home.
"Welcome back, Tae-hyeon!"
"Yeah, Mom."
Home wasn't their old apartment but a free renovated villa from the cult's reconstruction team. Mom and Dad were already back, Mom fiddling thoughtfully with his coins.
"...Tae-hyeon, your father and I are thinking of taking a shot."
"A shot? What do you mean, Dad?"
They'd resolved to challenge themselves.
"Yeah. We want to open a shop."
"Your mom and I aim to strike it rich in business."
Dad's challenge: self-employment. But Tae-hyeon scratched his head nervously.
"Uh... money."
Even basic shops needed cash—rent, renovations, tools. For retail, suppliers and sales networks too. No connections? No chance. Yet...
"Real estate's worthless now. The cult declared old properties valueless."
"Oh."
This was the apocalypse. Old values reset in zombie hell. Safe in his kitchen job, Tae-hyeon overlooked it, but zombie hordes and raiders still lurked. Korean assets? Wiped clean. Startup costs? Minimal.
"The cult rejects old property values and ownership. Makes sense—zombie-ravaged land, unprovable deeds anyway."
Balhut Cult seized and redistributed buildings. Land would follow: confiscate, then sell. Ruthless for old rich, but a golden opportunity for Tae-hyeon's family, with just one forever-rental apartment.
"So, what business?"
"Food service."
Tough gig. Hardest of self-employment.
"Isn't that brutal?"
"Of course."
"But everyone's broke now. Work hard, and we can make bank—leave you a shop someday."
Everyone poor. Grind with death-defying zeal, become prosperous for their son.
Tae-hyeon got their fire but worried: Can we really shop with these coins? Freshly issued—credit's iffy.
"Will these coins work for business? They're brand new."
Fair point—no one knew their value yet. Hoard them, only for them to crash? Devastating.
"Oh, you haven't checked the cult site. Bahamut himself guarantees their value and credit."
"B-Bahamut himself!?"
Bahamut. Special name to Tae-hyeon. The Balhut Cult's god, valiant benevolent dragon. Slayer of Gyeongju's zombies, bringer of peace. Still guarding against threats—and now backing these coins.
"Alright, I'll look into it."
That changed everything. Dragging his weary body, Tae-hyeon headed straight for the commissary.
If parents went entrepreneurial, he'd help.
At the cult's store, he saw:
"Selling! Brand new stuff, never used!"
"Fire sale! Everything must go! No more tuna cans or ramen—coins only!"
Hawkers everywhere, trusting the coins already. Mats overflowed with household junk—useless and useful alike. Flea market vibes. We can definitely do this.
"Trade ramen or tuna for coins. Slightly below our retail, of course."
"Other stuff too?"
"Yes. Electronics, precious metals, gold. Our appraisers will help."
The store bustled: sales, bulk buys of cult members' goods and jewels. Clear push for market economy revival.
"Mom, Dad."
After browsing store and stalls, Tae-hyeon spotted business boosters.
"Let's start with a food cart to build our name. I checked—the cult even has business corp info."
The Kim family's first venture: street food cart.