Cracks in the Shelter
Yeong-ju’s sharp hypothesis put a crack right through the comfortable life we had built inside the Shelter.
The possibility that we might have to hunt zombies together felt like a terror too heavy to bear for people who had only just clawed their way out of hell—especially for Yang Jin-ju and Nam Jin-ju.
I looked at them for a moment, then decided further discussion was pointless. Talking any longer in this state would only feed each other’s anxiety.
“Let’s… stop for today.”
My voice came out more exhausted than I intended.
“Yeong-ju might be right, but nothing’s confirmed yet. The idea that we have to kill zombies to become Companions is still just our guess. So let’s take some time and think it over properly.
There might be another way. Don’t jump to conclusions too fast.”
It was clumsy comfort at best, but I had nothing better to offer right then. In the end we rose from our seats without any clear answer, each of us carrying our own tangled thoughts.
It was already late enough that we should have eaten dinner, yet everyone was too preoccupied to do more than pick at the food before heading to their rooms.
The footsteps that carried us down the corridor felt heavier than ever. The Shelter’s hallway, usually silent and perfect, seemed especially long and cold tonight. I was just reaching for the doorknob of Room 1 when a voice stopped me from behind.
“Wait a second, Seo Yeong-chan.”
Yang Jin-ju. Nam Jin-ju had already gone into Room 3, and Yeong-ju, standing in front of Room 2, shot me a quick glance. A flicker of suspicion and something like wariness crossed her eyes before she slipped into her room without a word. The corridor was left to just the two of us.
I turned. The fear and unease I had seen on her face in the support room earlier were gone; in their place was a hard resolve mixed with emotions I couldn’t quite read. She clasped her hands in front of her, fidgeting with her fingers as if nervous.
“I need to talk to you. Just the two of us.”
Her voice was low and serious. The way she checked the hallway made her look like a spy arranging a secret rendezvous.
“Earlier you mentioned that in the game there were other ways to raise affinity besides hunting monsters together—things like clearing quests as a party, or raising affection. Could you tell me more about that?”
I hesitated, unsure of her intent. Why did she want to discuss that part alone?
“Sure. Want to go to the cafeteria? It’d be more comfortable sitting down.”
“No.”
She shook her head firmly.
“I’m sorry, but… could we talk in your room?”
“My room?”
The unexpected request caught me off guard. She avoided my eyes and added in a small voice,
“…Jin-ju’s having a really hard time right now. Today shook her up badly. I want to give her some space alone. If it’s just the two of us talking quietly…”
Her reasoning made sense, yet I still wondered why it had to be just the two of us—and in my room of all places. Curiosity about her real motives stirred, but the desperation in her eyes was too strong to refuse.
“…All right. Come in.”
I opened the door to Room 1 and stepped aside. She hesitated for a beat, then steeled herself and quietly entered.
I closed the door behind us.
The moment it shut, an awkward, heavy silence settled over the small room. Unlike the bright corridor outside, the interior was lit only by soft indirect lighting meant for sleeping; everything lay in gentle shadow.
The sudden private meeting felt so strange that I cleared my throat for no reason. The thought that Yeong-ju in Room 2 next door, or Nam Jin-ju at the far end in Room 3, might be listening made me suddenly wonder how good the soundproofing really was—and grow cautious.
The room held only a plush bed, a small desk, and a single chair. I sat on the edge of the bed and offered her the chair.
“Sit.”
Yang Jin-ju sat without a word, eyes still fixed on the floor, mouth closed. She looked like someone about to broach something both crucial and difficult, nervously working her fingers. Her shoulders were tight with tension; her breathing was shallow and quick.
I decided to wait in silence until she spoke first. Pressing her would only make her more anxious. So I simply watched every small movement she made.
How long passed? A minute? Maybe five?
Time stretched meaninglessly inside the narrow space.
At last she seemed to reach a decision. She slowly lifted her head and met my eyes.
“Earlier… when you were talking in the support room, you mentioned ‘affinity.’”
Her voice was tiny, heavy and limp like waterlogged cotton.
“In the game, what does that ‘affinity’ actually mean? How do you raise it, and once it goes up… what changes?”
On the surface it sounded like a pure question about the conditions for becoming a Companion. But I sensed instinctively that she wasn’t asking for a system guide. She was asking about another kind of relationship entirely.
I thought for a moment, then answered while digging through my game memories, trying to keep my tone as calm and objective as possible.
“Well… usually in games, affinity is basically a number that shows how favorably a particular character feels toward you. It’s the system’s convenient way of turning an invisible heart into a visible score. Kind of like… intimacy.”
“Intimacy…”
She repeated the word softly. It seemed to send a ripple through her thoughts.
“There are lots of ways to raise it. Like I said before, clearing tough quests together or helping each other in dangerous situations—working toward a common goal—can raise it naturally. That’s basically what we’ve been doing so far.”
I continued.
“But beyond that… giving someone a gift they like, or saying the words they want to hear? Sometimes just sitting quietly beside them is enough. Little things like that pile up and raise affinity. And once it hits a certain level, the person stops being a simple companion and can become something more special—a lover, or family.”
When I finished, Yang Jin-ju lowered her head again, lost in deep thought, staring at the floor.
Heavy, tension-filled silence returned to the room, and I waited with bated breath for her next words.
“Haa…”
After staring at the floor for a long while, Yang Jin-ju finally raised her head as if she had made up her mind. Her eyes no longer wavered. Instead they held the light of someone who had steeled herself.
“I’ll be honest.”
She spoke.
“I also think Seo Yeong-ju’s theory is the most likely. Going back outside and killing a certain number of zombies together with you—that’s probably the surest and fastest way to become Companions. The system… might want that kind of clear action.”
She paused and glanced once at the darkness beyond the window.
“But…”
Her voice trembled slightly.
“If you ask me whether we can actually do that right now… I don’t think so. I’m scared and it would be hard for me too, but Jin-ju… it would be even harder for her. You saw her in the support room today.
Just the thought of going outside again is enough to send her into a panic. Is it really right to drag someone like that out and force her to kill zombies? If she actually loses her mind in the process, or dies…”
She explained her thoughts carefully, quietly. It wasn’t mere emotional pleading.
When she finished, silence filled the room again. I couldn’t argue. I understood the terror Nam Jin-ju must have felt all too well. I waited quietly for her next words.
After some time she finally laid out the real purpose of this private meeting.
“So… if Jin-ju and I… if the two of us can’t bring ourselves to go outside for a while…”
She looked straight into my eyes and asked with extreme caution,
“Would it be all right if I tried the other method I thought of? That other possibility for raising affinity.”
“…Another method?”
“Yeah. But first I want to talk it over with Seo Yeong-ju. Is that okay?”
The unexpected proposal left me speechless for a moment. Why talk to Seo Yeong-ju first instead of me? I was the Master of this Shelter.
Was it because I was a man and that made her uncomfortable? Or did she think it would be easier talking woman to woman?
All sorts of thoughts flashed through my mind, but I didn’t ask. The resolve in her eyes no longer allowed questions.
“…All right. Do that.”
At my answer, a look of relief crossed Yang Jin-ju’s face, as if she had set down a heavy burden.
“Thank you. Really.”
With that she stood and left my room.
Alone again, I began worrying about what lay ahead. What other method had she thought of? And how would that method change the relationship among the four of us? The tangled thoughts made my head ache.
How much time passed? At least ten minutes. I got up from the bed and stretched, trying to sort out the mess in my mind.
Right then came a firm knock on the door.
I opened it without thinking—and froze at the person standing there.
Yeong-ju.
Arms crossed, she glared at me with a thoroughly sour, sulky expression.
“Move. I’m coming in.”
Her voice was as blunt as ever, but it carried the weight of a command rather than a request. She acted as if this were her room all along. I scrambled out of the way; she shot me one sharp glance, stepped inside, and slammed the door shut behind me with a distinctly irritable bang.
When she turned around, a faint, mocking smile hung on her lips.
“You sure bring a lot of girls into this room, huh?”
The barbed joke landed square in my chest.
“Huh? N-no! You’ve got it wrong! It’s not like that!”
I waved my hands frantically.
“We just needed to discuss what comes next, and there wasn’t a good place, so we talked in my room! That’s all! Really!”
At my pathetic excuses Yeong-ju closed her eyes instead of answering. Her brow furrowed slightly, as if she were desperately holding back rising irritation. Her silence unsettled me more than any scolding could have.
She scanned the room once, then sat on the edge of my bed as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Without a word she patted the spot beside her with her palm—a silent, unhesitating order to sit.
I swallowed dryly and perched next to her, stiff as a board. The soft mattress tilted under our combined weight; our shoulders brushed and my heart gave an involuntary jump. Last night’s heated memories flashed through my mind whether I wanted them to or not.
For a long time she simply stared at me with that same sulky face, her gaze sharp and relentless, as if trying to pierce straight into my thoughts. I couldn’t bear it and ended up fidgeting with my own hands.
“…W-what is it? Do you have something to say?”
I finally broke the silence. I felt like I would suffocate if it went on any longer.
“What did you just talk about with Yang Jin-ju?”
She asked point-blank. I had expected the question, but her voice was colder and heavier than I had imagined.
“Can you… tell me too?”
There was something more than simple curiosity in her tone. Jealousy? Or anxiety?
I paused for a second. Yang Jin-ju hadn’t asked me to keep it secret. And this concerned all four of us anyway. There was no reason to hide it from Yeong-ju.
I made up my mind and began explaining the entire conversation with Yang Jin-ju from start to finish, as objectively and carefully as I could.
Her thoughts on the conditions for becoming a Companion, her fear of going outside again, her worry for Nam Jin-ju, and the fact that she wanted to discuss the other possibility—affinity—with Yeong-ju first before talking it over with me. I stuck strictly to the facts, keeping my voice even.
“….”
While I spoke, Yeong-ju closed her eyes again. She listened without the slightest movement. Her face was expressionless; I couldn’t guess what she was thinking.
When I finally finished, she slowly opened her eyes and looked at me once more with that same sulky expression, as if she wanted to hear the answer she already knew from my own mouth again.
She let out a long, long sigh. It seemed to carry a complicated mix of feelings toward me.
“…Okay.”
That single word was all she left before she stood up abruptly. Before I could say anything she opened the door and walked out.
I stayed behind, staring blankly at the door she had vanished through.
“Okay… okay what?”
I couldn’t make sense of Yeong-ju’s behavior at all. It wasn’t anger, and it wasn’t agreement either—just that ambiguous reaction.