Shelter 5
The next morning, when we gathered again in the dining hall, the air had shed the previous night’s heaviness and felt considerably lighter. Nam Jin-ju was no longer on the verge of tears, and the usual composure had returned to Yang Jin-ju’s face.
I had no idea what conversation the two of them had shared overnight, but at least they seemed to have escaped the worst of their terror, which was a relief.
To lighten the mood, I spoke up in a deliberately bright voice.
“Alright, everyone, let’s not worry too much. One emergency food box holds thirty meals for five people, so if we eat three meals a day, one box lasts five people ten days, right? Then for the four of us… roughly twelve days or so. And we’ve got ten of those boxes, so that comes out to about a hundred and twenty days—nearly four full months with no problem. We still have plenty of time to think things through, so let’s not get too impatient.”
My calculated attempt at reassurance seemed to ease everyone for a moment. Four months was a concrete number that somewhat lifted the vague anxiety. But it was Yang Jin-ju who unexpectedly shattered that peace.
“No. That calculation is wrong.”
She said it coldly, spearing a mashed potato with her fork.
“These plants we’re eating—potatoes, vegetables, all of it. Even if we get seeds and plant them, we can’t eat them the next day. They take time to grow.”
At her words, Nam Jin-ju beside her nodded in agreement.
“That’s right. Potatoes usually take a solid three months—ninety days—from planting to harvest, and lettuce or other leafy greens will take at least over a month. That means we have to get seeds and plant them before the food we’re eating now runs out. The time we actually have left isn’t four months—it’s only a month or two.”
At that moment Yang Jin-ju spoke in a slightly exaggerated tone, as if she had been waiting for the opening.
“Come to think of it, Nam Jin-ju, you studied smart farming in college! You’re a total expert on this stuff, right? I always said you were smart.”
At the sudden praise, Nam Jin-ju blushed a little, looking flustered.
“Uh… well, yeah… I took it as a general-education course…. I only know the basics.”
Listening to their conversation, I sensed something odd in the atmosphere. Yang Jin-ju’s behavior looked as if she were deliberately trying to advertise Nam Jin-ju’s necessity and value to us—almost as if she were claiming that they, too, were essential to this shelter.
I wasn’t the only one who felt it. Yeong-ju, who had been quietly eating her sandwich, was staring blankly at Yang Jin-ju. Sensing that gaze, Yang Jin-ju’s face flushed bright red and she fell silent again.
Trying somehow to revive the awkward atmosphere, I blurted out without thinking.
“Hey, don’t worry too much! This shelter system is fully automatic, right? If we just put the seeds in, the cultivation system will probably grow them in the optimal environment as fast as possible. It might even be much shorter than normal growing periods. It was like that in the game!”
The instant the words left my mouth there was a dull thud and a sharp impact slammed into my shin under the table. Yeong-ju had kicked me.
When I looked at her with a “why?” expression, her eyes sent a silent order: Shut up and look over there.
Following her cue, I glanced at Yang Jin-ju and Nam Jin-ju. The two of them, as if by prior agreement, sat with their heads bowed, staring only at their plates. The conversation that had been flowing moments earlier had vanished; only cold silence remained over the table.
Only then did I realize how much hurt and anxiety my careless remark had caused them. They had wanted to secure their place in this shelter by proving their usefulness. With a single mention of an automatic system I had rendered all that effort worthless.
“Ah—no! That’s not what I meant! It’s absolutely not that we don’t need you…!”
Just as I was flustered and trying to backpedal out of guilt, Yeong-ju firmly seized my arm and shook her head, telling me to be quiet.
For a while the only sounds were the clink of dishes; a suffocating silence settled over us.
Finally Yeong-ju broke it. She looked straight at Yang Jin-ju and spoke.
“What you said to Seo Yeong-chan last night. Can we talk about it for a bit too?”
At the sudden proposal Yang Jin-ju’s eyes widened in surprise and she unconsciously turned her gaze toward me, as if asking, Did you tell her?
Yeong-ju snorted with a look of pure disbelief.
“Yeah. This bastard has zero sense, so he told me every single word you said to him.”
“Huh? No, there wasn’t any talk about keeping it secret….”
When I muttered as if wronged, Yang Jin-ju stared at me with an incredulous expression.
“Hey! Saying ‘let’s talk just the two of us’ means don’t tell other people! Do I have to spell it out for you to get it?”
“Enough about this bastard’s lack of sense for now!”
Yeong-ju cut her off and stood.
“You said you wanted to talk to me! Fine—I’ll listen. Follow me!”
Leaving only those words, she strode out of the dining hall. Yang Jin-ju shot me a tearful look, then seemed to resign herself and trudged after her.
Now only Nam Jin-ju and I remained, alone in the dining hall.
“…What on earth is going on, Oppa?”
Nam Jin-ju asked, eyes anxious.
Seo Yeong-ju and Yang Jin-ju headed for the support room. While they walked the corridor, not a single word passed between them. Yeong-ju’s back ahead of them was as cold as a sheet of ice; Yang Jin-ju’s steps following her were as heavy as a prisoner being dragged to the execution ground.
Yang Jin-ju fidgeted anxiously with her fingers. Her palms were already damp with sweat.
At last they reached the support room. The large screen that filled one wall still quietly displayed the scenery around the shelter.
Yeong-ju sat naturally in the seat that looked like the head of the conference table. Arms crossed, she silently stared at Yang Jin-ju.
Gauging that mood, Yang Jin-ju perched hesitantly on the opposite chair. Like a suspect in an interrogation room, her entire posture had shrunk in on itself.
Under the table her two hands were tightly clasped, trembling faintly. Yeong-ju’s cold gaze crushed her with powerful pressure. To escape it, Yang Jin-ju could only stare down at the surface of the table.
After a while Yeong-ju broke the suffocating silence first.
“You said you had something you wanted to talk about?”
Her voice was low, carrying no emotion at all.
“Go ahead.”
At that single word Yang Jin-ju’s shoulders visibly shrank. She moved her dry lips several times. Seeing it, Yeong-ju held out a cup of water; Yang Jin-ju took it with trembling hands. But her hands shook so hard the water inside sloshed audibly. She finally set the cup down and began to speak, stammering.
“That is… yesterday, with Seo Yeong-chan… we talked about the companion conditions….”
She poured out the conversation she had shared with Seo Yeong-chan the night before, from beginning to end, very slowly and with difficulty—the other possibility of “favorability,” and even her faint hope that there might be ways to become a companion besides hunting zombies.
Even while speaking she kept gauging Yeong-ju’s reaction. But Yeong-ju showed no change of expression; she simply listened in silence. That blank face only made Yang Jin-ju more anxious.
Because of it, a story that should have taken a few minutes stretched on for a very long time, broken by pauses and stammering.
When Yang Jin-ju’s long account finally ended, Yeong-ju was still quietly looking at her. The gaze was so heavy that Yang Jin-ju eventually lowered her head.
“So what is this other method you thought of?”
Yeong-ju asked.
“And why did you decide to tell me first instead of Seo Yeong-chan? I’d like to hear the reason for that.”
The question pierced straight to the core. Yang Jin-ju realized there was nowhere left to hide. She squeezed her eyes shut and, as if resigning everything, poured out her deepest thoughts.
She placed her trembling hands on the table and interlaced her fingers.
“…No matter how I look at it, what I’m trying to do… is going to look like I’m trying to seduce your man.”
Her voice was almost crawlingly small, yet the content was far too honest and bold.
“The method of raising favorability. Giving gifts, saying things he wants to hear… maybe something beyond that. Anyone can see that’s clear seduction.”
Yang Jin-ju drew a breath and continued.
“I… even though I’m younger than you or Seo Yeong-chan, I’ve seen things during college life.
Whether it’s a club or a study group, girls fighting over one guy—or the other way around—power struggles that shatter a small community in an instant… I watched it happen several times right after I entered school.
I know how foolish and dangerous a mistake that is. In our current situation, if something like that happens… then it’s really all over.”
She raised her head and looked at Yeong-ju.
“So… whether I get permission or not, I thought the proper order was to tell you first and ask for your opinion. Because I didn’t want to plot something behind your back.”
When her confession ended, a heavy silence settled once more over the support room. Yeong-ju closed her eyes for a long while without speaking. Her brow furrowed, very slightly.
At that tiny change Yang Jin-ju’s heart plummeted; she flinched and unconsciously drew her body back a little.
Aigoo, this crazy bitch! I should have just shut up—why did I open my mouth…! Seo Yeong-ju must be furious right now. Of course she is. What woman would stay quiet when another woman announces she’s going to seduce her man….
After a stretch of time that felt like eternity, Yeong-ju opened her eyes slowly, accompanied by a long, very long sigh. She looked at Yang Jin-ju with a complex, subtle, unreadable gaze that no longer held anger or wariness, then parted her lips to speak.
An awkward silence lingered in the dining hall. Together with the left-behind Nam Jin-ju, I simply stared blankly at the end of the corridor where the two of them had disappeared, without the slightest idea what was happening.
“…Um, Oppa. Will the two of them be okay?”
Nam Jin-ju asked in an anxious voice.
“They’ll be fine. Probably….”
I answered, pretending to be calm, but I was just as uneasy.
We sat back down at the table to finish the remaining breakfast. The food, however, refused to go down easily. To somehow break the awkward atmosphere I forced a change of subject.
“About what I said earlier—the smart farm. Besides the growing period, what about nutrition? Will the crops grown here have as much nutritional value as ones grown outside?”
At my question Nam Jin-ju hesitated a moment, then, as the topic of her major surfaced, gradually began to regain her liveliness.
“Hmm… probably much better? One of the biggest advantages of a smart farm is that you can artificially control the wavelength of light the plants need, or the composition of the nutrient solution, to maximize specific nutrients.
For example, making tomatoes richer in vitamin C, or growing spinach with more iron. With this shelter’s technology, whatever we imagine, it probably goes beyond that, right?”
She began passionately explaining the advantages of smart farms and the nutritional profiles of various crops, drawing on every scrap of knowledge she possessed.
I listened with genuine admiration and chimed in. For a long while we exchanged hopeful conversation about the future vegetable garden.
Right then the dining-hall door opened and Yeong-ju and Yang Jin-ju returned.
I reflexively checked their expressions. Yeong-ju wore the same unreadable, expressionless face as always. Yang Jin-ju, however, was different.
Her face held a mixture of relief and anxiety, and a complex, subtle look as though something had been resolved.
As she entered she glanced back and forth between Yeong-ju and me.
“So… did you finish talking?”
When I carefully asked, Yeong-ju answered shortly.
“Yeah. The talk I needed to have with her is all done.”
Saying that, she plopped down beside me again. Then, with complete naturalness, she pulled the steaming coffee cup I had prepared for myself after the meal over in front of her and took a sip.
At that exact moment a dull thud sounded under the table and a sharp impact slammed into my shin.
“Ow!”
The cry escaped before I could stop it. When I looked at her with a pained “why?” expression, she completely ignored me and continued drinking the coffee at her leisure. Then, as if shooing away an annoying insect, she smacked my shoulder once more with an irritated expression.
Yang Jin-ju, seated opposite, watched the bizarre scene with a very complicated look on her face.
“…We’ll get up for now.”
She stood with an awkward smile, took the still-bewildered Nam Jin-ju by the arm, and hurriedly left the dining hall.
Only Yeong-ju and I remained. I rubbed my throbbing shin and stared at her with complete incomprehension.
“Aigoo, tsk!”
Why is she clicking her tongue while looking at me like that? Did I do something wrong?