Rations and Revelation

I sent Kim Eunbyeol, freshly finished with her holy bath and mental conditioning, back to her son's side.

When she offered to see me through the aftermath as well, I had to tell her three separate times that I could manage on my own before she finally left the room with a look of lingering regret.

I had spent her night for her, so now it was only right to let her newly recovered son feel his mother's embrace again.

Khh— now THIS is a cult leader. This is what you call governing with an eye to the people's welfare.

Flexibility. Empathy. The wisdom of putting yourself in another's shoes.

Could it be that my true talent lay not in conquest, but in this kind of rulership?

At the height of my self-congratulation, I rolled around the wide bed in every direction. A strange drowsiness clung to my body and refused to leave. A body that had lived in dreamland every morning did not change its rhythm so easily.

So even after becoming superhuman, I'll never be a morning person.

Still, morning duties existed, and wake up I must. Every time I was tempted to slack off even a little, the memory of Seong Gaeul's contemptuous gaze automatically stabbed me in the chest.

Ah, thinking about that again gets me worked up.

I led my gradually stiffening member into a quick shower, and with the refreshing sensation still humming through me, draped a large white robe over my body. A length of white cotton wound generously around me and tied with a long knot at the waist — the moment I finished, I looked every inch a man of the cloth.

As comfortable as these robes were, the believer's garb sold at the Faith Shop would have been comfier, but a cult leader couldn't dress the same as his followers. When it came to establishing hierarchy and distinction, nothing mattered more than the visual.

With every preparation complete, I rubbed my palms together lightly and declared, "Now then, let's make today another day brimming with salvation!"

I walked slowly down the long marble corridor that greeted me the instant I opened my door. As I descended the central staircase floor by floor, the clatter of spoons and the laughter of believers grew louder.

The moment I stepped onto the first floor, chairs scraped back and the believers who'd laid eyes on me hurriedly rose to their feet.

"Cult Leader!"

"Hahaha, pay me no mind. Please, finish your meals."

Waving my hand to gently restrain the believers who were trying to bow, I filled a tray with rice and side dishes at the self-serve distribution counter.

The first time I'd found the Distribution Center in the facility menu, Seong Gaeul and I had high-fived like lunatics. Solving the entire food supply problem for just 5,000 Faith? This was the freest of free lunches.

But only after construction was complete did the system make me bitterly understand it wouldn't be so easy.

Son of a bitch. I had to pay Faith all over again to buy the actual food.

I racked my brain and designed meal plans like I'd been possessed by a school nutritionist, but...

The staggering Faith consumption left me no choice but to type out a furious protest. Rip-off — an absolute, fucking, triple-layered rip-off of Faith expenditure!

Granted, I admitted that paying for 30 whole days at once was bound to be expensive. And when I calmly considered how much Faith I generated in a single day, it wasn't exactly a losing deal either. But all the same — a tiny difference, a single syllable apart — the thought of paying it all in one lump sum had me practically frothing at the mouth.

And when it came to food and cooking, my all-purpose pocket, Gaeul-mong, was of zero help. That's right — this fiery-tempered woman knew even less about cooking than I did. She was a pampered rich girl who had never so much as touched a drop of water in the kitchen.

Yoon Ayoung, whom I'd turned to next with hope in my heart, just giggled hehehe and looked faintly away from my eyes. Watching my girls avert their gaze from me for the very first time, all I could do was sigh.

It wasn't as if I, a being who had to be perceived by the believers as transcendent, could go around asking, "Recommendations for cost-effective breakfast, lunch, and dinner menus, please!"

As my mind spun round and round, familiar images struck down on me like a flash of lightning. Nostalgic for the day the Distribution Center was first built, I loaded a tray with pickled radish. Moving to the next compartment, I added stir-fried sausage with vegetables and beef seaweed soup. Finally, after a serving of white rice and a packet of roasted seaweed, I looked down at the heaping tray.

A collective that had spent eons raising slaves and stockpiling every last trick of the trade. My venerable seniors, who had agonized over the very same problem before me. The Republic of Korea's military — with its instincts honed to perfection for meals ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠just barely generous enough that the conscripts wouldn't riot.

Like PTSD burned into me forever, I lovingly entered those hard-earned mess-hall rations of mine into the meal plan.

Behold this magnificent spectacle — saving a full 40,000 Faith on nothing remarkable whatsoever!

If this wasn't experience and wisdom, then what was?

In the crucible of emotion, there was only one thing I could shout.

Thank you, K-military!

Carrying the oddly mouthwatering tray, I scanned the long stretch of dining tables. Amid the believers chatting and laughing over their food, one sat quietly with his head bowed.

Thud—

With the sound of my tray meeting the table, Jeong Shinwoo raised his head. "Ah, Cult Leader. Good morning."

"Indeed it is, believer Jeong Shinwoo. Watching you pray so diligently at all times is truly a fine sight."

"Hahaha, hearing you say that fills me with embarrassment."

I studied him as I ate a sausage evenly coated in sauce — the bright light radiating from him, and the white link connecting him to me. Holding his spoon quietly, Shinwoo asked me cautiously, "Forgive my presumption, but... are you truly certain it's alright to dine alongside someone as lowly as I am...?"

"Hahaha, and why wouldn't it be? All of you who have become my people are my precious children. There is no parent in this world who shies away from eating with their son."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"Aaaaah— Cult Leader!"

Though it was a conversation between Shinwoo and me, my voice carried to every believer seated at the tables. Moved to tears, Shinwoo scrambled up from his seat. "I'll go seat the believers who haven't come out of their rooms yet!"

"Hahaha, no need. Every one of my believers has the freedom to eat whenever they wish. There's no urgent work waiting for those who eat quickly, is there?"

Hahaha—

At the small joke, the believers gathered in the Distribution Center burst into loud laughter. Shinwoo scratched his head sheepishly and sat back down with an embarrassed expression. "I apologize. I overstepped in presuming to grasp the depths of your intentions, Cult Leader."

"Now, enough heavy talk — let's eat first. The seaweed soup is wonderfully refreshing today."

"Yes, Cult Leader!"

Watching Shinwoo slowly resume his meal, I checked the minimap. Lee Gyeongmin, absent from this floor, was in his room, and Kim Eunbyeol, Park Himchan, and Shin Jihoon were likewise holed up in theirs. Seong Gaeul and Yoon Ayoung were eating separately on the third floor, in the officers' quarters.

There was no problem with me eating alongside the believers. But there was a problem with my women mingling among them. Seong Gaeul had pushed back, asking why it was even necessary, but on this issue I had no intention of bending my opinion either. Not that she'd ever dare anything — but the believers needed it drilled into them that these women were not to be approached carelessly. And the foundation for that was the very "mystique" that celebrities of the old world so often employed.

The door of the room where they ate apart from the believers was already being guarded by my loyal hunting dog, Seo Taesan.

"Is there anything you need for your daily life these days?"

"Ah — you have already given us far more than we could ever repay, even in death. How could I possibly dare to ask for..."

"Tsk, tsk — 'even in death'?! Have I not told you at every prayer hour!"

"F-forgive me. M-my, my slip of the tongue is just a bad habit."

"To spout relics of a bygone era in this new world!"

At the booming voice, Shinwoo hastily bowed his head. As chairs scraped and I rose to my feet, I called out to the believers. "My children—"

At the voice brimming with holy spirit, the believers set down their spoons and clasped their hands together. Arms spread wide toward those who stood ready to heed my every word, I spoke.

"Do you fear death?"

"N-no, we do nooot!"

In Shinwoo's rushed reply, I could see the desperate eagerness of a man trying to redeem his earlier blunder. I didn't answer quickly — instead, with a benevolent smile, I met each and every pair of eyes in turn.

"And why should you not fear it? Death is something that must always be feared."

One single axiom that had not changed even now, in the 21st century, in an age where superpowered beings had appeared.

All humans must one day surely die.

And no one could say with certainty what would be waiting for them at that end.

"Death has always been shrouded in the unknown. The unknown bred fear, and that fear served as the great engine driving every religion in history."

Humans have always prepared for the future. Great or small, preparing for what comes after death was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the natural ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠instinct of any human being.

"Some, to enter heaven! Some, to ascend to paradise! Still others, for the slaves they will one day claim in the kingdom of heaven! They have always offered something of themselves — something alive and present — to their religions!"

There was nothing wrong with that in itself. Except—

"But now, death is no longer an unknown."

My finger pointed at the zombies beyond the Sanctuary's barrier.

"The most easily understood form of your death — there it stands, plain before your eyes!"

The end of death, once all illusion had been stripped away, was in truth more brutal than anyone had imagined.

"So I ask you once more. Now that the veil of the unknown has been lifted — do you still not fear death?"

"Nooo, we dooo nooot—!"

To the wailing believers, I spoke again. "That's right! Because the end is fixed, there are things that terrify us all the more! So what do we do now? Will you keep selling your present selves for the sake of death?"

No, never—!

"Did you pray to your gods for future blessings only so you could become zombies!"

No! Never—!

"Fear death! The children I love are not hollow shells of souls bound for heaven — you are my children, here and now, praying at my side this very moment!"

I laid my hand on the head of Jeong Shinwoo, right there before me. As if jolted by a bolt of electricity, his whole body shuddered.

"Aaaaaaaah, Cult Leader!"

One by one, the believers began crawling on their knees toward me. I was a dot stamped in the very center of the fanatics' circle — and that dot clenched its fist and roared.

"Then what must you do! Not the past, not the future! What courage do you need to make the present you happy!"

My finger pointed outward once more. Following it, every gaze in the room snapped toward the world outside in an instant.

"Is killing those swarming zombies one at a time, with backbreaking effort, what you call courage? That is nothing but the pettiest, most insignificant self-conceit!"

The mockery and contempt brimming in my great voice struck the believers directly, full force. And in my grip, Shinwoo — still trembling — shouted with a face radiant with joy. His eyes overflowed with ecstasy and revelation.

"W-we must pray! We must pray to the Cult Leader!"

"That is the greatest courage of all!"

"Aaaaaaaah—!"

When I gave his head a slight push, Shinwoo collapsed to the floor and convulsed softly. As if gripped by orgasm, his pupils rolled upward as he let out cries of bliss.

At the sight, one of the elderly believers I'd rescued from the department store seized my leg and screamed, "Believe only in the Cult Leadeeeeeeer! Rely on hiiiim!"

"That too is the greatest of all courages!"

The old believer likewise collapsed under my touch and began trembling with rapture.

Aaaaaaaah—!

"Cult Leader! Cult Leeeeeadeeer!"

"I know that the hearts of every one of you are no different! That is the One Heart of which I speak!"

A faint touch of telekinesis stirred atop the heads of all who surrounded me. Watching them collapse in unison and writhe across the floor, I shouted as if to carve it into their souls.

"By embracing the truth alone, you are my eternal warriors! Submit completely and pray! For this place alone is your true paradise!"

The reason I had deliberately seized on Shinwoo's slip of the tongue and dressed him down so grandly was simple: I needed today's quota of mental conditioning. What I required at this moment was nothing more than obedient servants content with small things — and capable of praying over those small things all day long.

"May the Hanmaum Guwon Cult endure forever!"

"Aaaaah! Aaaaaaaaaaah!"

I smiled as I watched the believers convulse in unison from a mere flick of my hand against their heads.

It looked like I wouldn't need to run a separate mental conditioning session in the prayer room today.