Reorganization (5) — The Hand of Salvation
The sun that had ruled the sky for so long finally slipped away, and night fell over Paradise.
Thankfully, there was no zombie wave or horde of variants here like the one in Guro District, nothing so massive it could only be expressed as a swarm outside the walls. The system seemed to exclude fully conquered zones from what was known as the Night of Seoul.
That did have the side effect of pre-believers like Lee Seonghun running around whooping and hollering without a clue what was happening, but it beat the alternative of having our movement and safety compromised. And besides, no one could say for sure what would happen if the sacred barrier and the Night of Seoul ever overlapped.
"You all may go and rest for the night. I have pressing matters to discuss with the Vice Cult Leader."
"Yes, Cult Leader."
I dismissed the vigilante members trailing behind me and shut the doors of the Holy Temple behind them.
Night had come, yet the temple was not dark at all. On the contrary, bright lamps struck the white floor and made the whole hall blaze even brighter.
She walked straight to the table without a hint of fatigue, and I asked her, "Did it really have to go that far?"
Everyone makes mistakes. It's part of being human. And those people weren't trained actors — they were ordinary civilians who'd been kept safe inside the Sanctuary. For them to keep wearing masks and performing their roles day after day while living among the pre-believers... that was a task of considerable difficulty.
If even one of them was exposed as a cult member, the pre-believers' revulsion toward the Salvation Cult would rocket off the charts. That much was obvious.
But then again, their fates were already sealed. No matter how much the pre-believers rejected the cult, they would inevitably become cultists themselves. Having been rescued by me from Guro District, it was practically destiny. The world outside was, quite literally, hell.
I could guarantee it. Even if I granted every last pre-believer their freedom and sent them out the door, not one day would pass before the whole lot of them came bawling back, pounding on the barrier. So why take on a risky gamble for people like that?
"What's with the sudden change of heart? Guilty conscience?"
She tilted her head, shuffling papers around.
"No, no — it's not that I was thinking something only Kang San would think—"
"Why does he suddenly come up?"
"Because that's exactly the kind of thought he'd have. A perfectly apt example, really."
I sat down and beckoned to her. Seong Gaeul heaved a deep sigh at the sight of me, then settled onto my lap. I savored the feel of her smooth rear against my thighs while sliding a hand down her leg, running my fingers along her thigh. I drank in the rasping texture of her stockings to my heart's content as I admired her profile.
So this is why people keep cats, huh?
The way she grumbled and complained and yet ultimately obeyed was strangely addictive. It was a different charm from Yoon Ayoung, who would play along with death itself if I told her to. Seong Gaeul glared at me with narrowed eyes.
"Why does it feel like our roles got swapped? This is the kind of thing women are supposed to do."
So she'd noticed I was testing the waters. I gave a light laugh and shrugged.
"I suppose it's just my nature."
"I really don't know what more proof you need."
What more, you ask? The day your emptiness is completely filled by me — the day I finally stop checking — that's when I'll have my answer.
I didn't bother saying any of that out loud. Time would settle the matter on its own. I could already see her inching forward, little by little, farther than she'd ever come before.
I traced slow circles on her thigh and changed the subject. "Back to business. Are you confident you won't get caught?"
"Yes. I've spent every waking hour since you left preparing for this."
"Impressive."
And it was impressive. And yet... why did I feel so uneasy? It was the feeling of a mother bird watching her chick take its first flight. Honestly — me, of all people, feeling like this. I was the one who handled every task there was to handle, barking orders about it, and yet here was something I couldn't touch or control, and it gnawed at me.
"Besides, failure doesn't matter."
"...Huh?"
She braced a hand carefully on my shoulder and asked, "What happens if one of the believers gets exposed?"
"What happens? An unfortunate thing happened, and we move on. That's it."
"Right. We patch the problems one by one as they surface. What we need is a system that grows the Salvation Cult firmly and steadily without you personally involved."
I nodded, meeting her calm, level gaze. Apparently the month without me had given her a lot to think about.
"You can't do everything yourself. That's not ruling — that's labor."
Fair point. I hadn't been building this religion with such obsessive intensity just to end up doing manual labor.
"We still have a mountain of problems left to solve. We're a newborn religion, and people's resistance to us is severe — far too severe. We need sweeping propaganda. Advertising. At the bare minimum, we need a friendly public face to soften that resistance."
I nodded along as she elaborated. She wasn't wrong. I distinctly remembered how a religion once made headlines when a Hollywood actor was revealed to be a believer. That single actor had given the faith massive exposure to the general public — and, more importantly, a thread of familiarity that dulled people's instinctive distrust.
An opinion leader. In this day and age, the media itself couldn't function — so what we needed, precisely speaking, was a beneficiary of media. Someone whose fame could do the persuading for us.
I was only thinking, and already the candidates were lining up in my head. A beloved MC. Top-tier actors. Or...
I shot up from my seat so abruptly the chair scraped back. Startled into standing with me, Seong Gaeul fired laser beams from her eyes, but I had no capacity left to react to them. Understanding crashed over my head like a wave, as if I'd just remembered something crucial I'd left behind.
The eternal heroines of the zombie apocalypse. The crowning jewel of the entire genre.
Idols.
"What if we form an idol group to promote the religion?"
"...You are genuinely the most cult-leader-like cult leader who ever lived."
Her grumbling didn't land at all. In my head, the faces of every top idol kept flickering and flashing. Professionals, trained and drilled and trained again, expressly engineered to capture the human heart. The modern era's definitive flowers blooming at the edge of a cliff.
"You son of a bitccccch!"
"Wh-what—?!"
Ignoring Seong Gaeul's alarm, I stared up at the ceiling.
"You system bastard, son of a bitch! Open the gates! Fuck! Opeeeeen the gaaaaates!"
How long was this son of a bitch planning to keep me suppressed? Fuck! It's not like I skipped Guro to go eat Gangnam instead! Are you telling me Guro District didn't have a single idol dorm or actress's penthouse?
"...I'm an idiot! Son of a bitch, the zombie apocalypse arrives and I forget the single most important thing! Fuck! Fuuuuuck!"
"...You said the protection period made it fine just a minute ago."
That was then. This is now.
"It's, it's fine. We just hit Gangnam District in three months. That's all."
She patted my shoulder awkwardly, trying to console me. I collapsed back into the chair like a man struck down by total burnout.
Han Guwon, you absolute moron. The guy who planned to march into Seoul the moment he got a brainwashing skill and build himself a celebrity harem — and he forgot? Fuck. Is this the ceiling of a former hikikomori? The moment I finally got power I fumbled around, and now I've missed the golden opportunity of a lifetime.
"...Couldn't eat what was handed to me."
"Ugh — would you stop with the filthy mouth and just look at this first."
A document thrust itself into my downward-staring field of vision. What now — had she built some kind of cult-leader factory again? I read the title at the top of the page she handed over.
"...The Hand of Salvation."
Knock, knock—
The knock rolled through the massive doors and echoed across the lobby.
"You called for me."
"Ah, come in, Vice Captain."
Creeeeak—
The door swung open at Seong Gaeul's answer. I looked to her at the sight of Kim Haeil framed in the doorway, and she read the question in my eyes.
"If we lack an opinion leader, then we simply raise a large number of fervent believers."
Fervent believers, huh.
On the first page of the Hand of Salvation document sat a single ID photograph. As I studied the face of a young woman who looked like a college student, Kim Haeil came to a stop before us.
"Cult Leader."
"Ah, if it isn't our Vice Captain! The man whose good name rings through the ranks, leading by example!"
"I only did what needed doing, Cult Leader."
Even as I clapped Kim Haeil on the shoulder, my eyes stayed fixed on the woman in the photograph. Who was she? It was a face I'd never seen among the believers.
Seong Gaeul gently reclaimed the photo, then gestured to Kim Haeil.
"Vice Captain Kim Haeil is the cornerstone of this Hand of Salvation project."
She held the ID photo of the young woman out to me again. "This woman's name is Seo Hyeyoung. She is the older sister of believer Seo Hyewon, who serves as an instructor at the Hanmaum Learning Center."
Ah — no wonder her face looked familiar.
At my acknowledging nod, she continued. "In the earliest days of the outbreak, Seo Hyeyoung was infected by the zombies that broke into her family's home. Her last words to her sister were: 'Hyewon, run. Now.'"
An older sister's tearful sacrifice for her younger sibling. There was no way Seong Gaeul had deduced this on her own — Seo Hyewon must have confessed it all herself. A wound and a burden that would never fade from her heart for as long as she lived.
The Hand of Salvation. Fervent believers. The ID photograph. Now, finally, I understood what she was building.
"The awakened Vice Captain Kim Haeil's skill is Pursuit. Vice Captain?"
"Yes."
Kim Haeil accepted the photograph Seong Gaeul handed him, then slowly fixed both eyes on Seo Hyeyoung's face. Pale white mana flickered in his gaze.
"Seo Hyeyoung is at Hyopyeong Apartment, 20 Saemal-ro, Yeonsu-gu, Incheon."
Pursuit — a skill that reveals the location of anyone whose face the user has confirmed. With each skill level, the pin would sharpen, narrowing down to finer and finer detail. And Seo Hyeyoung was already dead. Turned. Which meant Kim Haeil could locate zombies, too.
"Believer Seo Hyewon always carried her sister's photo in her wallet. Please turn to the next page, Cult Leader."
At her gesture, I flipped the document over. A long list of addresses — the homes of the believers we had rescued in Incheon. Beside each entry was a brief account of the family members they had lost to infection.
"The addresses of believers whose loved ones have no photographs, and the names of the families they lost."
Human beings are creatures hopelessly susceptible to atmosphere. I knew that truth in my bones, and all of recorded history proved it. Goebbels didn't plant actors in his rally crowds for nothing.
As the one seated at the head, the one who had to cry out to the congregation, I could not carry the mood of a hall alone. Sermons and speeches are completed by the applause and answering cries of those who listen. What I needed was fervent believers who would roar back and nod along to whatever I said. Fanatics who would take my every word, without a flicker of doubt, as the will of God.
And to them — the wound that remained. The hand that would erase the original sin they would otherwise carry, unforgiven, for the rest of their lives.
And that was why—
"...The Hand of Salvation."
"The believers will never forget your grace, Cult Leader — not even in death."
If one could not be saved, then we would simply make the many who could bear that weight instead. I snorted a laugh and nodded.
If our growth in Seoul was blocked, then we would simply grow in Incheon — our original home.
"Vice Captain."
"Yes, Cult Leader."
"Prepare to return to the Sanctuary at once. I will see you at the Gate of Salvation."
"At once, Cult Leader!"
Kim Haeil bowed and swept out of the temple. As the door clicked shut behind him, Seong Gaeul turned to me.
"You're not even going to rest before you start?"
"No reason to put the work off, is there? Tears of joy suit the faces of the Salvation Cult's believers far better than tears of grief."
She gazed blankly at the man staring down at the documents. At the man who had once addressed the crowds at the Learning Center — and at the man before her now.
Gods are not born. They are made.
The childish, half-formed notion she had once harbored was taking shape, sharpening, in the figure of this man. Han Guwon, who had quite literally given his body and soul to forge their—
"By the way, were there no idols living in Incheon?"
She clutched her throbbing temple and bowed her head.
"...You are so goddamn annoying."
"...Sowwy."