Apocalypse Shelter Administrator

Management (4)

I lifted Seyoung by placing my hands under her arms.

"You didn’t have to go this far." She said, sounding embarrassed.

"You’ve been through a lot."

"It’s probably because I’m not good enough to keep things under control."

"Bring me two ice packs." I ordered through the PDA to the ambulance waiting outside.

[Understood.]

A medical robot responded with its signature deep voice.

According to the new regulations set by Artemis, an ambulance is required to accompany me whenever I leave the VIP residential area.

"Yes. Still, walking barefoot wasn’t all that bad. It felt healthy, in a way."

Her toes, now in sandals, wiggled cutely. Until recently, her toenails had been grimy and covered in dirt, but now they were clean and pink.

"One day, I’ll invite you up there. There’s a park with a barefoot walking trail. I think you’ll love it."

It’s a beautiful trail with trees, grass, flowers, and flowing water wherever you look. The path has patches of moss and tree roots sticking out here and there, and walking barefoot on it feels incredibly refreshing. Just walking on it clears your lungs and mind. There’s even a foot massage path made of pebbles.

"The VIP area, huh. If I go there, the people here will probably hate me even more." Seyoung smiled bitterly.

"Judging by what happened earlier, it’s not like things could get much worse."

"That’s true."

I touched her cheek.

"That woman’s slap sure stung."

"I never expected she’d actually hit me."

Seyoung accepted my touch on her cheek naturally.

[It’s arrived.]

A security robot opened the door and handed two ice packs from the waiting drone outside.

"Hold this to your face."

"Thank you." She quietly accepted the ice pack.

"Are you having trouble maintaining control?"

"In situations like this, rank matters less than age and strength. It feels like I’m back in high school."

"I wanted to discuss more progressive ideas about management, but for now, it seems we need to restore order first."

I gestured to the robots standing by. "Bring the ladies. We need to accomplish what we came here for."

Soon, about 20 senior prison officers lined up in Seyoung’s office. I stood slightly elevated, behind a podium of sorts.

"Nice to meet you all."

All eyes focused on me.

"You should know who I am from the video training sessions. My name is Seo Jinsoo, the system administrator for this place. However, due to an unfortunate incident, I’m currently also holding all administrative roles in the city."

They understood well enough what it meant to hold all the administrative positions.

"First rule: submit to order. This doesn’t just mean following the city’s regulations—it also applies to the relationships within this small community."

I moved behind Seyoung and placed my hands on her shoulders. "Seyoung is still your representative and superior. Her authority must be respected. I won’t tolerate any more insubordination like what happened earlier. Any questions?"

A woman in her mid-to-late 30s raised her hand, and I gestured for her to speak.

"But the prison no longer exists, and neither does the government. Seyoung can’t represent us anymore. We want to elect a new leader." She spoke without hesitation, as if she had prepared for this.

"Whether or not someone can represent you is for me to decide."

My firm words made her flinch.

"The prison and the Korean government may be gone, but if you deny the positions and authority created at that time, I can simply assign you new roles within the city."

There were murmurs of discontent throughout the room.

"Any other questions?"

Another woman raised her hand, and I nodded, pointing at her.

"How long are we going to stay here? We can see the city outside the fence—there are large houses and it looks really nice."

This was probably the question that concerned them more than who represented them.

"I noticed cafes and places that look like a downtown area too."

Amid the murmurs, I heard things like, "Yeah, I want coffee," and, "I’d love a cup."

Carrying a warm, sweet coffee in a plastic cup on the way to work in the morning—such a simple thing was such an essential part of their everyday lives that, now that they saw even the possibility of getting that back, they couldn’t help but cling to it.

"And we’re way too close to the prison. We’re not like those people."

"Can you give us tampons? Washing these reusable pads every time is a pain."

"While we’re at it, can we get a washing machine? My hands hurt from doing laundry with bar soap in the shower room."

At some point, even women who hadn’t been given the floor started speaking up, creating chaos. I held up a hand to stop the security robots from intervening.

Some might think, ‘We saved their lives, and now they want everything,’ but personally, I understand where these women are coming from. They weren’t criminals, but they were sent to the offshore prison and forced to endure hardships they’d never experienced before. Of course, just because I understand doesn’t mean I intend to accommodate them.

"Have there been any communications from outside? Any groups of survivors?" The room quieted as one woman asked this. The others, who had been voicing their personal desires, likely began thinking of their families and friends.

"Unfortunately, there’s been no word from outside. There are isolated survivors far away, but no organized groups like ours have been found."

It was practically a death sentence for their families, but they seemed to have already come to terms with it. Their only reaction was to clamp their mouths shut.

"One more thing—we need to clear up a fundamental misunderstanding between us."

They looked at me, confused.

"You are not here as Korean prison officers or civilians. You are merely survivors of a disaster. The ship of the nation has sunk, and you’ve been picked up by this city like a cruise ship taking in castaways."

They still seemed confused.

"If you think our relationship is like that of a government handing out free ramen, blankets, and tents to flood victims, you’re gravely mistaken."

I glanced at Seyoung, who nodded slightly and mouthed the words, "I’ve told them several times."

But judging by her bitter smile, it hadn’t sunk in.

"Once the administrative preparations are finished, you, like the prisoners, will also be assigned labor. You’ll need to earn your keep in exchange for food, clothing, and shelter. This is a closed city, and the input-output cycle must continue. Extra resources may be tolerated, but there’s no place for extra people."

Several women started speaking up again, but as the security robots stomped their feet, the room went quiet.

"From now on, you must request permission to speak. Anyone who breaks this rule will be removed."

Three women raised their hands, and I pointed at one. She introduced herself as a prison lieutenant.

"We’ll be continuing our duties as prison officers, right?" she asked, gesturing in the direction of the larger prison.

"No, after all aptitude tests are completed, new jobs will be assigned. There are plenty of jobs: cleaning, cooking, farming, environmental management, factory work, and so on. Some of you might help the guards with their duties, but there won’t be many in that role."

"We’ve been doing guard work all this time. And now cleaning and factories?"

It wasn’t just her; most of the women murmured in agreement, their expressions showing they felt the same way. But from their expressions, it seemed they didn’t want to be guards because it was their area of expertise—they just didn’t want to do hard, dirty labor.

I know that look well from managing soldiers in the army. Some women stood with their arms crossed, appearing calm and tough. They seemed confident they’d be assigned to guard duty.

"Sorry, but you’ve lost your authority. Wasn’t it just the other day that you were stripped naked, locked behind bars, and begging prisoners for food? Do you really think there’s a prisoner who will be scared of you just because you put on a uniform and hold a baton now?"

Their faces filled with shame at my words. But what can they do? It’s the truth.

"Things were really bad back then. But here, we can at least…" The officer trailed off, unable to finish her sentence.

"At least what? You think you can be guards again here? That’s just saying you’ll rely on my authority and that of my security team to control the situation, right?"

"Yes…" Her voice grew quiet as I struck at the embarrassing truth.

"How effective do you think that kind of control will be? What I want is someone who doesn’t need to rely on anyone else to inspire fear. The aptitude test I mentioned includes a category for guards. There will be new physical tests and combat readiness evaluations. We’ll select strong women with real control."

Seyoung raised her hand at my response.

"Speak."

"To be honest, less than 20% of the former guards would pass those conditions. That won’t be nearly enough."

Some of the women glared at Seyoung for openly dismissing their capabilities, but she didn’t even flinch. Her attitude was focused on providing accurate information and reporting foreseeable problems, like the administrative official she was.

I’m curious what she was like back when she was a class president throughout her school years, as her record states.

"That’s fine. We’ll recruit prisoners to fill the shortage. There are plenty of tough women there, so we’ll easily meet the quota."

The women reacted with near screams at my answer.

"Prisoners? You mean you’re going to use criminals for law enforcement? Doesn’t that mean we could end up being controlled by prisoners?" The guard I had been speaking with earlier was now talking like the idea was unthinkable.

"And why would that be a problem?"

She seemed at a loss for words when I asked calmly.

"Don’t misunderstand. I’m not managing the prisoners and you separately with different surveillance methods because they’re criminals and you’re civilians. In my eyes, you’re all just refugees from a fallen nation. The only difference is your level of trustworthiness."

I heard a sigh from Seyoung beside me. No matter how you say it, it only has an effect when spoken by someone with power and authority.

"This isn’t a prison. South Korea doesn’t exist anymore either. There’s no reason to enforce the criminal records of a government that no longer exists. What I value is strength, skill, and a basic level of trust. Of course, I won’t put anyone with a history of drug use or fraud in a position of power."

Those kinds of people, regardless of ability, are completely untrustworthy.

"But if there’s a muscular prisoner who ended up here over a single assault charge, I’d gladly appoint her to the city’s law enforcement, as long as she follows my orders."

Whether they do their job properly or not can be monitored separately. It’s far better to have someone violent but with strong control under surveillance than someone nonviolent but too weak to maintain order. There are no human rights activists here, after all.

"This place is safe, but it’s not kind. If you think of it as an extension of what was once South Korea, things will get tough. Instead, consider yourselves lucky to have survived in a collapsed world by joining a military organization."

They finally seemed to understand how I viewed the new residents.

"You’ve all seen post-apocalyptic movies and dramas, right? Like Mad Max, Snowpiercer, or The Walking Dead. What kind of leaders typically run the shelters in those stories? I might not be as ruthless as them, but don’t think I’ll be any kinder." I paused to look around at everyone.

Fear.

Worry.

Anxiety.

Most of the emotions I sensed were negative. But there were exceptions.

Anticipation.

Admiration.

Excitement.

I could see some women showing positive emotions. They were the ones confident in their abilities.

"That’s all you need to know for now. You’ll learn the rest as you live here. Any other questions?"

The women kept silent, merely glancing at each other.

"Bravo 1, Bravo 2."

[Bravo 1 standing by.]

[Bravo 2 standing by.]

Two robots answered my call and stepped forward.

"From now on, assist Seyoung."

[Command received.]

"Seyoung."

"Yes." She responded.

"Until you receive specific orders, continue managing this place as you have been. These robots will be your bodyguards and assistants. Report any new issues during the regular meetings. I’m leaving this place entirely in your hands."

"Understood." She nodded slightly.

As I walked out of the building, not a single one of the assembled guards spoke a word. Their reaction was sufficient.

Do you know how the hierarchy and influence of women in military housing communities are determined? It’s quite simple. The husband's rank determines the wife’s influence. If her husband is a division commander, the wife acts like one too.

I once witnessed one of those gatherings, and despite everyone using formal language, the atmosphere was suffocating with the invisible hierarchy.

If I want to give Seyoung power? That’s easy. If I openly favor her and assign her some robots, everything will fall into place in no time. There might be some gossip behind her back, but no one will dare treat her poorly to her face.

I never expected Seyoung to use charisma to dominate the residents. I assigned her as an administrative official, not as someone to subdue the populace.

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