Apocalypse Shelter Administrator

Management (3)

Two detention centers are located in an underground city. One is very large, while the other is small. They are positioned so closely that they could see each other's eye movements.

The large center, where the prisoners reside, has tall fences surrounding it and is under strict surveillance. The smaller center, where the guards live, has fences that are more like walls, and the only surveillance consists of cameras—no sentry guns or drones.

The rulers of the city clearly treated the two groups differently, and naturally, the group that received harsher treatment harbored resentment. However, they were in no position to directly confront those who discriminated against them. There were more than a few prisoners who had been beaten to a pulp to set an example after their arrival.

The fierce security robots did their job well. If you only ended up with bruises from a baton, you were considered lucky. Sometimes, prisoners were struck with riot shields like medieval knights, sent flying through the air. Though the wide shield surface spread out the impact, so nothing was broken, the force was so tremendous that breathing was difficult for several seconds.

Prisoners who directly touched the guards were mercilessly hit with shotguns. They were punished differently according to the severity of their crimes, with the first stage being hard labor. Dirty and difficult tasks, such as assisting with meals and cleaning toilets, were typical. If their crimes were worse, food restrictions were added.

Indeed, the rulers here had a cruel method of control through starvation. Bread without yeast, water, and vitamins. Even the toughest women would quickly become submissive after continuously eating the special solitary confinement meal.

Those who caused further trouble were dragged into solitary confinement. Some women were first sent to the clinic, but once their treatment was finished, they would inevitably be sent to solitary. Given the circumstances, it was clear who their resentment was aimed at.

“You filthy bitches!”

The prisoners hurled insults. The guards walked by with the attitude of “we avoid it not because we’re afraid, but because it’s disgusting.” They were far outnumbered, and after having been locked up for a while, they knew that anything they said would just earn them ridicule.

“What are they babbling about, those criminals?”

They merely grumbled softly. However, with plenty of free time and no labor assigned yet, the prisoners devoted all their energy to mocking the guards.

Once a person’s basic needs are met, they inevitably seek entertainment. Some, like Jisoo, put their effort into exercise or shared their skills from previous jobs to engage in talent-sharing activities. One former Pilates instructor even had over 50 students following her. It was a spectacle to see so many people posing in unison. However, not everyone pursued wholesome activities. Rumors spread that the guards were receiving better meals, further fueling the conflict.

“Hey, in the city video they showed last time, I saw your mom! She looked half-rotten!”

Eventually, even parents, who were likely deceased, were dragged into the insults. Just as the taunts became unbearable, a savior appeared.

“Hey, hey, quiet!”

“Why? We’re just getting to the fun part!”

“Shut up, you idiot!”

The woman who was slow to catch on had her mouth quickly covered by the others. They fell silent while nervously looking around. The malice and mischief on their faces instantly vanished.

“Is that him?” One of them said.

Following their gazes, four figures were entering the smaller detention center. A man in his thirties, young but experienced in appearance. Four security robots followed behind him while carrying shotguns. Even the guards in the small center were surprised by his appearance.

“Is that Seo Jinsoo?” The guards murmured. They, too, knew enough about the city’s history from their training materials to understand who he was.

This man was the city’s only official resident and its leader.

***

From the start, I had intended to meet the warden, Seyoung, separately. She wasn’t a prisoner, and with her competence, character, and administrative experience, she was the most trustworthy woman here. Passing the civil service exam at just 23 years old and serving as a correctional officer, there was no better choice for a right-hand person among the residents.

When I arrived at the small center where the guards resided, the first thing I noticed was the insults flying back and forth through the fences.

Clang— The gate to the detention center opened, and as I stepped inside, all eyes turned toward me, filled with surprise and curiosity.

Centered around a yard about 80 meters wide, there were makeshift barracks, a dining hall, and medical facilities. It resembled a military base in everything but the lack of mountains around it.

The only difference was the absence of buildings for communications or administrative tasks, making it much smaller in scale. And everywhere I looked, there were only women. Some were gathered in small groups, chatting in the yard, while others passed time by pulling weeds in the flowerbeds designed for mental health.

“Eek!” Women I passed by quickly stepped aside.

Curiosity.

Anticipation.

Fear.

A rare few, gratitude. It wasn’t hard to read their expressions as they looked at me.

I arrived at the building that had been specially assigned out of respect for Seyoung’s authority. As I approached the door, I could hear loud voices from inside. It sounded like several people were arguing. I paused and raised my right hand. The guards following me stopped in their tracks.

“How much longer do we have to stay here?” An older woman’s voice.

“They’re prisoners, and we’re guards! Why are we being treated the same?” Her voice was full of irritation.

“When you look outside, there are villas and even single houses near the shopping district. How long do we have to stay here? We don’t need to live here when there are better places.” Her words poured out like a machine gun, followed by murmurs of agreement.

“This is only temporary,” Seyoung’s voice responded.

“There’s time needed for the quarantine inspection to be completed, and the city needs time to prepare resources and administrative support after suddenly accepting 2,500 people. If we spread out into the residential areas, it’ll be hard to manage.”

“Isn’t it your job to solve that? You passed the civil service exam so young and act all high and mighty, but you’re just a failure!”

“I’ve never acted that way. I will relay your concerns to the manager. And please, don’t speak informally. I’m still your superior, regardless of age.”

Slap! It was the sound you hear in dramas sometimes.

“Hey, watch your eyes. Where do you think you’re glaring? Superior? Look at this girl, full of venom. You think you’re something special just because you’ve read some books?”

Sounds of a scuffle.

“Let go of me!” Seyoung’s shout. Jeering voices from the others. Weak attempts to stop them.

“So what if you’re the superior? You still want to play soldier at a time like this?”

Slap— Another sound of impact. There was no need to listen any further.

“Open it.”

Click— One of the guards hurriedly went ahead, opened the door, and signaled that it was safe.

I stepped inside. Seyoung sat on the floor, her sandal half off, looking even more pitiful. Standing before her was a woman who appeared to be in her 50s, surrounded by about a dozen other women. It had clearly been a heated confrontation.

"Hey, didn't I say no one should come in—" A woman, who had been looking back in annoyance, suddenly froze.

"Uh, sis, that person over there." A small woman who looked to be in her early twenties nudged the person next to her with her elbow.

"What, why are you—huh!"

And just like that, another one froze. From that point, one by one, they started looking this way and freezing up in the same manner. The random sounds of nervous breaths were a bonus.

Are these women all part of some comedy act?

"Why is everyone suddenly acting so… strange?"

A woman, who had been too flustered to notice, met my eyes, and her voice quickly grew smaller.

I looked at Seyoung. She wasn't in the disheveled state I had seen in the video; now cleaned up, she exuded an intellectual beauty. Moreover, she looked so young that if she were to wear a school uniform, I might mistake her for a high school student. Sitting pitifully on the floor, her cheeks swollen red, she stirred my protective instincts as a man.

"I think I understand the situation now."

The women flinched.

"Uh, sir. You're Mr. Seo Jinsoo, right?"

A woman in her fifties forced a smile as she spoke. It seemed she wasn't used to smiling, as her facial muscles visibly twitched.

"Everyone except the warden, get out."

I emphasized the word "warden."

[All except Lee Seyoung, exit immediately.]

[Administrator's authority command in progress. The principle of zero tolerance applies to this command. Move at once.]

Two robots remained to guard me, while two others, equipped with batons, waded into the group of women. Though they were called batons, they were new models designed by Artemis for use with robots, capable of shattering the head of a human-shaped infected with a single blow. Of course, they would adjust the force when hitting people.

The gathered women scattered in an instant. Some had their arms linked, but when they saw the robots approaching, they panicked and got into a comical struggle, one trying to shake the other off while the other held on tighter in confusion.

"Get out, get out! Hurry up and leave!"

A few quick-witted veterans led the way out, and the other women followed behind. Perhaps because of pride as the senior member or simply because of slow reactions, the woman in her fifties, was the last to leave the building.

"Excuse me. Sir, I mean, Administrator, hehe."

She approached me while rubbing her hands together.

"I have something I really need to tell you."

She was probably planning to advocate for the improvements Seyoung hadn’t managed to achieve herself. Whether it was for better living conditions or to strengthen her position among the guards, she had her reasons.

"Don't hit her. At her age, something would break."

[Understood.]

"What? Oh, no, wait—ahh!"

One of the security robots put away its baton and grabbed her left shoulder. With a large pull, it rotated her wrist about 120 degrees.

Thud! In an instant, she was lying face down on the floor, groaning in pain. In the robot’s other hand was a large zip tie, meant for binding rioters.

Rip— "Aaah!" With a scream of pain, her arms were pulled back to the brink of their limit and tied together.

"What are you doing?"

"Hurry, let's get out of here."

The women who had been staring blankly at the scene quickly snapped out of it when they noticed my gaze and hurried outside. The old woman, still bound by the robot, was dragged out as well.

She must have clearly seen the training videos on what happens when you disobey orders. Did she really believe she wouldn’t face forceful action just because she wasn’t a prisoner?

Seyoung watched the scene quietly. I picked up a sandal that had fallen nearby and approached her. I gently lifted her foot and helped her slip it back on. Her foot was soft but cold.

"Thank you."

"It’s nothing."

"I’ve always wanted to give that woman a good smack."

"…"

She seemed more grateful for me ejecting and binding that woman than for returning her sandal.

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