Apocalypse Shelter Administrator

Life in the Shelter for Women (1)

While Jinsoo and his special forces team ventured out into the outside world, the women who stayed behind in the shelter were enjoying a peaceful time.

"Prisoners, regardless of gender, must be rough by nature."

That’s the general perception, but it’s a misconception. Among them, there are many who are surprisingly gentle or timid to the point where you wonder how they ended up in such a place—like Park Yoojin, who is currently giving Nina a foot massage.

Unlike the declining population of South Korea, the number of inmates sharply increased to the point that, right before the infection crisis, prisons were overcrowded. This was due to the government’s implementation of severe punishments to restore order to a chaotic society, where crimes that once might have resulted in a warning or probation were met with absurdly heavy sentences.

Yoojin was sentenced to three years and was sent to the offshore prison as soon as she was admitted.

“My name is Park Yoojin. I’m serving a three-year sentence, and I used to work as a masseuse outside.”

This was her introduction when she first entered the women's prison on land.

“A massage? Hey, give my back a rub now that you're here.”

Nina, a brown-haired beauty of Eastern European descent, sat against the wall with a peculiar smile. She appeared to be in her early-to-mid twenties and had a few bruises on her face, though they didn’t detract from her looks. In fact, most of the other women in the room looked worse than she did, so it wasn’t too noticeable.

Later, Yoojin learned that Nina had only arrived a week earlier than she had. Nina had gotten into a fight with another woman outside, and though she received a punch, she returned it twentyfold, earning herself a ticket to prison. And by twentyfold, it wasn’t just a matter of punch count—taking into account the power of her strikes, it was more like fortyfold. She was a Muay Thai practitioner.

There was no way for her to claim self-defense.

It only took two days for Nina to go from the newest inmate to the room leader. After a fight broke out and she demonstrated her dominance, even women over ten years older didn’t dare challenge her anymore. Timid Yoojin, from that day forward, became Nina’s personal masseuse.

For someone like Yoojin, who was born weak and lived as easy prey in human relationships, adapting to life in this shelter wasn’t difficult. It was certainly better than her previous life in the offshore prison.

She still shuddered at the memory of gathering rainwater in a barrel in that place, only to have it taken away by a stronger inmate before she could drink a single sip. She also remembered scaling the walls of the building with trembling limbs to drink stagnant water collected on the roof tiles due to unbearable thirst. The experience was nightmarish.

Unable to wash properly, her skin had cracked, and when she urinated, the stench from her genitals was more pungent than the urine itself. Chronic itching left her skin red and inflamed, and the hunger gnawed at her even more than the itching.

But everything was different once she arrived at this shelter. The food was delicious, clean water was readily available, and incredibly, she could take hot baths every day with no time restrictions.

There was less tension and violence among the prisoners compared to a conventional prison, and being under Nina’s protection, Yoojin didn’t have to worry about those aspects either.

Press Press

Yoojin’s thumb pressed firmly into the Yongcheon point on Nina’s foot and held for two seconds. Deep wrinkles formed on Nina’s pale sole as the pressure displaced the blood pooled there, sending it into the surrounding cells and muscles.

This was the ebb of circulation. When Yoojin released the pressure, the blood returned, nourishing Nina’s muscles and cells once again.

This was the flow of circulation. Like the land after the Nile's floodwaters receded, the nutrients and red blood cells left behind made Nina’s foot even healthier.

Nina’s sole turned bright red from the powerful massage. Most women would have been in pain by now, but Nina hummed contentedly with her eyes closed, showing no sign of discomfort.

“It’s nice that there are no bars here, right?”

Another woman spoke from beside Yoojin, who was engrossed in the massage. Indeed, the absence of metal bars was a relief.

While there could be many causes for prisoners developing mental illness, there was no doubt that the oppressive environment of metal bars played a significant role. However, here, everything was open. Though the shelter was fenced, within its grounds, there was complete freedom. In the midst of a global catastrophe, they had a safe haven with food, shelter, and clothing. Yoojin was content with her current life.

"Uuuhh…"

Meanwhile, some women wept uncontrollably. Now that their basic needs for survival were met, thoughts of the family they had left behind began to flood in. Watching the external footage provided by the city offered no sliver of hope.

The women with strong mental fortitude thanked their luck for being able to live a relatively decent life in safety, but not everyone could cope so easily. For some, once they started crying, the tears wouldn’t stop for two or three days. Unfortunately, these women didn’t receive much sympathy.

"Why are they crying so much when they’ve got food and warmth?"

Nina, who had been enjoying her foot massage on the heated floor with a content expression as if she were in heaven, suddenly stood up.

Thud Thud Thud

Her brown hair fluttered as she ran, resembling a lioness on the hunt. Soon after, the sound of blows and cries rang out, followed by silence.

"Pfft, that bitch…"

Someone muttered a curse at Nina, but surprisingly, few echoed the sentiment. The women who shared the dorm were a mix of awed and intimidated by Nina’s rough and inconsiderate behavior, but at the same time, they looked forward to a quiet night of sleep.

While Nina didn’t act out for everyone’s sake, she was always the one to take charge when there was a problem. Though occasionally, she would even turn on her own allies. Nina’s charisma and leadership had been built from moments like these. Despite her brashness, the women had come to accept her as their leader.

This was the reality of life for the women who were gradually adjusting to life in the underground city. In terms of food and shelter, the shelter far surpassed any prison, and with so many orphans, estranged individuals, and those with a "as long as it’s not me" mentality, adaptation came swiftly.

"Shit, my biggest regret is not getting to see that old geezer die. My wish was to spit on his grave at the funeral."

Even among those who had families, there were plenty of women with the attitude of "why should I care?"

At this time of day, they would normally be doing labor assigned under the guise of vocational training. However, since they had been taken in so suddenly, it seemed even the higher-ups were too disorganized to enforce anything.

“Man, this place is fancy.” A woman who looked to be in her late 30s spoke, and the others around her nodded in agreement, murmuring, “Yeah, it really is.”

From certain areas of the shelter, they could catch glimpses of the VIP residential area high up in the distance, making it a noteworthy sight.

The internal screens informed them that those who were particularly well-behaved, showed exceptional productivity, or achieved outstanding results in upcoming events could be rewarded with a short vacation in the VIP area.

The scenes from the video were nothing short of dazzling. It was a place that condensed all the pleasures and luxuries only a few people could afford, even when the world was still functioning normally. Meanwhile, there were others discussing more practical matters.

“Did you hear? They say we might be sent to a factory.”

“A factory? There?”

One of the women in the group asked as she pointed toward the industrial complex in the central region.

“The facilities look good,” another woman who had previously worked in a factory remarked.

“I’ve never worked in a factory.”

“There won’t be accidents where people lose fingers or anything, right?”

Conversations about the type of labor they might be assigned to were a common topic among the women these days.

“Please, anywhere but the laundry.” One woman lay on the floor, hands clasped in desperate prayer.

“Why the laundry?” A fellow inmate she had become close to in the shelter asked.

“Out of all the jobs in prison, laundry is by far the worst. Sure, now it doesn't matter that it’s useless in society, but the job itself is just too hard. The laundry that comes into the workshop is always soaked in something.” The praying woman covered her face, recalling her past experience.

“If it’s from a restaurant, it’s grease and cream. If it’s from a hospital, it’s sweat and all kinds of bodily fluids. And if it’s from a motel, it’s covered in whatever those bastards did. By the time it reaches us, it’s fermented!”

She remembered her first day in the prison laundry, when she had to carry a huge pile of hospital bed sheets, only to vomit from the stench rising from them.

“Your sweat drips like rain, you risk burns from the steam if you’re not careful, and the detergent powder and dust from the laundry make you cough year-round. I even saw a woman get pneumonia working there. Seriously, I’d take anything, just please, not the laundry…” She shook, hands clasped in fervent prayer.

“But this isn’t prison, right? That guy on the broadcast said he doesn’t really see us as prisoners.” Another woman chimed in.

Everyone remembered certain lines from the man in charge of the city, who had spoken to them via broadcast. He had made it clear that he didn’t plan to treat the women as prisoners.

The informational screens scattered throughout the city displayed its history, the cityscape, and introduced each area. Watching them inevitably led to learning about the man who ruled the city—Seo Jinsoo.

His face was at the very top of the organizational chart. Beneath him were titles, but all their picture slots were empty, making him the only one whose face was displayed. In the video about the city's history, footage showed him overseeing the construction of the shelter, directing workers, and setting up systems.

But the highlight came afterward. The scenes of him single-handedly fighting off monsters and restoring the city after the infection outbreak were nothing short of epic. Although the footage was strategically edited by the city’s administration for propaganda purposes, it wasn’t a lie.

In tough times, a strong leader becomes a pillar of support for the people. The video of Jinsoo saving the city ingrained both respect and a sense of authority in the women more effectively than any indoctrination ever could.

The same applied to Jinsoo’s security forces. The weaker women, scarred by the brutal survival-of-the-fittest life in the prison, and those who had witnessed the horrors of the outside world felt both oppressed and reassured by the sight of the robotic security forces patrolling the city.

Oppression, after all, carried with it the bare minimum of protection. You had to stay alive to even feel oppressed. It was a pathetic comfort, like scraping off the rice stuck to your cheek after being slapped with a rice paddle and eating it—but nobody complained.

That’s survival in this era.