Hiding a House in the Apocalypse-Chapter 174.1: Transformation (1)
Even now, in Jeju, tens of thousands are crossing the sea by boat to the mainland at once.
If the old infrastructure had remained intact, they might’ve been able to absorb everyone. But when the government abandoned Incheon, the infrastructure the locals had desperately cobbled together for survival was torn apart.
Now, those people need to be relocated to New Seoul.
Though the need for heating has decreased, the electricity provided by the power plants already supports nearly a million people—and it’s still rising. That power is a crucial factor in calming public dissatisfaction.
Of course, those left behind on the mainland wouldn’t be fond of people from Jeju.
The Jeju government knows this well. That’s why they proposed a solution to the mainlanders.
An election.
The 7th Republic.
To herald what might be the birth of an entirely new state, the government has announced an election to choose 100 “New Citizen Committee” members to carry out the transition.
And why is this considered a gift to {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} the mainlanders? Because out of the 100 seats, a staggering 80 are allocated to mainland candidates.
Eighty out of a hundred—this effectively means the new government will move according to the will of the mainlanders.
Debates are flying around over what form the government should take—semi-presidential system, parliamentary system, or a modified presidential model—but already, several mainland figures who’ve formed their own factions are scrambling for committee seats.
The so-called Citizen Committee candidates who keep bothering me lately are precisely these types.
The problem is, while these pre-election maneuvers are underway, Jeju seems to have made a move of its own.
“This is exactly that.”
Hong Da-jeong, self-proclaimed internet expert and political analyst, voiced her opinion.
“Character assassination.”
According to this so-called political expert, in Korean politics there’s a strategy called “sinking your rival.”
It typically happens within the same party—when someone’s become too popular, too accomplished, and is about to take over the party, you dig up dirt or crimes and bury them before they can even compete.
It’s true—Woo Min-hee must be a thorn in the side of the power-hungry schemers coming from Jeju with talk of new committees.
Unlike the ragtag bunch of low-level Awakened who simply lucked into their powers, Woo Min-hee is an over-level-10 “alpha” Awakened and the third strongest following Kang Han-min and Na Hye-in. She’s earned a long list of combat accomplishments.
And unlike others from Jeju, she stayed on the mainland.
She might not have had any obvious exploits, but to those who remained, the fact that she also remained makes her inherently admirable. Most importantly, she led the effort to protect New Seoul during its most perilous days.
Politically and militarily.
So it seemed only natural that she’d soon be assigned an important role in the new government.
But early this morning, exposés erupted simultaneously across Viva! Apocalypse!, various message boards, posters, government TV and radio broadcasts, and newspapers—all about Woo Min-hee’s recent history and criminal accusations.
— Woo Min-hee, Was She Responsible for Illegal Human Experimentation on Children and Adolescents?
— The Truth About the Incheon Lab — Who Is Woo Min-hee?
— The 21st Century Unit 731 — The Dark Side of Woo Min-hee
— How Woo Min-hee Took Our Children From Their Parents and Turned Them Into Guinea Pigs
...
...
These weren’t isolated leaks. They were clearly crafted by professionals, and they blanketed every form of media like it was coordinated.
Even our forum showed signs of macro use.
It is true that Woo Min-hee was the director of the Incheon Lab.
It’s true many children who tested as Awakened-compatible died in her facility.
And it’s also true their corpses were examined for research purposes.
But can we really condemn her actions in this day and age?
She sent Awakened to Jeju who helped seal Rifts. That is a fact.
She played a crucial role in what might be humanity’s final desperate struggle for survival.
Granted, I should admit that I’m biased toward Woo Min-hee.
But I’m not trying to say she’s innocent.
She has her sins. But what she did—she had no choice.
People talk about inviolable moral absolutes, but when the entire species is teetering on the edge of extinction, is it really appropriate to apply rigid standards of “absolute values”?
It’s not a simple matter.
Even the greatest philosophers and sages couldn’t reach a quick conclusion.
“Still... even for someone like er Guy, this is gonna be hard to claw back from, no? Sure, Director Woo got popular after taking out that monster at the end, but to be honest, she barely stepped up when she was ‘in charge’ here. She didn’t even speak up when Kim Byeong-cheol was running the place like a military barracks.”
Hong Da-jeong pulled off her headphones, spun her chair around, and stared at me, Defender, and Cheon Young-jae.
“It’s not going to be easy.”
Bringing Cheon Young-jae here was entirely my decision.
I knew it was going to be as hard as making two cats that hate each other become best friends—but he’s one of us. Another school alumnus.
Seeing Woo Min-hee getting destroyed like this, I just wanted even one more person who might stand with her. It wasn’t a deeply thought-out decision.
And it’s not something I can fix alone. Maybe even one extra person might help.
Cheon Young-jae is smarter than he looks.
Sure enough, though it was an awkward meeting, he didn’t seem too displeased. He spoke calmly and clearly.
“They’re shaping public opinion first so they can bury her in the trial that’s coming soon.”
“I agree. The trial’ll just be for show.”
Though Defender and I practically cut ties after the incident in my territory, he didn’t show any obvious hostility either.
“In this country, mob justice has always ruled above the constitution. What we’re seeing now is how that’s made.”
I don’t necessarily agree—but in times like this, maybe he’s right.
“So it all comes down to public opinion.”
Hong Da-jeong nodded.
“They’re trying to bury Director Woo with this media wave. Even if the trial goes well, this kind of image stain will make it nearly impossible for her to recover.”
That really pissed me off.
I looked at them and asked,
“Didn’t everyone already know this?”
How many people left in Seoul didn’t know about the lab?
Any parent with a child was practically desperate to get their kid tested there.
Why?
Because they wanted to go to Jeju.
They were frantic to get out, even signing waivers that admitted their kid might die in the process.
I’ve taken the psychic aptitude test myself. It’s not something humans should have to go through.
You could die.
Being locked in a completely sealed metal tube like an MRI, subjected to unbearable mental strain for three hours—if even someone like me, a healthy adult, felt death brushing against me, imagine what it’s like for a child.
No one talked about it, but didn’t everyone already know children were dying in there?
Why is this suddenly a problem now? I don’t get it—and I don’t care to understand.
“Where are you going, Skelton?”
Hong Da-jeong asked.
As I threw on my coat, I answered,
“Na Hye-in.”
*
Na Hye-in was in Incheon.
She lived in a makeshift home made from several stacked shipping containers on a low hill overlooking a port swarming with people.
The streets I passed in the car were crowded.
Someone was giving a speech.
Probably another Citizen Committee candidate.
I didn’t care—but the sound made me lower the window without thinking.
Because—
“Baek Seung-hyun! Baek Seung-hyun! Baek Seung-hyun!”
“The man who came with a miracle! Baek Seung-hyun!”
“Milky-smooth skin, Baek Seung-hyun!”
They were chanting a name I knew.
I parked and looked toward the rally stage.
There he was.
Dongtanmom.
He stood at the podium holding hands with his wife and a now-grown child, giving a speech alongside his supporters.
“I was a hunter! But because I wasn’t an Awakened, I was forced to take off the uniform! But the real reason I gave it up was because—I can’t compromise with injustice!”
So this is what he’s been up to instead of posting online.
Well, Dongtanmom does have a faction.
He traveled aboard the Hope Fleet, recruiting not just Koreans, but Japanese, Thais, even Chinese—and returned aboard the very ship that exiled him to China.
He built connections that transcend school ties, regional ties, even blood—he’s got networks in the thousands.
So sure, it makes sense he’d join the political fray, where dogs and pigs all try to stake a claim.
And as Baek Seung-hyun himself would say—he’s a living witness to the pain of an era.
...
Politics might actually suit him.
After all, it’s the perfect career for those without a conscience.
I resumed driving toward Na Hye-in’s place.
She was staying in a third-floor rooftop room overlooking the sea.
As always, she was nothing like me.
She had a sensitivity and an eye for beauty I lacked entirely.
Despite limited means, she’d painted the room white, arranged artificial flowers, and decorated it with care I could never imitate.
“Yeah.”
She’d come to visit me a few times while I was bedridden.
We didn’t talk much.
Not openly, anyway.
Even if she doesn’t hold an official position, Na Hye-in is a savior on par with Kang Han-min. People watch her every move.
Even now, this meeting isn’t exactly private.
The moment I showed up at her door, the Jeju Committee must’ve known.
It might cause trouble for me—and for her too.
But I still want to protect Woo Min-hee.
She’s a precious junior to me. And to Na Hye-in, even more so.
“Min—Min-hee?”
When I brought it up, Na Hye-in looked startled at first, but then sighed with a bitter smile and bowed her head.
“So that’s why you came...”
“It’s the most urgent thing.”
“It is, but...”
Did she expect something else?
That vibe was unmistakable—but right now, Woo Min-hee is the priority.
“If this keeps up, she’ll go to prison. And if she’s lucky, that’s all. She might get dragged into something worse.”
“Worse?”
She asked like she didn’t know.
I didn’t want to say it, but I needed to hammer the danger home.
“...however unlikely, she might even end up executed.”
“That won’t happen.”
Na Hye-in shook her head with a lonely smile.
“What do you mean, it won’t?”
My voice rose.
It couldn’t be—but a sudden suspicion crept in: was she working with the Jeju Committee?
In the uneasy silence, she gazed at the sea and exhaled.
“Kang Han-min. He’ll want to send Min-hee to the frontlines.”
“...Kang Han-min?”
People only see what they want to see.
I told myself no, but as I got older, I’ve come to realize how ordinary my thinking really is.
Kang Han-min was the first person I suspected.
I figured he was behind this.
But I deliberately looked away.
I wanted to believe.
I wanted to believe that fire he showed me—that hatred—was real.
But I can’t help it.
Right now, within the Korean Peninsula, the only one with the realistic power, skill, and will to end the Rifts is Kang Han-min.
And yet—I also know this:
Even when you share fire, it doesn’t burn the same color.
Magnesium burns white. Mercury burns red.
Kang Han-min’s fire isn’t like mine. His has a darkness, maybe even a sickly brilliance.
...
What did he mean by Adam and Eve?
At the place where all particles gather, what is he planning?
He’s one step ahead of me in terms of vision. That’s why I stayed in Seoul—to watch that step.
But if his first step is already this filthy, this dark—what am I supposed to do?
I looked at Na Hye-in.
Her face was full of the same resignation I’d seen from so many on Jeju.
I know she’s tired.
I know what she’s been through.
But some people rise again even after despair.
“Are you not going to help Min-hee?”
I asked her.
Na Hye-in’s pupils wavered.
Her expression almost said, why would I?
As expected, she gave a strained smile and asked me:
“Park Gyu. Why are you so bent on helping Min-hee? She’s not even your direct junior. You weren’t especially close. You didn’t date or anything...”
I chuckled.
“She’s my internet friend.”
I saw the question mark appear in her eyes.
“...Internet friend?”
I nodded.
“Mini, open parenthesis, age 20, close parenthesis, and DreamyBoy Eom Chang—perfect tag team.”
I stood up.
There was nothing more to gain here.
Na Hye-in wasn’t going to move.
She was already at her limit—body and soul.
If anything, I should be the one apologizing.
“Sorry.”
I bowed to her.
“I never properly thanked you for saving the city.”
“...Professor.”
“No matter what anyone says, I think you’re better than Kang Han-min.”
I gave her a thumbs up and spoke her callsign.
“Alpha One.”
I heard her rise behind me, but I didn’t stop walking.
She’d done her part.
She’d inspired me.
...
Taptaptap
[ Would you like to change your nickname from Dr.Emiless to UmChang? ]
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Guess it’s time to begin.
Taptaptap
UmChang: Free Princess Min-hee!
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!
Chapter 174.1: Transformation (1)
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