We were directed to a damp, concrete alcove near the edge of the residential tracks—a "premium" spot, according to the nervous clerk, simply because it sat twenty yards closer to a battery-powered lantern than the tattered tents of the other survivors.
Minsoo sat down heavily against the cold wall, her fingers still twitching near her daggers. "That man... Woojin. The moment he spoke, it felt like my own head wasn't mine anymore. If you hadn't stepped in, I would have handed him my weapons."
"Keep your mental guard up at all times," I warned her in a low whisper, scanning the perimeter. "He doesn't rule through strength. He rules through compliance. And right now, he's running a massive scam."
Yoon Sul was quietly staring at his Gamer interface, his eyes darting across his screen. "Hyung, my interface is registering eighty-two players in this immediate junction. But look at their average levels. Except for Woojin's inner circle of guards, almost everyone here is still Level 1 or 2. It doesn't make sense. It's day five of the tutorial. Even passive hunting should have gotten them further."
It makes perfect sense when you realize Woojin is draining them dry," I said coldly.
I leaned back against the concrete pillar, my mind racing. By forcing every survivor to hand over fifty system points just to sleep under guard, Woojin wasn't just taxing them; he was actively stealing their growth. Without those points, these people couldn't buy low-tier skill books from the system shop, upgrade their basic stats, or purchase standard iron rations. They were trapped in a vicious cycle: too weak to hunt outside, forced to stay in the shelter, and forced to give up what little they had to the Smiling Devil.
But as I looked around at the massive crowd huddled under tattered blankets, a specific memory from my past life flickered into focus. A cold smile touched my lips as I remembered the hidden mechanics of the early system era.
The next quest.
The system was an absolute entity, and it loathed stagnation. It didn't create the tutorial zones to act as cozy sanctuaries; it created them to cull the weak and forge apex predators. There was a hidden, algorithmic rule hardcoded into the world logic: whenever a large crowd of players gathered in a single localized coordinate for more than forty-eight hours without clearing a major milestone, the system's task difficulty would scale exponentially.
The next quest.
The system was an absolute entity, and it loathed stagnation. It didn't create the tutorial zones to act as cozy sanctuaries; it created them to cull the weak and forge apex predators. There was a hidden, algorithmic rule hardcoded into the world logic: whenever a large crowd of players gathered in a single localized coordinate for more than forty-eight hours without clearing a major milestone, the system's task difficulty would scale exponentially.
It was a forced-migration mechanic. The system would register Sector 4-B not as a peaceful shelter, but as a dense cluster of stagnant points. Within the next twelve hours, a sudden, brutal Emergency Quest would trigger, scaling its difficulty directly to the number of souls trapped down here. Eighty-two people meant the incoming wave of monsters wouldn't just be a localized pack of goblins—it would be a localized catastrophe.
Woojin thought he was building a kingdom of sheep to harvest. In reality, he had built a massive, glowing target for the system's wrath.
And I can use this to my absolute advantage.
If the difficulty spiked, Woojin's weak physical stats would make him highly vulnerable if his human shield crumbled. More importantly, the desperate survivors would suddenly find themselves completely unprepared for a high-tier siege because they lacked stats and gear. They would need a miracle. They would need a way to survive.
And to survive, they needed stamina, health regeneration, and energy.
I closed my eyes and opened my inventory interface. Row after row of pristine, high-calorie food supplies, clean bottled water, and nutrient bars filled my digital slots—supplies I had intelligently hoarded right at the very beginning of the tutorial phase when everyone else was panicking or chasing cheap copper weapons.
I closed my eyes and opened my inventory interface. Row after row of pristine, high-calorie food supplies, clean bottled water, and nutrient bars filled my digital slots—supplies I had intelligently hoarded right at the very beginning of the tutorial phase when everyone else was panicking or chasing cheap copper weapons.
Right now, food in Sector 4-B was heavily rationed by Woojin's men. The survivors were gaunt, starving, and willing to do anything for a decent meal. If I sold these supplies now, I could bypass Woojin's monopoly entirely, directly bleeding away the system points the survivors were hiding from him, and turning myself into the ultimate lifeline before the system's hammer fell.
Minsoo looked confused. "Trading? With what? We paid our entry fee."
"We aren't buying," I said, a dangerous glint appearing in my eyes as I pulled a massive crate of vacuum-sealed beef jerky, high-grade protein bars, and clean mineral water bottles from my spatial inventory, letting them thud loudly onto the concrete floor. "We're selling."
The sudden, clean scent of preserved meat and the pristine glint of plastic wrappers instantly drew the attention of nearby survivors. Necks snapped in our direction. Sunken, hollow eyes widened with desperate, primal hunger.
I stepped into the center of the walkway, completely ignoring the armed guards stationed on top of the train cars.
Listen up!" I announced, my voice echoing clearly across the vaulted ceilings of the underground junction, cutting through the murmurs of the crowd. "For the next one hour only, I am opening a private trading post. I have high-grade, stamina-restoring food supplies and clean water. No rations, no mold, no tiny portions."
I lifted a thick pack of nutrient-rich beef jerky into the air.
"Fifty system points per pack. Twenty points per bottle of clean water. If you want the energy to actually survive the night without begging for scraps, step up now. First come, first served!"
The entire section went dead silent for a heartbeat. Then, a massive wave of movement rippled through the eighty-man crowd as desperate survivors began to scramble toward our alcove, completely catching Woojin's observers off guard.
"Hey, get back! Stay in your designated grids!" one of the perimeter guards shouted, his makeshift spear wavering as a dozen hungry civilians bypassed him completely.
A gaunt young man reached our table first, his hands trembling as he pulled up his digital interface. "I'll take a pack of jerky and two bottles of water! Please! I have ninety points left, I'll transfer them right now!"
Transaction approved," I said smoothly, tapping my own interface as the glowing digits transferred over. I handed him the fresh, vacuum-sealed package. The moment his fingers wrapped around the food, he tore it open like a feral animal, shoving a handful of dried meat into his mouth.
"Oh god, it's real," he muttered through a full mouth. "It's actual food. It's not the mush they give us..."
"Move aside, my turn!" a middle-aged woman hissed, pushing her way forward. "I have two children, I need three bars and three waters!"
Within minutes, a chaotic, shouting crowd had converged entirely on our alcove. The points were rolling in rapidly, my digital counter ticking upward with every passing second. Fifty, one hundred, two hundred, five hundred... I was siphoning the hidden reserves that these people had desperately hidden from Woojin's steep entrance taxes.
Before the frenzy could fully consume the room, the thick iron door at the back of the station groaned open.
The heavy, rhythmic footsteps of four armed guards echoed down the concrete stairs, and right in the center of them walked Woojin. The crowd instinctively parted for him, the sheer psychological conditioning of his presence causing several survivors to lower their heads in shame, as if they had been caught stealing.
Woojin looked at the massive crate of food, then up at me, his signature warm smile firmly plastered across his face. But the air around him hummed with an aggressive, suffocating spike of mana.
My, my," Woojin said, his voice smooth and projecting perfectly across the quieted room. "What a wonderful surprise. I had no idea our new guests were blessed with such an abundant bounty. But friend... I must say, my heart aches looking at this scene."
He turned his gaze toward the hungry crowd, his eyes filling with a flawless, fabricated pity.
"Look at these poor people," Woojin sighed, his voice dripping with faux-benevolence. "They have lost their homes, their families, and their dignity to this cruel system. We are all survivors trapped in the same nightmare. And yet, you walk in here and exploit their desperation? Charging fifty points for a single pack of food? Points they need to survive?"
The survivors in the crowd shifted on their feet. The mental threads of Woojin's [Whisper of the Subconscious] began to weave through the air, subtly twisting their thoughts, amplifying their resentment. Yes, the invisible whisper told them. The smiling man is right. The newcomer is greedy. The newcomer is a villain.
"Shameful," a man in the crowd muttered, his eyes growing clouded. "We're starving, and he's hoarding it all for points."
Woojin took another step forward, his hands open wide in a gesture of pure selflessness. "If we truly wish to remain human in this new world, we must share. We must support one another without greed. Friend, as the administrator of this shelter, I ask you to do the right thing. Hand over this food. Let us distribute it to everyone here for free. Let us show them that humanity hasn't perished."
The crowd erupted into murmurs of enthusiastic agreement. "Free! Yes, give it to us! Hand it over!"
They were turning on me. Under the heavy influence of Woojin's psychological manipulation, the crowd was transforming into a righteous mob, ready to demand my supplies by force if necessary. Minsoo's hand gripped the hilt of her dagger, her eyes darting to the guards who were slowly raising their shotguns.
I didn't flinch. Instead, I let out a loud, mocking laugh that cut through the crowd's chanting like a blade.
Give it for free?" I asked, my voice cold, sharp, and entirely unbothered by the pressure. I picked up a bottle of water, tossing it lightly in my hand before slamming it back onto the crate. "Tell me, Woojin—why should I give it for free?"
I turned my gaze over the crowd, my voice dropping into a harsh, grounding tone that forced the brainwashed civilians to face reality.
When the system first arrived and the sky tore open, where were all of you?" I asked, my eyes piercing through the front row of survivors. "You were running. You were hiding in corners, crying, and waiting for someone else to save you. But while you were panicking, I was moving. I risked my life to secure these supplies. I fought through hordes of mutated beasts, risked getting torn to pieces by high-tier monsters, and bled in the dark just to fill my inventory."
I took a step forward, completely breaking the peaceful atmosphere Woojin was trying to maintain.
Every single item in this crate represents a moment I chose to fight instead of hide. It represents the risk of my own death. So tell me, by what right do you stand there and demand I hand it over for free? Because you're hungry? Because you're desperate?"
I pointed a finger directly at Woojin.
"You talk about humanity and unity, Administrator, but you charge fifty points just for a spot on a cold floor. If you care so much about charity, why don't you give back the thousands of points you've extorted from these people since day one? Why don't you provide your guards' services for free?"
The crowd went utterly silent. The sheer logic of my words, backed by the raw authority in my voice, acted as a wedge, fracturing the smooth illusion of Woojin's mental control. A few survivors blinked, the fog clearing slightly as they realized the hypocrisy of a man who taxed them demanding charity from a stranger.
Woojin's smile remained fixed on his face, but his eyes turned completely pitch black with unadulterated malice. The mask was slipping, and he knew it.
"Fifty points for a pack of jerky, or twenty for water," I announced one last time, my voice echoing off the concrete. "I paid in blood to get these. If you want them, you pay in points. The shop is still open."
For a second, nobody moved. Then, the gaunt young man from before stepped forward again, shoving his way past Woojin's guards. "I don't care about the politics. Transferring fifty points. Give me another pack."
With the ice broken, the crowd surged forward once more, completely ignoring Woojin's presence as the primal urge to survive overcame the fading whispers of his skill. I smiled inwardly as the system points flooded my interface. Let Woojin plan his revenge. By the time the hidden emergency quest triggered, I would have all their points, and he would have a kingdom of starving sheep.