12:15 PM. Day 16.
The generator hummed behind the sealed door of the storage room. Diesel engine, steady and low, feeding power to the space heaters in every room. Jae-min had stocked the storage room during the prep days — enough diesel to run for weeks, water tanks, a portable generator, and backup fuel cans packed tight against the walls. The room had been big enough for all of it. No modifications. No tearing out walls or cabinets. Just a four-bedroom condo unit filled with everything a frozen apocalypse demanded.
Unit 1418. Shore Residence 3, Building B. Fourteenth floor.
Home.
The other survivors were spread across the fourteenth floor. Jae-min had cleared three neighboring units before the freeze and connected them to the generator through junction boxes he'd pulled from the logistics hub. Forty-three people in total, distributed through those units, each one with a heater and a door that locked. They were fed, sheltered, and alive.
The bunker held six.
Jae-min sat on the edge of the bed in the master bedroom. The mattress was thin, military-grade foam he'd stored months ago. Alessia was beside him, back against the headboard, legs stretched out under a thermal blanket. She was weak — grey skin, tremor in her fingers, the slow, deliberate way she moved, as if her body was negotiating with every muscle before committing to motion.
Through the wall, in the bedroom next door, Ji-yoo lay in her own bed.
It was her room. Had been since before the apocalypse. She'd taken it because driving back and forth to Cavite after band gigs was exhausting, and crashing at the condo was easier than a two-hour commute in Manila traffic. The room still had her things — a guitar stand in the corner, a poster on the wall, a half-empty glass of water on the nightstand that had frozen solid three days into the freeze and never thawed.
Now she was in that bed, and the glass was still frozen, and she wasn't getting up.
Her breathing was audible through the wall. Thin. Irregular. Every four seconds, sometimes five. Jae-min was counting without meaning to.
In the guestroom across the hall, Uncle sat on the edge of a foldout cot with his rifle across his knees. He hadn't slept. His face was carved with lines that hadn't been there that morning, his hands carrying the fine tremor of a body that had been running on adrenaline so long it had forgotten what rest felt like. But his eyes were still moving — the door, the window covers, the hallway. Watching. Even hollow, he couldn't stop.
Jennifer and Yue shared the second guestroom. Jennifer was on the floor, back against the wall, eyes closed. Not asleep — her breathing was too shallow, her body too tense — but she'd shut down everything except the bare minimum. The mind link during the Archbishop fight had nearly killed her. The aftermath was visible in the dried blood at her nostrils and the grey, hollow look of a brain running on fumes.
Yue was on the cot. Her injured arm was in a makeshift sling — torn strip of thermal blanket tied around her neck and wrist. The field relocation during the assault had been crude, and the shoulder had swollen into a discolored wedge that throbbed with every heartbeat. She was staring at the ceiling, scanner dead on the nightstand beside her.
The living room was empty. The kitchen was empty, still a kitchen — counters intact, stove cold, refrigerator a block of ice. The common bathroom sat between the bedrooms, door open, heater running.
The unit smelled like diesel fumes leaking from the storage room, body odor, and the faint chemical tang of heater coils warming frozen air. It was the best thing Jae-min had smelled in days.
He reached into the void. The cold inside was brutal — weeks of −70°C had turned the storage space into a frozen vault. His fingers searched through darkness until they found the MRE case. He pulled it out slowly. Frost-covered, solid. Tore the seal with his teeth and passed the first pack to Alessia.
She took it. Pressed it under the thermal blanket. Ten minutes to soften. She passed the next to him.
He stood. Walked to Uncle's guestroom.
"Food."
Uncle took the pack without a word. Tucked it under his coat. Jae-min moved to the second guestroom. Opened the door. Placed an open MRE pack in Jennifer's lap. She ate by feel, fingers finding each item without opening her eyes.
He set a pack on the cot beside Yue. She reached for it with her good hand. Opened it one-handed.
Back in the master bedroom, he pulled a second case from the void. Water purification tablets. A collapsible container. He filled it at the kitchen tap — the pipes were frozen except for the backup line from the water tank in the storage room. The water came out cold and tasted like metal. He dropped in two tablets. Set it on the counter to purify.
The food took twelve minutes. Cold but soft. Beef stew. Crackers. Apple jelly that tasted like chemicals. He ate every bite.
Alessia ate beside him. Slowly. Quietly.
Through the wall, Ji-yoo's breathing held. Four seconds. Three. Four. Five. Four.
Alessia set her empty pack aside. Her eyes moved to the wall separating the master bedroom from Ji-yoo's room.
"The intervals are getting longer."
"I know."
"She needs the full triad."
"I know."
Jae-min stood. Crossed the hallway. Opened Ji-yoo's door.
The cold hit him first. Her heater was running, but the window seal had cracked during the assault, and a thin draft was leaking through the frame. He'd need to fix that. Later.
Ji-yoo lay on her back in her own bed. The sheets were the same ones she'd changed two weeks ago. The guitar in the corner was the same one she'd played at her last gig. The poster on the wall — a faded print of a Korean indie band — was curling at the edges from moisture that had frozen and thawed and frozen again.
She looked small in the bed. Her face was wax-pale, lips slightly parted, chest rising and falling with the thin, reluctant rhythm of a body negotiating with every breath whether the next one was worth the effort.
Alessia appeared in the doorway behind him.
"Not just her."
She was looking down the hall toward the second guestroom. Toward Yue.
"Her shoulder needs proper reduction. The field relocation damaged the joint capsule."
"You have enough?"
"I'll have enough for both. I won't have anything left after."
"Do it."
Alessia knelt beside Ji-yoo's bed. Pressed her thumb against the inside of Ji-yoo's wrist. Held it. Five seconds. Other hand flat on Ji-yoo's sternum. Eyes closed.
"Get Yue."
Jae-min stepped into the hall. Opened the second guestroom door.
"Alessia needs you. Now."
Yue set her MRE down and walked into the hall.
In Ji-yoo's room, Alessia was already working.
The tetrodotoxin came first. It seeped from her palm into Ji-yoo's bloodstream, spreading through tissue around the shotgun pellets. Ji-yoo's face softened. The tension in her jaw eased. Her breathing smoothed.
Alessia's fingers changed. Nails thinned, hardened, curved into surgical steel. Scalpel hands. Flesh split along fault lines, revealing bone-white blades.
She pressed her right hand against Ji-yoo's side. Scalpel fingers sank through skin and muscle. No blood — the tetrodotoxin had constricted the capillaries. Her fingers moved with surgical precision.
First pellet. Between two ribs. Drew. Metallic click on the floor.
Second. Deeper. Lung tissue. Found it. Pulled.
Third. Fourth. Each slower. Each costing more — tremor worsening, sweat freezing on temples, breathing ragged.
The last pellet came out at seven minutes and forty seconds.
The healing. Both palms flat. Faint, warm luminescence. Muscle fibers knit. Vessels sealed. Skin closed.
Alessia's face went white. She pulled her hands away, shaking badly.
Ji-yoo's breathing changed. Four seconds to two. Depth increased. Color warmed a degree.
Alessia sat still. Ten seconds.
Then she turned to Yue, sitting on the edge of Ji-yoo's desk chair.
"Arm."
Yue extended it. Alessia took it gently. Pressed thumbs along the shoulder joint, feeling the swelling, the torn capsule.
"This is going to hurt."
"It already hurts."
Almost a smile from Alessia. One hand on Yue's shoulder, the other on her forearm. Fingers glowed — dimmer than before, reserves visibly lower. Three seconds. Four.
The numbing spread. Yue's face slackened.
Alessia pushed. Slow. Steady repair. Torn fibers reconnected. Inflammation drained. The joint realigned with a faint, wet sound.
Thirty seconds. Hands away.
Yue flexed her shoulder. Rotated. The grimace was gone.
"It doesn't hurt."
"Give it two hours. The numbness will wear off."
Yue opened her mouth. Closed it.
"Eat something," Alessia said. "Both of you."
She wasn't looking at Yue.
Jae-min set an MRE in Alessia's lap. She stared at it.
"Eat."
She ate. Slowly. Mechanically.
Uncle appeared in the doorway. His eyes moved to Ji-yoo on the bed. Breathing steady. Shallow but present.
"How long?"
"Six hours before I can do anything else. She needs real rest. Warmth. Food."
"Then she gets it."
Uncle looked at Jae-min. No words needed.
Jae-min walked to the master bedroom. Pulled on his coat. The Surgeon Scalpel rifle was in the void somewhere, along with ammunition, cold-weather gear, and everything else he'd need for what came next.
He walked to the living room. The informant was sitting on the couch, finishing a cold MRE.
"We leave in thirty minutes."
The informant looked up. Chewed. Swallowed.
"Forbes Park. The Peacock mansion."
He nodded. Returned to his meal.
Jae-min stood in the living room. Looked at the hallway. The closed doors. Master bedroom. Ji-yoo's room. Uncle's guestroom. The second guestroom. Behind them, six people breathing.
Through the wall, Ji-yoo's breathing held. Two seconds in. Two seconds out.
He pulled his coat tighter.
Thirty minutes.