Chapter 112
“Use it as your base? And why exactly haven’t you asked for our opinion—”
Jung-hwan abruptly stood up in outrage, but Yohan raised a hand to stop him.
“Please, continue.”
“Well, I understand your unease, given how suddenly we appeared. But if you think about it, this isn’t such a bad situation. Look at our military strength. Isn’t it reassuring? With us around, wouldn’t it be possible to build a safe and peaceful island? We’ll protect you.”
“So what you’re saying is: in exchange for providing this island, our resources, and our labor, you’ll offer protection?”
“Exactly! You really do speak like a true leader. Haha.”
The colonel let out a pleased laugh, apparently under the impression his proposal had been positively received.
Yohan responded with a smile of his own.
Of course, he had no intention of feeding those bastards who came to snatch the whole island as if it were theirs for the taking.
“But Colonel.”
“Yes?”
“May I ask—from what, exactly, are you offering protection?”
“Now, don’t be so amateurish. Obviously, from the cause of all this—zombies.”
“Zombies can’t swim, Colonel. This place is already free from zombies. Our only enemies are the lack of supplies and the hunger that comes with it.”
The room’s atmosphere froze over in an instant.
The message was clear: we don’t need your help. You’re only a burden to us.
A chorus of awkward throat-clearing followed.
“We appreciate the gesture, Colonel Jin Juha. Even before all this chaos began, I believed that as citizens of the Republic of Korea, we owed a debt to the soldiers serving our country.”
The expressions of the officers shifted moment by moment. Back and forth, as if delivering a blow only to follow it with a remedy.
Yohan didn’t leave them any space to interrupt as he pressed on with his point.
“Today’s hospitality was meant as repayment of that debt. But this island is barely self-sufficient. We’re in no position to receive help, nor to offer it. Once your military operation is complete, I hope you’ll proceed to your original destination. I’m sorry, but as for the sailors’ food situation—we won’t be able to assist. As you can see, we haven’t even started the harvest yet.”
His words flowed like water—smooth and unrelenting. The colonel didn’t get a chance to cut in.
“I believe someone mentioned earlier that humanity’s counterattack would begin with the navy. I trust that you won’t settle down in some remote place and burden the civilians. With exemplary officers like yourself around, I’m sure we can rest easy.”
They’d lost both moral ground and practical leverage. The colonel may have intended to use this meeting to justify taking over the island, but everything said here had now backfired.
Glancing around, Yohan saw his team members all wearing satisfied expressions. A smile escaped him before he could stop it.
“Well, it’s getting late. Shall we wrap things up?”
Yohan stood, having said all he wanted to say, but the colonel quickly waved his hands.
“Wait, I still have something to say.”
“Go ahead.”
“I admit, it’s a bit awkward to bring this up when we haven’t even helped you with anything…”
More like they hadn’t helped at all.
Yohan grumbled silently to himself.
“According to the Reserve Forces Act, during wartime, all civilians are to be incorporated into the reserve forces. Based on that law, we intend to organize the residents of this island into our unit’s reserve force.”
What kind of bullshit is this?
Yohan frowned more deeply than he had all day.
“Suddenly?”
“It may seem abrupt, but that’s the law.”
“Do you have any official documents or paperwork to support this?”
“It’s stated in the wartime legislation. Violations can result in immediate court-martial and, in extreme cases, summary execution.”
The tone was somewhere between a coax and a threat.
So they want to exercise authority now…
“Even so, if we’re to be incorporated into the reserves, it wouldn’t be under the navy—or your specific unit. Are there even precedents of forcibly reassigning reservists to another branch or unit?”
“Well… There could be similar cases.”
“Is that so? I’ve never heard of one. Then please, take me to court for violating the law. I’ll hire a lawyer. You mentioned summary execution earlier, but I trust that as a naval officer—sworn to protect this country and its people—you wouldn’t execute a civilian who hasn’t even been formally enlisted.”
“You—!”
What began as a calm discussion had clearly devolved into sarcasm and sharp criticism—and everyone present was aware of it.
The colonel’s face contorted with rage, veins bulging. It was almost comical.
He probably wanted to draw his sidearm and point it at Yohan’s head, but he managed to restrain himself.
After all, the military was a group obsessed with appearances and legitimacy. He wasn’t dumb enough to act rashly in this situation.
They might’ve tried to swallow the island whole using various excuses—but Yohan had no intention of letting that happen.
“Oppa!”
Just then, Seri burst through the door.
“What is it?”
“It’s… Sweeper oppa… The navy assaulted him!”
“……”
Yohan couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
What now?
At that moment, the expressions of the officers turned pale in an instant.
* * *
“Waaah! I’m dying! He’s killing me! That damn soldier is gonna kill someone!!”
Sweeper’s voice rang out from afar, exaggerated and dramatic. For someone claiming to be dying, his lungs worked just fine.
Following Seri, a dozen people rushed over to the weapons and ammunition depot. A petty officer was struggling against the grip of his fellow sailors, while Sweeper was holding his cheek with both hands, wearing a pitiful expression and acting the part of the victim.
“What happened here?”
The colonel addressed the sailors holding the petty officer. One of them groaned out a reply.
“C-Captain. Well, the thing is…”
“You bastard! Say it again. Huh? I dare you to say that again!”
Whatever the petty officer had said, it must’ve been outrageous enough to warrant this kind of rage. Yohan suddenly found himself curious.
“Petty Officer!”
When Colonel Jin roared, the petty officer finally seemed to snap out of it and stopped his outburst. Still, he hadn’t calmed down completely, and raised his voice at the colonel.
“Captain! That bastard disrespected our navy and our vessel! Arrogant son of a—!”
Knowing how meticulous the colonel was, he’d surely warned them not to act rashly. So why was this one reacting so emotionally?
Yohan couldn’t contain his curiosity and glanced at Sweeper. The corner of Sweeper’s mouth was subtly raised.
“What’s the matter, Navy man? All I said was that the weapons and ammo storage is off-limits.”
“W-what!”
A tone laced with obvious sarcasm.
‘This bastard…’
No doubt about it.
‘He planned this.’
There was no way someone like Sweeper—quick and alert—wouldn’t dodge a slap like that.
He had clearly provoked that petty officer on purpose. Whatever he said to incite him enough to throw a punch, it worked.
Even though it was clearly a setup, Sweeper didn’t show a hint of worry in Yohan’s direction.
If anything, the others were the only ones nervously watching the fallout.
‘Cunning bastard.’
Only Sweeper had read his mind.
He knew Yohan had been waiting for a pretext.
Sweeper remembered how Yohan had handled bringing in Lieutenant Ahn’s camp.
People had an innate resistance to openly defying the military or police. It was a kind of learned loyalty—learned fear.
Even in all this chaos, they might still be thinking of the future—worried that once the government was reestablished and civilization restored, there would be consequences.
So without a legitimate justification, striking first against soldiers was risky. It wasn’t the same as dealing with thugs or criminals.
There was always that lurking thought—‘Are we just a gang now, rebelling against the military?’ That seed of doubt would grow into cracks, and those cracks would destroy the balance.
Blind loyalty was something only battle-hardened comrades could be expected to show. You couldn’t demand that of every survivor, especially the newer ones.
The first step was to make them feel, deep inside: ‘This is too much.’
They had to rob the navy of their justification.
In that sense, Jung-hwan and Seri’s earlier reactions had been a minus. Sweeper’s action was a plus.
Yohan wasn’t about to let this justification that Sweeper had created go to waste. Putting on a troubled expression, he addressed the colonel.
“Colonel.”
“T-this is…”
“You mentioned protecting us just moments ago, but this makes that promise ring a bit hollow. Please keep your subordinates in check. Even if you’re upset, resorting to violence is a bit…”
He locked eyes with him once more.
“Wouldn’t you agree it’s inappropriate?”
The colonel’s face twisted with embarrassment. His men had always followed orders well—he wasn’t used to situations spiraling like this.
“Let’s get the full picture and then—”
“Get what picture? Are you suggesting our resident who got slapped is somehow at fault?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
His voice grew more desperate.
“If this is how it is already, then I shudder to think what would happen if you actually began ‘protecting’ us. Who knows? Maybe you’d start treating us like slaves.”
“Now, that’s going too far!”
Another officer jumped in. The air was tight, like a powder keg ready to blow.
Yohan pressed harder. The justification wasn’t solid enough yet. Truthfully, he was half-hoping someone would snap and draw a gun—but that snake of a commander just forced a troubled smile.
‘This won’t be enough.’
Yohan steeled himself. There would be more time—and another incident was bound to happen.
Killing them outright might shock the residents now, but the resentment was already boiling. Yohan was sure of it. Something more definitive was coming.
“Everyone, good work today. Let’s wrap this up and get some rest. You too, Sweeper. I’ll handle tonight’s watch on the armory myself. As for our navy guests, I’d appreciate it if you could leave as soon as possible.”
Not that he had any intention of letting them go quietly.
With that, Yohan turned on his heel, dismissed his team, and stepped inside the ammo depot.
* * *
“How are they moving?”
“Nothing unusual. Just annoying.”
Seri still grumbled.
“I wish we could just wipe them out already.”
Ever since the ‘Sweeper assault’ incident the day before, tension between the navy and Sindo’s residents had been steadily growing. Assaulting a comrade had only poured oil on the fire of their already mounting resentment.
Not that anyone still believed Sweeper could be taken down that easily.
The navy remained silent. Most likely dealing with internal discipline and meetings. The officers and petty officers stayed holed up at their designated coastal position, barely making a move.
But the soldiers were another story—their activity was anything but ordinary.
Three days into this uneasy coexistence, it finally happened. Something broke.
