The subway had always been a strange place.
Even before the apocalypse.
To Min-jae, it was a living organism: it breathed people in, swallowed schedules, spat out delays and stale smells. A place where no one met anyone's eyes for more than two seconds. Where everyone pretended to be alone, even when crushed against strangers.
Now, standing at the station entrance, he felt something different.
It wasn't fear.
It was recognition.
"…So this is where it really begins," he murmured.
Cold air flowed down the escalators like a silent warning. Not strong, but constant. A cold that didn't come from outside, but from within the concrete itself.
Min-jae adjusted the backpack on his shoulders and went down.
Each step seemed to pull him deeper.
The system reacted almost immediately.
[Area Analysis Active]
[Environment: Urban Underground — Thermal Stability: Moderate]
[Current Risk: Low]
[Survival Potential: High]
"At least someone here likes this place," he commented.
The station was operating normally. Trains arriving, people rushing, automated announcements with that neutral voice that always sounded like it was judging everyone.
But Min-jae wasn't there as a passenger.
He was observing.
The walls.
Emergency exits.
Technical rooms behind locked doors.
Old maps forgotten in corners.
In the first apocalypse, he only reached the subway after the surface was already dead.
When the cold was so intense that breathing hurt.
When creatures were already crawling along the tracks.
Now… now it was early.
And that made all the difference.
"Rule number one," he murmured. "Those who arrive early get to choose better."
He walked along the platform pretending to wait for a train.
In reality, he was counting.
How many entrances.
How many side corridors.
How many security guards.
Few.
Good sign.
The government hadn't tightened control there yet. They still didn't see the subway as a strategic resource.
Classic mistake.
In the first apocalypse, by the time they realized it, it was already too late.
Min-jae boarded an empty car and sat near the door.
The train started moving.
As stations passed by, he observed the people.
Students. Workers. A man sleeping with his head drooping. An elderly woman clutching shopping bags.
"Some of you will die," he thought, without emotion. "Others will kill me if they get the chance."
Sanity: 59%.
"Well then," he murmured. "It's already started."
---
Ji-eun wouldn't leave his mind
And that irritated him.
Min-jae hated emotional variables.
In the first apocalypse, that was exactly what nearly killed him more than once.
People.
Bonds.
Stupid promises like "we'll survive together."
He remembered Ji-eun frozen in the apartment.
Remembered the metallic smell in the air.
Remembered not being able to open the door in time.
"…Stop," he murmured, closing his eyes for a moment. "Not now."
But the problem was too simple to ignore.
Ji-eun wasn't just another neighbor.
She had three rare qualities:
1. Medical knowledge
2. A cool head under pressure (in the first apocalypse, at least for a while)
3. Flexible morals when things got worse
She didn't become a hero.
But she didn't become a monster either.
She survived longer than most.
And in the world that was coming, that was everything.
"You don't choose allies because you like them," he murmured. "You choose them because they increase your chances of not dying."
Even so… he sighed.
"Damn it."
---
The train stopped at a larger station, with multiple lines.
Min-jae got off.
Here, the underground was deeper. Older. Colder.
The system updated.
[Ambient Temperature: 2.3°C below surface]
[Thermal Variation: Stable]
"Perfect," he murmured. "The cold kills up there, but preserves down here."
He moved away from the main area and followed a less crowded corridor.
A sign read: "Technical Access — Staff Only."
Locked.
In the first apocalypse, that door stayed open for exactly forty minutes during a blackout.
He remembered it like it was yesterday.
"Not yet," he murmured. "But soon."
He wrote it down in his notebook.
Station X
Technical room in east corridor
Metal door — no visible camera
Good for initial shelter / storage
When he finished, the system blinked.
[Potential Shelter Data Registered]
"See?" he smiled faintly. "We get each other."
---
South Korea still believed in official statements
That much was clear as soon as Min-jae returned to the surface.
Large screens displayed the news.
"Government guarantees energy stability"
"Extreme cold is a temporary phenomenon"
"National reserves are secure"
Min-jae walked past without slowing down.
"Same bullshit every time," he murmured. "Change the year, change the politicians, but the script stays the same."
He remembered the timeline perfectly.
First: minimize.
Then: reassure.
Then: control information.
Finally: actually lose control.
The Korean government was efficient.
But efficiency meant nothing when the problem didn't obey human laws.
"They'll hold it together for…" he thought. "Two weeks. Maybe three."
After that?
Localized blackouts.
Rationing.
Military protecting strategic points.
Civilians abandoned.
"Nothing personal," he murmured. "Just statistics."
The system agreed.
[Projection: Partial collapse of urban infrastructure — 18 to 26 days]
"Great," he sighed. "I've got less than a month to not become a human popsicle."
---
The first shelter didn't need to be perfect
It needed to be fast.
That was the difference between living and dying.
Min-jae spent the rest of the day exploring.
Underground garages.
Service entrances.
Basements of commercial buildings.
Most had problems.
Too exposed.
Poor insulation.
Easy access for any idiot with a crowbar.
Until he found one.
An old, nearly abandoned parking structure beneath an administrative building.
Low traffic.
Narrow entrance.
Emergency exit in the back.
He went down.
The air was heavy, but stable.
The concrete floor held the cold.
"…It's not pretty," he murmured. "But it's not a coffin either."
The system evaluated.
[Shelter Evaluation — Provisional]
[Thermal Insulation: Medium]
[Initial Capacity: 2–4 people]
[Heat Source: None]
[Current Risk: Low]
"Everything's missing," he commented. "But it's workable."
He smiled.
For the first time in days.
---
Min-jae returned at night, carrying what he'd managed to buy without raising suspicion.
Thick plastic sheets.
Insulating foam.
Cheap tools.
Thermal tape.
Nothing flashy.
Nothing that screamed apocalypse.
He worked in silence.
Covered gaps.
Improvised seals.
Created a small enclosed area within the larger space.
He was sweating.
His hands hurt.
Sanity dropped another point.
"Anyone who romanticizes survival has never done this in their life," he muttered.
The system appeared.
[Rapid Construction: Partially Available]
[Energy Consumption: High]
"Don't even start," he replied. "Save that for when I really need it."
Hours later, he collapsed onto the floor.
The shelter wasn't beautiful.
But it worked.
"…Okay," he breathed deeply. "First official shelter."
The system confirmed.
[Initial Shelter Registered]
[Temporary Name: Underground Shelter-01]
"Creative name," he gave a weak laugh. "I'll work on that later."
---
He was heading back to the apartment when he ran into her on the stairs.
Ji-eun was carrying two large bags. She looked tired. Tense.
"Min-jae," she called. "Can I talk to you?"
He froze for half a second.
"Sure," he replied, pretending to be normal.
They entered the apartment.
Ji-eun looked around.
"You're… preparing," she said, not as a question.
"I like being cautious."
She crossed her arms.
"So do I."
Silence.
"The things you've been buying," she continued. "They're not normal."
"The cold isn't either."
She sighed.
"I work at a hospital, Min-jae. And there are things… strange things happening."
His heart sped up.
"Like what?"
"People coming in with mild hypothermia for no clear reason. Equipment failures. Medications freezing."
She stared at him.
"And you don't look surprised."
He closed his eyes.
"Damn."
Sanity: 58%.
"Ji-eun," he said slowly, "if I told you that something very wrong is about to happen… would you believe me?"
She thought.
For a long few seconds.
"I'd believe that you believe it," she replied. "And that's enough for me to listen."
He laughed softly.
"See?" he murmured. "That's why you survived longer."
She frowned.
"What?"
"Nothing."
The system appeared.
[Important Human Variable Detected]
[Cooperation Potential: High]
[Emotional Risk: Moderate]
"Shut up," Min-jae thought.
He took a deep breath.
"Ji-eun…" he began. "If things get bad fast, I have a place."
Her eyes widened.
"A shelter?"
"A beginning."
Silence.
"Why me?" she asked.
He didn't lie.
"Because you know how to take care of people. And because you don't panic easily."
She studied his face.
"And because you don't want to be alone."
He didn't answer.
---
On TV, the tone was changing.
Fewer smiles.
More technical terms.
More press conferences.
Rationing announced "as a preventive measure."
Armed forces on climate alert.
Restricted access to certain areas.
Min-jae watched it all with an almost unhealthy calm.
"They're doing well," he murmured. "Better than in the first cycle."
But it didn't matter.
The cold didn't negotiate.
The system appeared one last time that day.
[Upcoming Event: Localized Power Drop]
[Estimate: 72 hours]
Min-jae closed the notebook.
Looked at Ji-eun, sitting on the couch, nervously scrolling through her phone.
"So," he said. "Want to learn how to survive?"
She looked up.
"Is that a question or a threat?"
He smiled, tired.
"An invitation."
Outside, the temperature began to fall again.
And beneath Seoul, the first shelter breathed.
Fragile.
Imperfect.
But alive.
And for the first time since returning to the past, Kang Min-jae felt something close to confidence.
Not in the world.
Not in the system.
But in himself.
Winter was coming.
And this time…
he wasn't waiting to be swallowed.