There were no signs yet.No shops.Nothing that could be called "complete."
Still, people unpacked first.
On the first morning,while a crane lowered container modules into place,a couple who arrived with two children sat inside their car,sharing cups of instant noodles.
"This is it, right?""Yeah. This place."
The area was still under construction,and the wind cut sharply through the site.
Yet the wife smiled.
"For the first time,it feels like we're not being chased out because of a house."
In another zone,a young man who came alone opened the door of his house truckand stood inside for a long time.
One bed.A small table.One window.
He put his bag down and took a photo with his phone.
Move-in complete.
He posted it in a group chat.
The replies came immediately.
You survived.This is the beginning. Hold out there.
He closed his eyes for a moment as he read them.
A child who came with only his grandmotherran up and down the house truck steps three times.
"Grandma, does our house move?""It does.""Then does it go to school too?""Yes. It goes together."
The child liked that answer.He kept nodding.
By evening,lights began to turn on one by one in the center of the city.
Temporary streetlights.Facility management lights.The standby glow of the medical center.
And from afar, a sound—the low preheating hum of a doctor truck engine.
Someone said,"Hearing that makes it feel like a real city."
The first night.
Inside their own house trucks,people did similar things.
They closed the door.Checked the lock.Opened it once more.Closed it again.
Then they just sat there.
Not because there was nothing to do,but because it was a night they didn't have to run.
Operations control room.
Park Hae-yoon stared at the move-in status board.
Completed move-ins: 47 householdsElectricity and water: normalMedical hotline: on standby
Someone asked,"It's quieter than expected."
Hae-yoon nodded.
"When people finally get a home,they tend to get quiet."
That night, the first post appeared on the residents' board.
The title was short.
〈Day One〉
The content was even shorter.
Nothing happened today.So I think we'll live well.
There weren't many comments.Instead, the recommendation count rose slowly.
That was how the house trucks accepted people.
No ceremonies.No ribbons.No cutting.
A city wasn't made by declaration.
It began the momentsomeone unpacked, closed the door,and fell asleep that night.
Between posts on the residents-only boardand SNS check-in photos,one sentence began to appear again and again.
"There is Song Jae-min here."
At first, the words were cautious.
Honestly, I applied because of the housing layout,but seeing the medical system made me feel at ease.
As a parent, I didn't realize how big it isto know doctor trucks run at night.
Over time, the tone changed.
Comments from selected residents.
Living here isn't about getting a house—it's about entering a system of rescue.
A city where a doctor arrives in ten minutes,not an ER forty minutes away.
Is it okay to be proud of this?
Friends ask me, "Is there a hospital there?"I tell them, "The hospital moves."
Parents wrote:
When my child has a fever,my first thought isn't "Where do we drive?"but "The city will move."
My husband heard Professor Song Jae-min's nameand hit confirm that same day.
I learned that healthcare isn't insurance—it's trust.
Young residents wrote:
I had no money, no home, just my body.But at least I know I won't be abandoned if I collapse.
Living here doesn't feel like being protected—it feels like not being alone.
One post said:
"Choosing a city with a medical system like Song Jae-min'smight be the best decision I've made in my life."
The recommendations accumulated quietly.
Pride came later.
It started when photos of house truck production were uploaded.
Stamped on the vehicle body:
TRUCK CITY – T-MED AFFILIATED CITY
A captured image posted with a caption:
This city was criticized because of its medical system.Now that same medical system is why I love it.
We didn't buy cheap.We chose correctly.
If my child asks one day, I'll say:'Your dad chose a city that saves people first.'
On social media, comments like this spread:
A city with Professor Song Jae-min—that's an address worth being proud of.
A city where pride rises, not just property values.
I'm a Truck City resident.If needed, I'll testify.
Someone wrote:
"People here don't share an emergency room.They share responsibility."
That post was quietly capturedand shared across other communities.
Truck City was not yet complete.
The house trucks were still being painted.The roads had just been paved.
And yet, people were already saying:
"I'm entering this city on trust."
Not because there was a house,but because they knew someone would come—all the way to the end.
And that name repeated in every comment.
Song Jae-min.
No longer the name of controversy,but the reason for choice.