[ENG] What? My "Information Club" is Actually an All-Knowing Secret Society?
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What? My "Information Club" is Actually an All-Knowing Secret Society?
Genre : Apocalypse, Fantasy, Superpower, Action
Tag : Misunderstanding, Secret Organization, World-Freezing, Super power
Chapter 29 : Value
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[Time remaining until The Great Freeze: 5 Days]
[Location: Arlen's Apartment, 4th Floor - West Jakarta]
[Time: Day 7 - 00:30 PM]
The oppressive, pitch-black silence of the apartment slowly returned, completely replacing the chaotic, howling intrusion of the freezing wind. Arlen sat perfectly still on the cold ceramic floor, maintaining a calculated distance from the bound woman. He watched her carefully in the absolute darkness, his eyes relying entirely on the faint, muted glow of his wristwatch to track her movements.
Ten full minutes had passed since he patched the shattered window.
The thick layers of construction plastic and Gorilla Tape successfully held back the lethal -15°C atmosphere, and the ambient temperature inside the living room was slowly stabilizing.
The woman had stopped thrashing. Her knees were still pulled tightly against her chest, but the frantic, hyperventilating panic that had previously seized her lungs had gradually subsided into a slow, exhausted rhythm. She was shivering violently, her teeth clicking behind the thick tape, but she was no longer fighting the restraints.
She had accepted the reality of her situation. She was entirely at his mercy.
Arlen let out a quiet, measured breath. He slowly reached into his tactical vest and pulled out a small, heavy-duty flashlight. He covered the lens with his gloved hand, allowing only a tiny, heavily filtered sliver of dull light to bleed through his fingers. He did not want to illuminate the entire room, nor did he want to blind her.
He simply needed enough visual confirmation to conduct a proper interrogation.
He directed the faint, muted beam toward the floor, illuminating her face just enough to study her features.
She was young, likely no older than twenty-one. The grueling, brutal reality of the past week had clearly taken a severe toll on her physical condition. Her shoulder-length black hair was matted and tangled with dirt and dried sweat. And her skin was a pale, sickly shade of porcelain brought on by severe exposure to the extreme cold.
Yet, beneath the grime and the exhaustion, there was a lingering trace of youthful softness, a stark reminder that just seven days ago, she was likely living a perfectly normal, mundane life.
Arlen shifted closer, moving with slow, deliberate caution to ensure he did not trigger another panic attack.
"I am going to remove the tape from your mouth now," Arlen stated, his voice remaining low, steady, and entirely clinical.
"If you attempt to scream, I will immediately reapply it, and our negotiation will end permanently. Do we have an absolute understanding?"
The young woman stared at the faint sliver of light illuminating Arlen's masked face. She swallowed hard and gave a slow, definitive nod.
Arlen reached out with his right hand. He gripped the edge of the Gorilla Tape and peeled it back with a swift, firm motion to minimize the pain. The woman let out a sharp, breathless gasp as the adhesive pulled at her skin, but she immediately clamped her jaw shut, honoring her silent agreement. She did not scream. She simply took a deep, desperate breath of the stale apartment air, her chest heaving as she finally regained full use of her lungs.
"Good," Arlen said, his tone carrying a faint trace of pragmatic approval.
He stood up, turning his back on her for just a moment to reach into his insulated micro-tent. He pulled out a heavy, incredibly thick wool blanket he had scavenged from the bedroom closet. He walked back and draped it over her shivering shoulders, ensuring the heavy fabric covered her bound arms and trapped her remaining body heat.
"My name is Ren," Arlen lied effortlessly, utilizing the shortened pseudonym with the casual confidence of a man who had completely detached himself from his past identity.
"Identify yourself."
The woman pulled her knees tighter beneath the heavy wool blanket, her dark, expressive eyes watching his every movement with a mixture of lingering fear and absolute confusion.
He had tackled her, bound her, and gagged her, yet he was now providing her with high-grade thermal insulation and a calm, rational conversation.
"Maya," she whispered, her voice hoarse and incredibly fragile from the cold and the prolonged silence. "My name is Maya."
"Alright, Maya," Arlen replied, sitting back down on an overturned plastic crate just a few feet away. He reached toward the small, contained portable camping stove he had dragged out of the tent. He ignited the small burner, the tiny blue flame casting a warm, comforting glow between them.
He placed a small metal pot containing a mixture of melted ice and canned beef stew over the fire. Arlen was brave enough to do so because the mutants in the surrounding area had been cleared, so he was safe. At least for now.
"Tell me about the group that forced you to climb that debris ramp. How many of them are hiding down there, and what is their current operational status?"
The rich, heavy scent of cooking beef and warm spices slowly began to fill the freezing room. Maya's eyes immediately locked onto the metal pot, her pupils dilating as her starving stomach let out a loud, painful rumble. She swallowed heavily, tearing her gaze away from the food to look at Arlen.
"There are... there are twelve of us left," Maya began, her voice trembling slightly as she recalled the nightmare outside.
"We were hiding in the flooded basement of the bank two blocks away. But the social structure... it's completely gone. It deteriorated two days ago when the food ran out."
Arlen listened intently, He needed to understand the exact psychological decay of the human population to predict their future movements.
"Explain the deterioration," Arlen instructed calmly.
"It's absolute chaos," Maya whispered, a profound, hollow despair settling into her dark eyes.
The warmth of the blanket and the smell of the food seemed to break down her emotional barriers, allowing the sheer trauma of the week to spill out.
"The leader, a guy named Harris, took control of the remaining rations. He uses the food to force the weaker members to do all the dangerous scavenging. People are turning on each other. There is no empathy left. Yesterday, a man broke his ankle running from the dogs. Harris refused to share the water with him because he was 'useless weight.' They just left him in the corner to die."
Maya closed her eyes, a single tear cutting a clean path down her dirt-smudged cheek.
"They forced me to climb up here tonight because I argued with Harris about rationing the water," she continued, her voice breaking.
"He told me to sweep the elevated floors. He knew it was a suicide mission. He just wanted me gone so there would be one less mouth to feed. If I go back down there empty-handed, they will just lock me out in the cold."
Arlen stared at the boiling stew, his expression hidden behind the shadows of the room. He was learning a terrifying, invaluable lesson about the human condition at the end of the world. The absolute void of the sky above them had not just blocked out the sun, its also completely snuffed out the basic morality of the survivors.
The apocalypse simply stripped away the luxurious illusion of civilization, revealing the desperate, selfish core beneath.
"I understand," Arlen said quietly, his voice devoid of pity, but lacking any cruelty. It was simply an acknowledgment of a brutal fact.
Maya looked at him, her dark eyes suddenly burning with a desperate, frantic plea. She shifted her weight, leaning forward against her bound hands.
"Please," Maya begged, her voice dropping into a desperate, trembling whisper. "Please, do not make me go back out there. If you force me out that window, I will freeze to death before the sun rises. I can't go back to them. Let me stay here. Just a small corner. I won't take up space, I won't make a sound."
Arlen remained completely silent. His mind immediately initiated a ruthless, high-speed calculation of the variables.
Loss and Revenue, Arlen analyzed, his pale eyes entirely focused on the mathematical reality of her request. Keeping her here introduces a massive drain on my caloric reserves and my clean water supply.
However, Arlen also understood the severe limitations of his own physical condition. He was suffering from chronic sleep deprivation because he had to manage every single aspect of his survival alone. He was currently planning to break through a solid concrete wall to secure an escape route, a task that would completely drain his energy.
What is her potential? Arlen questioned himself. Is she capable of offsetting her own cost?
"You are asking me to permanently invest my severely limited resources into your survival," Arlen stated coldly, completely stripping away the emotional weight of her plea to reveal the raw, transactional reality beneath.
"In this new world, nobody gets to simply exist for free. What is your value, Maya? What can you do that makes you worth the food in this pot?"
Maya blinked, slightly taken aback by the sheer, calculating bluntness of his response. But she quickly realized that crying and begging would not sway a man who analyzed human lives like accounting ledgers. She needed to present a value.
"I am... I was a third-year university student majoring in Architecture and Interior Design," Maya said quickly, her brain working frantically to translate her academic knowledge into apocalyptic utility.
"I understand structural integrity, weight distribution, and localized thermodynamics. I noticed your window patches. They are functional, but highly inefficient. That's why I could easily find your room too. You are losing nearly twenty percent of your ambient heat through microscopic drafts near the concrete seams. I can completely redesign the insulation of your safe room using the scavenged materials in this apartment to trap the heat perfectly. I can build a proper ventilation system for your stove that completely recycles the warm air without letting the smoke kill us."
Arlen's eyes narrowed slightly. That was an incredibly specific, highly valuable set of skills. His micro-tent was functional, but it was amateurish. A localized thermodynamic expert could drastically reduce his need to burn fuel.
"And I know how to manage supplies," Maya added desperately, seeing that she had captured his attention.
"I worked part-time as a kitchen manager for a massive catering company to pay my tuition. I know exactly how to stretch limited ingredients, how to preserve fading organics, and how to cook efficiently using minimal heat sources. I can manage the inventory. I can maintain the hideout while you rest. I can make this place actually livable."
Arlen stared at her for a long, silent minute.. If she was telling the truth, her utility could exponentially increase his overall quality of life and drastically reduce his mental fatigue.
"I will make my final decision regarding you tomorrow," Arlen declared, his tone leaving absolutely no room for debate.
"You will have twenty-four hours to prove the architectural and managerial value you just claimed. If you fail, or if I catch you attempting to compromise my security, I will put not just put you out outside, Understood?"
Maya let out a massive, shuddering breath of profound relief, her shoulders slumping beneath the heavy wool blanket. "Understood. Thank you. I swear, you won't regret this."
Arlen reached over and turned off the portable stove. The stew was boiling, the rich, thick sauce bubbling with a heavy, savory heat.
He picked up the metal pot with a thick cloth and grabbed a clean plastic spoon from his supply crate.
"You need to eat this to elevate your core body temperature," Arlen said, moving the pot closer.
Maya instinctively tried to move her arms, completely forgetting the thick industrial zip ties securing her wrists firmly behind her back.
She winced as the plastic dug painfully into her skin. She looked up at Arlen, expecting him to finally cut the restraints so she could eat.
Arlen did not reach for his knife.
She has proven to be cooperative, but she is still an unknown variable, Arlen's thinking with his logic.
Allowing her use of her hands in close proximity to my face while my guard is lowered for a feeding procedure presents an unnecessary tactical risk. The restraints must remain until tomorrow.
Without a single word, Arlen scooped up a generous portion of the hot, steaming beef and potatoes. He blew on it gently to cool the boiling sauce, then slowly extended the spoon directly toward Maya's mouth.
Maya froze entirely. Her eyes widened into massive, shocked circles, staring at the plastic spoon hovering just inches from her lips.
Arlen was completely oblivious to the massive emotional and psychological implications of his action. To him, this was a purely mechanical procedure, maintaining absolute physical security while simultaneously ensuring the biological survival.
But to Maya, whose mind had been violently shattered by a week of absolute brutality, starvation, and the selfish cruelty of her former group, the action registered in an entirely different way.
This terrifying, calculating man who had tackled her to the floor was now carefully blowing on her food so she wouldn't burn her tongue. He was feeding her by hand in the dark, ensuring she stayed warm under a heavy blanket while he sat in the freezing air.
A sudden, intense rush of heat that had absolutely nothing to do with the temperature of the room flushed rapidly across Maya's pale, dirt-smudged cheeks. Her heart, which had previously hammered with pure terror, suddenly gave a bizarre, erratic flutter.
"He... he is actually feeding me," Maya thought, her mind completely short-circuiting as a deep, crimson blush spread across her face.
"He looks so scary, but he is treating me with so much care..."
"Eat," Arlen commanded softly, his pale eyes entirely focused on the mechanical task, completely missing the bizarre, highly skewed romanticization currently infecting his new captive's traumatized brain.
"The ambient temperature will cool the stew rapidly. We cannot waste the heat."
Maya parted her lips slowly, accepting the warm, incredibly rich food. The taste of the savory beef hitting her starving tongue was absolute heaven, but the bizarre, entirely awkward intimacy of the moment was far more overwhelming.
She chewed slowly, her dark eyes looking up at Arlen through her messy bangs, her cheeks burning fiercely in the dim light.
Arlen simply scooped up another spoonful, completely unaware that his cold, pragmatic survival logic had just accidentally triggered a massive, highly complicated emotional variable that he was absolutely not prepared to handle.
›› To Be Continue ‹‹
—KS