Ethan Carter’s eyes snapped open.
The ceiling was stained and cracked~gray patches, brown ones, dark spots that looked like they’d been trying to grow something. The kind of ugly that only happens when nobody’s cared about a place for a long time.
The smell hit next. Blood. Thick, metallic, mixed with dust and something faintly chemical. It sat heavy in the back of his throat.
He tried to move.
Pain tore through his right leg so hard his vision went white. A sharp hiss scraped out of him.
He looked down.
Pant leg soaked dark red, almost black where the blood had started to dry. Lower leg bent at an angle that made his stomach twist. Completely wrong.
This wasn’t his body.
Last thing he remembered was the safe house. The one with the actual mattress and a door that locked. Lila had shoved him onto it the second they were alone. Weeks of running, fighting, scavenging, barely touching beyond quick desperate kisses in the dark. That night was supposed to be the first time they finally did it.
She’d climbed on top of him still in that thin tank top. Hands under his shirt, then yanking his belt open like it had personally offended her. When she got his cock free she didn’t tease. Just wrapped her fingers around it, stroked hard once, twice, thumb dragging over the head until he was fully hard and leaking against her palm.
She shifted her hips, lined him up, and started sinking down. The head pressed right against her~hot, wet, tight~and for half a second he felt the first stretch of her entrance around him~
Door exploded open.
Colonel Hale stood there in full uniform, dirt on his boots, pistol already raised.
Lila froze halfway down. Ethan’s brain short-circuited so hard he just stared, cock still pressed against her, not even an inch inside.
The colonel’s face went from shock to pure ice.
Gun came up.
Ethan opened his mouth.
Bang.
Black.
And now he was here.
Different body. Leg fucked. Blood everywhere. Ceiling that looked like it hated him too.
Before he could process it, a flood of memories that weren’t his slammed into his head.
Fast. Messy. Overwhelming.
He was in the suburbs of Silvermont City, Eagle Kingdom, on Eldoria.
One month ago a mysterious red fog had swept across the continent, turning roughly half of humanity into mindless zombies. Animals mutated too. Governments collapsed. Power failed. Stores were stripped bare overnight. The streets became hunting grounds.
Survival was the only rule left.
And the original owner of this body?
Also named Ethan. Twenty-eight. Absolute fucking simp.
A month and a half ago he’d moved into this residential complex for one woman~Morgana Sykes. His goddess. Even after the Apocalypse started, nothing changed. While other survivors fought over food, this idiot searched for supplies for her.
Three hours ago he’d found a bag of bread and a can of milk powder. On the way back, zombies poured into the complex. He ran, dodged, tripped. Crack. Lower leg snapped.
Instead of leaving the supplies, he crawled. Dragged himself through the streets, leaving a trail of blood, clutching the bread and milk powder like they were sacred. Made it home, locked the door, collapsed, and died.
Ethan stared at the ceiling and let out a long breath.
"You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me."
Transmigration was one thing. But why this body? Shattered leg. Zombies outside. And the previous owner had nearly died for a woman who probably wouldn’t have done the same for him.
At least I’m not the original owner.
The last memory fragment showed zombies still pouring into the complex.
Then~
[Ding! Detecting the host’s strong desire to survive, "Doomsday Gift System" activated successfully.]
A cold mechanical voice rang inside his mind.
Ethan’s eyes snapped open.
A system?
[System Rules: Gift items to females with a Beauty Score of 85 or higher to receive a multiplied return.]
[Supply Restrictions: Limited to ingestible supplies such as food, medicine, and other consumable items.]
[Base Return determined by Beauty Score and Rarity. Higher numbers = better return.]
[Bonus Drop possible based on the recipient’s emotional reaction.]
[One Temporary Storage slot. Seven-day cooldown per target. Returned supplies cannot be gifted again.]
Ethan understood quickly.
His expression turned strange.
"Damn. It’s actually a simp system?"
The original owner died being a simp. Now he’d inherited both the body and a system that rewarded him for giving supplies to women.
He laughed. Quiet. Disbelieving. A little unhinged.
Fine. If that’s what it takes to survive, I’ll play along.
Rapid footsteps outside. A woman’s impatient shouting.
"Ethan! Ethan, are you inside?"
Morgana.
Next-door neighbor. Self-proclaimed goddess. The reason the previous owner had crawled through zombie streets with a broken leg.
Ethan felt a slow wave of disgust. Then her face surfaced in the memories~sharp cheekbones, full lips, eyes that could make a man forget common sense.
Fine. She was beautiful. He could endure it.
"I’m here."
The lock clicked. The door swung open hard.
Morgana stepped inside in tight black clothes that clung to every curve. Makeup still perfect, as if the end of the world was just another inconvenience. Her gaze swept the room, clinical, then landed on him~and the leg.
Surprise lasted less than a second. Then pure disgust.
[Ding! Gift target detected: Morgana Sykes, 25 years old, Beauty Score: 88.]
"Where’s my food?" she asked, arms crossed. "Didn’t you say you were going to find something for me?"
Ethan looked at his left hand. A shriveled, blood-smeared piece of bread was still clenched there~the same bread the previous owner had nearly died for. The only food left.
He raised it.
"It’s here."
Her eyes lit up. She crossed the room and reached for it.
"Wait."
He pulled his hand back.
"What do you want?"
"Here."
He handed it over. Voice flat. No softness. No longing.
Morgana took it, weighed the sad little piece in her palm, and frowned.
"Trash. There’s only one piece of bread?"
She turned toward the door.
[Ding! Bread gifted. First-time gift. Base Return unlocked.]
[Morgana Sykes, Beauty Score: 88, Rarity: 58. Base Return: 5x.]
[Returned Supplies: Bread x5. Temporary Storage.]
[Cooldown: 7 days.]
Five times.
Ethan almost laughed under his breath.
So this is the goddess you nearly died for?
The original owner’s memories flooded back~smiles that made his day, texts that made him run across the city, requests that emptied his wallet. Even in the Apocalypse he’d risked his life for one piece of bread. And now she was complaining it wasn’t enough.
"This isn’t being a simp," Ethan muttered. "This is being a total fucking sucker."
Morgana stopped at the door and turned.
"What?"
He looked at her. The previous owner had stared at this woman like she was the last precious thing in a dying world. Ethan only saw someone who walked into an injured man’s apartment, took his only food, complained, and never once asked if he would live through the night.
"Nothing. Just thinking about how some things aren’t worth it."
She frowned, decided she didn’t care, and pulled out a spare key~the one the original owner had given her. She tossed it onto the floor. It bounced and stopped near his foot.
"You have a broken leg and you’re still trying to simp for me? Try again in your next life."
Bang. The door slammed.
Ethan stared at it for three long seconds, then looked at the key.
Whatever attachment the original owner left behind was gone.
Forget her.
He focused on the system. Five neatly packaged loaves of bread appeared beside him.
He tore one open and took a hard bite. Dry. Crumbs scraped his throat. He swallowed anyway.
It wasn’t good. It wasn’t enough. But it was real.
Five pieces might last two or three days if he rationed. After that? Nothing. He needed medicine. Food. Clean water. And he needed to fix this fucking leg before infection finished what the zombies started.
Morgana’s five-times return wasn’t enough. He needed better targets. Higher Beauty Scores. Higher Rarity.
The system wasn’t asking him to fall in love. It was an investment opportunity. And he intended to squeeze every advantage out of it.
Problem was finding those women. The complex had been hit hard. Fewer living people every day.
Then he heard it.
"Waa... Waa..."
A baby’s cry. Faint. From above.
Soft rhythmic patting followed.
Ethan stared at the ceiling.
They’re still alive?
A single mother had moved in about a week before the fog. Quiet. Kept to herself. The original owner hadn’t spoken to her much, but he remembered her clearly~beautiful. Very beautiful. Figure hard to miss.
Debbie Miller.
Her Beauty Score should be higher than Morgana’s. The return should be better. But her Rarity was still unknown.
A spark of anticipation lit in Ethan’s eyes.
Then he looked at his leg.
The spark died.
He couldn’t fucking walk.
Debbie was upstairs. He was down here bleeding on the floor. Between them was a staircase he couldn’t even crawl up without screaming.
He took another bite of dry bread and stared at the ceiling.
I’ve finally found a promising target.
And I can’t even stand up.
"How the hell am I supposed to do that?"