Knock. Knock. Knock.
The heavy knocking dragged Ethan out of a deep, exhausted sleep.
Pain hit him before he was even fully awake.
A vicious jolt shot through his right leg, tearing through the fog in his head and leaving a cold sheen of sweat across his back and chest. His breath caught. For a second the room spun.
Ethan’s eyes snapped open.
For a moment he had no idea where he was.
Then everything came back in a rush.
The Apocalypse.
The broken leg.
The system.
The dry bread still sitting on the floor from earlier.
He clenched his teeth and slowly looked around.
The apartment was pitch-black. Only a thin strip of moonlight slipped through the gap in the curtains, barely enough to outline the edge of the bed and the shape of the door. Somewhere in the distance a zombie let out a long, guttural roar that echoed through the empty complex.
Then came another knock.
Weaker this time.
"Is anyone there?"
A woman’s voice.
Barely above a whisper.
"Please... open the door."
Ethan’s expression shifted.
"My child... she’s starving."
The woman’s voice cracked on the last word. There was something raw in it that made him pause. A mother’s desperation, the kind that didn’t care about pride or safety anymore.
Ethan slowly pushed himself upright.
Pain exploded through his broken leg. His vision blurred. Black spots danced across his eyes, forcing him to grab the wall and breathe through it until they faded.
Who is it?
Then he heard it.
A baby’s faint, weak cry.
Ethan froze.
That voice.
Debbie Miller.
The woman upstairs.
She was still alive.
He looked toward the door.
Going outside was dangerous. His leg was shattered, he was weak from blood loss, and there was no guarantee the hallway was clear. Opening that door could easily get him killed.
But the knocking grew weaker.
So did the baby’s cries.
"Please..."
Another soft, tired knock.
"My baby hasn’t eaten..."
Ethan closed his eyes for a second.
He wasn’t heartless.
But there was another reason he couldn’t ignore her.
The system.
If Debbie met its requirements, giving her something might be his only real chance to get out of this mess.
He had nothing left to lose.
Fuck it.
He was taking the gamble.
Ethan braced one hand against the wall and slowly dragged himself toward the door.
Every movement sent another wave of pain through his leg. His jaw locked. Sweat ran down the side of his neck.
Step.
Drag.
Pause.
Breathe.
Step.
Drag.
By the time he reached the door, the back of his shirt was soaked through. He leaned against the wall, breathing hard, and carefully looked through the narrow gap beside the doorframe.
The hallway was almost completely dark.
A sliver of moonlight spilled through a broken window at the far end, just enough to reveal a figure crouched near his door.
A woman.
She wore thin black pajamas that clung to her body after what must have been a long, sleepless night. Her hair was a mess, dark strands sticking to her damp cheeks. Dirt and tear tracks mixed together on her pale skin. She held a small bundle tightly against her chest, arms wrapped protectively around it.
Even in the dim light, Ethan could see the soft, full shape of her breasts pressing against the thin fabric of her top. They rose and fell with every shaky breath she took, soft and heavy, the kind of natural curves that moved with her instead of against her. The pajamas did little to hide them. Soft. Full. The sort of chest a man noticed even when he was trying not to.
Her entire body trembled.
The infant in her arms barely moved.
Then the system sounded.
[Ding! Gift target detected: Debbie Miller, 27 years old, Beauty Score: 95.]
Ethan’s pupils contracted.
95.
That was considerably higher than Morgana’s 88.
If Beauty Score affected the Base Return, then this woman was already several levels above the so-called goddess next door.
How high will the return be?
His eyes remained on Debbie.
She slowly raised her head.
Her eyes were bloodshot and sunken from exhaustion. Fear was written all over her face.
"Please..."
Her voice was hoarse, almost gone.
"I saw you come back earlier with a can of formula."
She swallowed hard.
"Please. I’ll trade with you."
Her shaking hand slipped into her pocket.
She pulled out half a bag of hardtack biscuits.
The biscuits looked old and dry. Probably one of the last things she had left.
She held them toward the crack in the door.
"I’ll give you these."
Her voice trembled.
"Just... please give me some formula."
Tears slipped down her cheeks, catching the faint moonlight.
"My milk isn’t enough."
She looked down at the baby with a broken expression.
"She hasn’t eaten enough for days."
The infant let out another weak whimper.
"She’s getting weaker."
Ethan’s gaze shifted toward the corner of his apartment.
The can of infant formula was still there, left over from the original owner’s last desperate trip.
He didn’t hesitate.
He dragged himself toward it, grabbed the can, and slowly made his way back.
His leg screamed with every movement.
He ignored it.
When he reached the door again, he unlocked the bolt and opened it only a crack.
Cold night air rushed inside, carrying the unmistakable stench of decay from the hallway.
Debbie flinched and pulled the baby closer to her soft chest. Her eyes darted toward Ethan, then toward the dark hallway behind her.
She was terrified.
Ethan didn’t say anything.
He simply pushed the can of formula through the opening.
Debbie stared at it.
Then at him.
"For the child," Ethan said.
His voice was rough from disuse and pain.
He glanced at the hardtack still clutched in her hand.
"Keep those."
Debbie froze.
Her fingers tightened around the formula can.
"You’re... giving it to me?"
Ethan nodded once.
"In this world?"
Her voice was barely audible.
Ethan shrugged, the motion small and tired.
"Your kid needs it more than I do."
Debbie stared at him.
For a second she didn’t seem to know how to react.
Then her eyes reddened further.
She quickly lowered her head, shoulders shaking.
"Thank you."
The words came out broken.
A tear rolled down her cheek and disappeared into the soft curve of her chest.
Ethan didn’t respond.
The system chimed.
[Ding! Gift accepted.]
[Target: Debbie Miller]
[Age: 27]
[Beauty Score: 95]
[Rarity: 99]
[First Gift detected. Base Return unlocked.]
[Base Return: 50x]
[Strong emotional response detected.]
[Bonus Drop activated.]
[Reward: Minor Recovery Potion x5]
[Stored in Temporary Storage.]
[Target cooldown: 7 days.]
Ethan’s eyes widened.
50x.
And a Bonus Drop.
Five Minor Recovery Potions.
His heartbeat hammered against his ribs.
Fifty times?
One can of formula had given him five recovery potions.
And unlike Morgana’s five pieces of bread, these weren’t ordinary supplies.
These could save his life.
Before Ethan could process it, a roar suddenly tore through the hallway around the corner.
"Rrrrgh!"
His expression changed instantly.
Heavy footsteps followed.
One.
Two.
Then several more.
Ethan’s blood ran cold.
Zombies.
And they were coming this way.
"Shit!"
Debbie spun toward the sound.
The color drained from her face.
She instinctively wrapped both arms tighter around the baby, pressing the small body against her soft breasts as if she could shield it with her own flesh.
The footsteps grew louder.
Closer.
Ethan didn’t hesitate.
"Get inside!"
Debbie froze for half a second.
"Now!"
He reached through the gap, grabbed her arm, and pulled.
Debbie stumbled forward, clutching the baby against her chest. The soft weight of her breasts shifted with the sudden movement as she fell into the apartment.
Ethan threw his weight backward.
The door swung open wider.
He dragged both of them inside and slammed it shut.
BANG!
He immediately threw the bolt across.
BANG!
The entire door shook.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Something slammed into it from the other side.
Zombie roars filled the hallway, wet and hungry.
The metal door trembled violently in its frame.
Debbie collapsed onto the floor near the wall.
She hugged the baby tightly against her soft chest, her entire body shaking. The thin fabric of her pajamas stretched across the full, heavy curves of her breasts as she curled protectively around the child.
The infant began crying again.
A weak, frightened sound.
Ethan leaned heavily against the door.
His breathing was ragged.
His broken leg felt like it was on fire.
Another impact shook the door.
BANG!
The hinges groaned.
Ethan’s jaw tightened.
That won’t hold forever.
He needed the potion.
Now.
[Retrieve returned items.]
The thought had barely formed when five small glass vials appeared on the floor beside him.
Each contained a pale green liquid that caught the faint moonlight.
Ethan grabbed one immediately.
The vial was cool against his palm.
He pulled the cork free and drank.
The liquid was slightly bitter, with a faint herbal taste that lingered on his tongue.
For half a second, nothing happened.
Then~
Pain exploded through his leg.
"AGH!"
Ethan dropped the empty vial.
It felt like thousands of needles were being driven through his bones at once. His entire body convulsed. He hit the floor hard, curling instinctively around his injured leg.
"Argh!"
His muscles tightened violently.
Sweat poured from his forehead and soaked into the floor.
His veins stood out beneath his skin.
Something shifted inside his leg.
The broken bones moved.
Reset.
Mend.
Crack.
Crack.
Crack.
The pain was unbearable.
His vision blurred.
The world spun.
Then everything went black.
He didn’t know how much time passed.
A faint sense of warmth slowly pulled Ethan back toward consciousness.
The pain was still there.
But it had changed.
The unbearable agony was gone.
In its place was a deep, dull soreness that felt almost... manageable.
Ethan’s eyelids fluttered.
He opened his eyes.
Morning light filtered through the curtains, soft and gray.
For a few seconds he simply stared at the ceiling.
Then he remembered.
His leg.
Ethan slowly moved it.
His eyes widened.
It moved.
He immediately pushed himself upright.
The motion still hurt, but there was no sharp, bone-splitting pain.
He pulled the blanket away.
The grotesque bend was gone.
In its place was a long, dark-red scar running across his skin where the break had been.
Ethan stared.
The bone had healed.
Completely.
His breathing quickened.
That potion...
A Minor Recovery Potion had repaired a shattered leg.
Ethan flexed his ankle carefully.
It worked.
He clenched his fist.
A slow grin spread across his face.
For the first time since waking up in this world, he felt like he might actually have a chance.
Then he noticed Debbie.
She was curled up against the wall on the far side of the room, the baby sleeping peacefully in her arms. Her head rested against the wall, dark hair falling across one cheek. The thin black pajamas still clung to her body, the soft, full shape of her breasts rising and falling gently with each slow breath. Even exhausted and dirty, the natural curves of her body were impossible to ignore~soft, heavy, and warm-looking in the morning light.
She looked completely drained.
Faint tear tracks remained on her cheeks.
But she was asleep.
So was the baby.
Ethan looked at them for a long moment.
This woman...
A faint smile touched his lips.
She’s worth investing in.
Not just because of her Beauty Score.
Not just because of her Rarity of 99.
Debbie had shown him something the system couldn’t measure.
Character.
Unlike Morgana, she hadn’t begged for herself.
Every word out of her mouth had been about the baby.
Ethan leaned back against the bed frame.
And judging by what he’d seen in the original owner’s memories... and what he’d just seen with his own eyes...
Her appearance certainly didn’t hurt either.
A distant zombie growl drifted through the building, low and constant.
Ethan’s smile faded.
He looked toward the door.
The Apocalypse hadn’t changed.
Zombies were still outside.
Food was still scarce.
His apartment was still barely secure.
But things were different now.
His leg was healed.
He had a working system.
Four more Minor Recovery Potions waited in Temporary Storage.
And he had gained his first real ally.
Ethan looked at Debbie and her sleeping child one more time.
For the first time since waking up in this world, he wasn’t completely helpless.
Maybe things were finally starting to go his way.