"Thank you so much for your help. In a few days, when the Governnt cos to rescue us, you can co with us."
Jack Coleman smiled as he glanced at Yasin's face. Though his upbringing taught him to remain polite, deep down, he held an ingrained sense of superiority. However, his deanor was carefully practiced, exuding warmth and approachability rather than open disdain.
In this era, discrimination was rampant. Many among the privileged saw those of different ethnic backgrounds as inferior, relics of a past where certain groups were rely laborers or servants. Despite the changing tis, such biases remained deeply rooted.
"Hello, sir. Nice to et you. Do you have anything to eat?"
Lena Whitmore extended a graceful hand toward Yasin.
"We haven't eaten in two days. We're starving. Could you get us sothing to eat? Thank you."
Yasin shook her hand briefly. Her skin was incredibly smooth, delicate, and soft to the touch—so much so that in another lifeti, he might have been thrilled beyond words.
But in this world, none of that mattered anymore. A beautiful woman was still just a survivor trying to stay alive. Celebrity status ant nothing when the world had crumbled around them.
Yasin retrieved two pieces of bread and two bottles of water from the fridge, handing them over as he asked casually, "How did you end up here? Have you co across any other survivors?"
"We have a vacation ho nearby. When the outbreak started, we were staying there. A few days ago, we ran out of food, so we had no choice but to leave and try our luck. According to the ergency broadcasts, the military has set up a safe zone in Los Angeles. If we can make it there, we'll be fine. But as soon as we left, we ran into a swarm of those things. The car crashed..."
Jack spoke calmly, his manner polished and composed even in the direst of circumstances. His firefighter's axe lay within arm's reach, but his posture was relaxed as he took asured bites of bread.
Good breeding and discipline ant they maintained their composure even in the face of starvation. Even in the apocalypse, Lena and Jack still carried themselves with elegance and poise.
"You're the first survivor we've encountered," Jack continued, studying Yasin with keen eyes. "What about you, friend? Why are you here? This house... doesn't seem like it belongs to you."
There was nothing outright hostile in his tone, but Yasin could sense the skepticism behind the polite words.
"Well... of course, this is my house. It's just that... I'm not very familiar with it yet," Yasin hesitated. Truthfully, he had appeared here out of nowhere and had no idea whether this place was actually his or not.
"In tis like these, it makes sense to take shelter wherever you can," Lena said, sipping from her bottle of water. Her expression was neutral, but there was sothing about the way she spoke—sothing dismissive.
Clearly, neither of them truly believed this ho belonged to Yasin.
To them, he was just another desperate survivor who had stumbled into an abandoned luxury house.
That assumption didn't surprise Yasin. The way they carried themselves, the subtle glances they exchanged, their overall deanor—it all spoke volus. They had already made up their minds about him.
At that mont, Yasin finally took a proper look at Lena Whitmore.
Her complexion was flawless, her striking blue eyes frad by golden locks of hair. Dressed in a deep red cocktail dress, she looked like a vision from a bygone era of glitz and glamour.
She wasn't just wearing the dress—the dress was wearing her.
In a world that had fallen apart, she still carried the aura of a woman who had once commanded the attention of millions.
No wonder people used to say that even standing next to her, Jack Coleman—Hollywood's beloved leading man—seed like an afterthought.
"Sir, we've been starving for two days. This isn't enough to fill us up. Could you get us so more? If you have steak and wine, that would be even better," Lena added, crossing her long, toned legs as she leaned back against the couch.
The movent was effortless, practiced. And from Yasin's angle, he caught an unintentional glimpse beneath the folds of her dress—a flash of delicate pink lace.
Yasin cleared his throat. "There's steak and wine in the fridge, but the power's been out for too long. I can't guarantee the at hasn't spoiled."
He pointed toward the kitchen. "If you're hungry, help yourselves. I have sothing to take care of upstairs."
With that, he turned and walked away, forcing himself not to glance back.
The most urgent task now was to figure out the purpose of the Two-Worlds King System that had just appeared in his mind.
Additionally, he needed to find a proper weapon. The wooden stick in his hand wouldn't be enough to ensure his survival in this apocalyptic world.
The mory of Jack Coleman's arrogant, disdainful gaze and the fire axe in his hand made Yasin's stomach churn with discomfort.
Though both Jack and Lena had treated him with surface-level politeness, their innate superiority and wariness had made Yasin feel inferior.
And then there was the glimpse of Lena Whitmore's red lingerie, which had sent an illicit thrill through him.
Seeing the way they carried themselves, Yasin couldn't help but feel a growing resentnt.
In the peaceful world of the past, Yasin might have accepted that he was only fit to serve people like them—if he was even lucky enough to get the chance.
But this was the apocalypse.
Yasin's eyes darkened, a cold hatred settling in his chest.
"System, can you hear ?"
Back in his locked bedroom, Yasin attempted to communicate with the system.
[Yes, master. You may call Noah.]
A soft, feminine voice echoed in his mind.
Yasin glanced around, confirming that no one else was present. The voice was definitely coming from within his own head.
Excitent surged through him.
With a powerful system on his side, ruling this ruined world wasn't just a fantasy—it was a real possibility.
"Noah, explain your functions."
[Data corruption detected~~~ Processing~~~ Host must eliminate more infected to recharge energy~~~ Interference~~~]
"So the system is damaged... I need to recharge it imdiately."
Disappointed but determined, Yasin recalled the strange energy he had absorbed after killing the infected earlier.
If eliminating one of them had restored 10% of the system's energy, then he only needed to kill nine more to fully activate it.
That didn't seem too difficult.
"First priority—kill more infected to recharge the system and figure out what it can do."
Yasin paced restlessly, his mind racing.
Without the system, surviving as an ordinary man in this hellscape would be nearly impossible.
He had to unlock its potential as soon as possible, using it to gain every advantage he could.
anwhile, downstairs, Jack and Lena were celebrating as they rummaged through the refrigerator.
"This should be enough to last us until the military arrives!" Jack said excitedly, pulling Lena into an embrace. "They've already set up a safe zone in Los Angeles—plenty of food, water, and ard protection. It's only a matter of ti before they co for survivors like us!"
He didn't even consider sharing the supplies with Yasin.
In Jack's mind, a man like Yasin didn't deserve to live off their resources.
"Jack... that man gives a bad feeling," Lena murmured, her delicate features twisting in disgust. "The way he looks at ... it's unsettling."
She couldn't stand the idea of sharing a roof with soone like him—a low-class outsider who might sneak glances at her when she wasn't looking.
Worse, she couldn't shake the fear that he might try to take advantage of her.
"Darling, this is the apocalypse. Anything could happen," Jack said darkly. "I won't let so stranger live off our supplies. Especially not soone like him."
"But what if he tries sothing?" Lena pressed, her voice trembling. "People like him... without laws or consequences, who knows what he's capable of?"
Jack's grip tightened on the fire axe.
"Don't worry. If he even thinks about laying a hand on you, I'll split his skull open," he growled. "A weak little man like him won't stand a chance."
Reassured, Lena relaxed slightly. In this brutal new world, she needed a man's protection—and Jack was more than capable.
She pulled out two vacuum-sealed steaks and a bottle of red wine, her mood lifting.
"Thank God these haven't spoiled!" she said, smiling as she turned on the gas stove. "Let's have a proper al, just like old tis."
Soon, the rich aroma of seared steak filled the air. They lit candles, poured wine, and lost themselves in the montary luxury—kissing, touching, their bodies growing hotter with each passing second.
It had been days since they'd last been intimate. The constant fear of death and gnawing hunger had killed any desire.
But now, with full stomachs and a safe haven, their urges ca rushing back.
"Jack... it's been too long," Lena whispered, her fingers tracing his jawline.
His hand slid up her smooth thigh, slipping beneath her red lace panties. She was already wet, her body aching for him.
Just as their passion reached its peak—
THUD.
A noise from upstairs killed the mood instantly.
Jack's face twisted in irritation.
"Damn it," he muttered, pulling away. "I'm not letting that bastard catch even a glimpse of you."
Lena, frustrated but equally wary, sighed.
"Then we need to get rid of him," she said coldly. "Every mouth we feed is another risk. And the way he looks at ... it makes my skin crawl."
Jack's fingers still lingered between her thighs, but his mind was already elsewhere—plotting.
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