The Apocalypse Hoarder

Cyrus stepped out of his apartment and into a scene of warmth and peace. Parents laughed with their children in the square. Their faces were bright with carefree smiles. He knew better. In a month, this idyllic picture would shatter like glass.

He quickened his pace. Just a short walk away stood a Michelin three-star restaurant. It was a place he had never dared enter. After all, a single meal there cost at least 1,000 dollars..

Today he did not care. He had already died once. If that did not call for celebration, what would?

Inside, Cyrus chose a seat by the window and ordered the most expensive dishes along with a bottle of Chateau Lafite. By the time the waiter left, the bill had already climbed to nearly 10,000 dollars.

The servers eyed him with curiosity and envy, likely taking him for some spoiled heir. What ordinary man would throw away that much money on a single meal?

Cyrus did not bother to explain. When the dishes arrived, filling the table with color and fragrance, he dug in without restraint.

After half a year of freezing to death in the Frostfall, tasting food like this again nearly moved him to tears. He ate ravenously, almost feral, drawing whispers from nearby tables.

He could not care less. They had no idea. When the world collapsed, people would beg on their knees for a single pack of instant noodles. Civilization and morals would vanish overnight.

As Cyrus ate, a woman outside the window stopped short. She was striking, with long hair flowing, immaculate makeup, Gucci heels tapping lightly against the pavement, and a Louis Vuitton bag swinging from her arm.

It was Diana Feynor, the same woman who had once lured him into opening his door only to betray him and watch as others beat him to death. Walking beside her was her closest friend, Natalie Lockwood.

The two often loitered around upscale places like this. Not because they could afford them, but because they hoped to spot some wealthy heir to ensnare.

As expected, Diana's eyes widened when she glanced inside. "Wait, that's Cyrus! How could he possibly afford a place like this?"

Natalie covered her mouth in surprise. "You mean Cyrus has been a rich heir all this time?"

Then she cast Diana a sly look. "Girl, you're lucky. The guy who's chased you for years turns out to be a secret rich heir."

Her gaze flicked to the feast before Cyrus. "Look at that table. That's at least 10 grand. Who else but a rich heir would spend that on dinner?"

Diana pursed her lips as her mind raced. For two and a half years, Cyrus had pursued her without pause. She had never accepted, but she never rejected him either.

To her, he had always been a backup, useful enough to keep close but never worth commitment.

Now doubt crept in. Could he actually be a hidden heir, pretending to be ordinary to test her love? The idea thrilled her. If it were true, she believed all she had to do was nod and he would drop to one knee.

Natalie tugged at her arm. "Let's go in and say hi. Maybe he'll invite us over."

Her real goal was obvious—the food. Most people would never taste three-star Michelin cuisine in their lives.

Diana hesitated, then shook her head. "No. That would make me look like I'm chasing his money. Let's wait outside. If we bump into him, it'll seem natural."

She was not stupid. One meal was not worth ruining her goddess-like image. If Cyrus truly was rich, she would stay firmly on the pedestal, holding all the power.

Therefore, the two women lingered nearby, waiting.

Inside, Cyrus ate until his stomach was round and full. The flavors were not as heavenly as the price suggested, but to a man who had starved through the apocalypse, it was a feast beyond measure.

Next, he planned to stop by the supermarket to test how much his pocket dimension could store. It was better to be cautious now than risk disaster later.

He paid the bill with a wave of his hand and stepped out into the afternoon sun.

A sweet, saccharine voice echoed behind him. "Cyrus! What a coincidence."

He turned to find Diana and Natalie.

Diana tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and exposed the curve of her neck and the pale pink of her earlobe. It was a practiced, subtle move meant to stir a man's heart.

In his past life, it had worked. Not anymore.

Cyrus' eyes went cold. He remembered how she had set him up, had watched while his ribs were broken one by one, and had demanded his bones be boiled into soup.

The world's end was near, so killing her now would not be a problem. His chest tightened with the urge to strike her down.

Diana shivered under his stare. "Cyrus, what's wrong?"

He pulled back, his expression flat. "Nothing. Thought you were someone else."

He changed his mind. Killing her now would be too easy and merciful. The law still mattered for one more month.

It was better to let her live and taste despair first. He had numerous ways to make her die screaming.

For now, survival came first. His priority was to build the safest shelter possible, a fortress against the end of the world.