The Apocalypse Hoarder

Cyrus' attitude toward Diana remained ice-cold. She and Natalie sensed something was off, but after convincing themselves he was secretly a wealthy heir, neither grew angry. Instead, they eagerly closed the distance between them.

So what if rich men had bad tempers? That was just their personality.

"Hey, Cyrus, did you just eat at that restaurant?" Natalie asked, pretending casual curiosity.

Cyrus' brow tightened slightly. He had not forgotten that this woman was as guilty as Diana. She had helped lure him in, leading him to his near-death.

"Yeah." His reply was flat, clipped. He shoved his hands in his pockets, turned, and headed for the supermarket.

The two women hurried after him.

"Cyrus, where are you going?" Diana asked with a sweet smile.

"The supermarket." His tone remained cold, edged with irritation.

If not for the plan he had in mind—making her taste despair before ending her—he might have struck her on the spot.

Diana shot Natalie a look.

Natalie quickly added, "What a coincidence! We were just about to do some shopping too. Let's go together!"

It clicked instantly. They must have seen him dining at the Michelin-starred restaurant, assumed he was a hidden heir, and were now tripping over themselves to cozy up.

He could not be bothered to explain, so he kept walking.

The more indifferent he acted, the more convinced they became. Only someone with serious money could afford such arrogance.

The two trailed him closely. Diana brushed against his arm from time to time, then pretended to shy away, cheeks pink, as if flustered by the "accidental" touch.

Cyrus sneered inwardly. 'What an actress. If she entered the entertainment industry, she would win Best Actress without question.'

Inside the supermarket, he grabbed a cart and pushed straight toward the food aisles.

The women followed, each taking a cart.

"Were you eating with someone earlier?" Diana asked sweetly.

"I ate alone. Problem?" he replied sharply.

She rushed to explain. "No, no, of course not! I just thought that meal was expensive, so maybe you were hosting someone important."

Natalie blurted, "But your salary's just over two grand a month, right? That dinner cost at least six months' wages. Looks like your family left you more than a little inheritance."

Diana glared at her. 'Idiot! Never ask about money directly. Talk about feelings with the rich, money with the poor.'

Realizing her mistake, Natalie forced a laugh. "I was just kidding! We're all friends here, who cares about money?"

Cyrus ignored them completely. He reached the shelves and stared at the neatly stacked goods, feeling as if he had stumbled into a treasure vault. In his last life, he had stretched a pack of pasta over two days. He knew hunger intimately.

Now, his hunger was for stockpiling.

He began sweeping food into the cart: sausages, pasta, seasonings, and many more. He grabbed them in bulk.

Diana and Natalie stared, dumbfounded.

"Cyrus, why are you buying so much? Going camping or something?"

"Mm." His answer was as bland as ever.

Natalie leaned in to whisper, "Would a real rich heir stock up on this stuff for camping?"

Diana frowned, but the memory of his Michelin-starred feast kept her doubts at bay. She rushed forward eagerly. "Do you need help?"

'A free labor offer. Why refuse?' he thought.

Watching her play the innocent damsel stirred dark amusement in him. A plan began to form. He had one month to prepare for the apocalypse. With his ability and access to Volmart's warehouse, securing supplies was trivial.

But if he let Diana see just enough to think he had a secret stash, she would come crawling when the world collapsed and would beg him to save her. And when she did, he would let her choke on despair before crushing her completely.

Even if she tried to leak news to those vulture-like neighbors, it would not matter. His safehouse would be impregnable.

'Let them come. I will turn their siege into their graves,' he thought with a twisted smile.

Yes. This was worth considering.

He would hire a security firm and build the strongest fortress money could buy. If that failed, he would fall back on Plan B, a hidden underground shelter in the wilderness. They were both solid plans.

"Push the cart for me then," Cyrus said smoothly.

Diana beamed. "Of course!"

He then told Natalie to fetch him another cart. She looked uneasy but obeyed.

They followed him as he piled in long-lasting food: noodles, sausages, cured meats, canned goods. Then he filled another cart with fresh meat, fruits, vegetables, even living fish, to test how his pocket-dimension ability handled perishables.

By the end, his three carts overflowed.

He handed the heaviest, loaded with beef, lamb, and canned goods—over four hundred pounds—to the two women. They staggered under the weight, drenched in sweat.

"Cyrus, who's going to eat all this?" Diana whined with a pout. "Are you hosting some big event?"

Cyrus chuckled darkly. "Storms come without warning. What if the world ended tomorrow? Better to stock up for the worst."

It was true, though who would believe him?

Diana giggled, brushing it off. "If you don't want to say, fine. But you owe me a meal for helping today!"

Her eyes sparkled. She wanted dinner at the Michelin-starred restaurant.

"Sure," Cyrus said with a faint smile. "But I'm busy this month. Next month, then."

Her eyes lit up. "Deal!"

Natalie grinned. "Count me in too!"

Just pushing a cart for a fancy dinner? It was thrilling.

Diana shot her a glare, but Natalie ignored her.

At checkout, Cyrus paid more than 2,000 dollars without hesitation. These supplies were priceless. In the apocalypse, not even a mountain of gold could buy a loaf of bread.

The supermarket let him borrow the carts to wheel everything back. He made no effort to hide his attitude, ordering the two women to push them home. He could have driven and loaded them all himself, but with free labor in front of him, why waste the chance?

They complained nonstop, but the promise of luxury food kept them moving.

Together, they pushed their mountain of supplies through the gates of the residential complex.