"Don't be so picky. This time, on my mission, I brought back plenty of fruits, vegetables, and food from outside the quarantine zone. Tomorrow I'll head to the black market again to trade with those smugglers for some different food—just to give you a change of taste."
Seeing Sarah's expression darken slightly at his stern look, Brian couldn't help but smirk. But he also knew better than to push too far, so he sat down and calmly explained his thoughts:
"For today, you'll just have to make do with this."
When Sarah heard his words, her eyes lit up slightly, and her expression softened a bit. Brian shook his head with a mix of resignation and affection, picked up a sealed strip of dried meat from the table, and—like feeding a small child—gently popped it into her mouth.
"Really?"
Sarah bit into the dried meat Brian offered, swatted his hand away, and began chewing listlessly, as if it were cardboard. With a voice heavy with skepticism, she asked:
"You're really going to bring back more food?"
"Yes! Yes!" Brian replied with a bright smile, wrapping an arm around Sarah's shoulders and ruffling her hair as if comforting her. "I promise you—I promise again and again."
"…"
"Heh, heh…"
Watching the two of them embrace and interact so familiarly, Chen Shi felt as if his heart had taken a direct hit of twelve thousand emotional damage points. The bitterness of being single surged from his chest up to his throat. At that moment, he felt utterly out of place.
Silently, he stuffed the dried meat in his hand into his mouth, grabbed a couple more packets from the table, slowly stood up, and headed toward his room in the quarantine zone. That old study was definitely a far more suitable place for him.
…
"Little brat, get to class already!"
"Sarah, I slipped some cookies into your pocket. If you get hungry, you can snack on them."
After seeing Chen Shi and Sarah off, Brian watched as dawn's light began to brighten the sky once more. Only then did he take out the small wooden box he'd put away the day before and prepare to continue with his plans.
He entered Sector D and, walking with confident familiarity, quickly arrived at the apartment building where Lucy and Daphne lived. He climbed the stairs without pause and, in no time at all, stood before the familiar doors of units 401 and 402.
Knock, knock, knock.
He tapped gently on the door. He had no doubt someone would be inside. Ever since he'd joined the search team—and especially since taking leadership, forming his own convoy, collaborating with smugglers, and redistributing a portion of seized supplies under his own discretion—his group no longer worried about food.
Now, their main objective was to expand their network, gather useful intelligence, and centralize it under his command. This not only kept them informed about developments within the quarantine zone but also gave them a strategic edge to anticipate rebel army movements and avoid being caught in their operations.
Although they no longer struggled to survive, to avoid drawing too much attention, Lucy and Daphne still took turns "going to work," providing a plausible explanation for how they obtained their provisions.
"Brian?"
The door to 402 opened slowly. A gaunt, weary-looking woman peeked out.
When Lucy recognized Brian at the threshold, her eyes widened in surprise. After a brief moment of hesitation, she opened the door fully.
"What are you doing here today?"
"Let's talk inside."
Noting her condition, Brian frowned slightly but nodded and stepped into the apartment, carrying the small wooden box with him.
The interior of the flat had barely changed in the past five years. It remained as sparse as ever. In one corner, a few boxes filled with food were the only signs of relative stability. In the center of the room, a stack of notebooks and an overflowing ashtray sat on the table. A still-burning cigarette rested at the edge, releasing a thin wisp of smoke that curled slowly toward the ceiling.
Brian set the box on the table and sat on the sofa with a gentle smile.
"I got back from a mission two days ago, and when I realized it'd been a while since I last visited you two, I figured I'd drop by to say hello… and maybe strengthen our bonds a little."
"What would you like to drink?" Lucy asked, closing the door behind him. She completely ignored Brian's teasing tone and walked straight to a corner of the room, pulling out a bottle of wine and a can of beer. "Wine or beer?"
"No, no, no! Drinking alcohol this early in the morning?"
Brian waved his hands in refusal, politely declining her offer. Instead, he picked up the water pitcher on the table and poured himself a glass.
"Water's fine for me."
Lucy didn't insist. She put the wine bottle away and, without further ado, popped open the beer can and took a long, deep swig.
Brian took a sip of his water and silently watched Lucy. He saw how, after drinking, an even deeper shadow of sorrow settled over her face. He sighed inwardly. He knew that, even after all this time, she remained trapped in the past—unable to move on from what had happened five years ago on that highway.
At first, everyone assumed her state was temporary—a natural reaction to the pain of losing loved ones. Though they weren't close, they'd shared dangers, fought side by side to survive, and Lucy had even saved Anna at a critical moment. Over time, they'd all grown genuinely fond of her, taking turns trying to cheer her up.
But five years had passed. Even Anna, who'd lost her father in that same incident, had healed and moved forward. Lucy, however, remained exactly the same. Brian rarely saw her smile sincerely; most of the time, her gestures were mere formalities—empty courtesies.
Shaking off those thoughts, Brian turned his gaze to the notebooks neatly arranged on the table. He picked one up at random and saw it was filled with chaotic notes, certain phrases underlined in red—clearly marked for further analysis. It was evident Lucy had been working on it just before his arrival.
"Have you found any useful information lately?"
"No," Lucy replied, glancing at the notebook in Brian's hands. "There are rumors circulating in the zone, but I still need more time to confirm anything concrete."
"I see…"
Brian closed the notebook and returned it to its place. He leaned back on the sofa, feeling a faint sense of disappointment. He knew the rebel army was planning something big, and the lack of leads left him uneasy.
But he also understood he couldn't force things. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his anxiety, and gently pushed the wooden box toward the center of the table.
"Dick gave me this yesterday. He said it contains something important. When Daphne gets back, give it to her, alright?"
"Leave it there. I'll tell her when she returns," Lucy said indifferently, barely glancing at the box. "Anything else?"
Brian didn't answer right away. Instead, he stood up and walked over to the living room window. He threw it wide open, letting a cool breeze flow in and disperse some of the stale smoke lingering in the room.
Gazing outside, he spoke in a calm, measured voice:
"Lucy… it's been five years since we first met."
Lucy, who had been about to raise the beer can to her lips, froze mid-motion. She looked at him, bewildered, not understanding where he was going with this.
"Even though five years have passed, we don't really know each other well. Outside of practical matters, we've never had a close relationship or deep bond."
As if knowing she wouldn't respond, Brian continued without waiting for a reply.
"The truth is… I don't really care what state you're in. But Sarah, Alan, Dick—they already see you as an older sister. They never say it outright, but I can tell. They're genuinely worried about you."
He turned then and looked at her intently, his usual lightness replaced by rare seriousness.
"I don't know why you insist on sinking like this, but you need to understand something: if you keep going like this, you're not just hurting yourself. You're hurting the people who care about you too."
He paused, as if giving those words time to sink in.
"That's all I had to say. Think it over. I'll be organizing a gathering with everyone soon. Let Daphne know. I'll send you the details later."
With that, Brian drained the rest of his water in one gulp, stood up, and walked toward the door without looking back. He closed it gently behind him.
Outside, his expression softened. He turned to face the door, and for a brief moment, a shadow of worry crossed his eyes.
No matter how harsh his words may have sounded, after five years together, it was impossible not to feel something for her. He simply couldn't stand by and watch her waste away in her own grief.
But Brian was never good at expressing emotions—much less at giving heartfelt advice. He'd said all he could. Now, the choice to heal rested solely with Lucy.
Inside the apartment, the soft click of the closing door echoed in the silence. Lucy remained motionless for a long while, staring blankly into space. Finally, she slowly lowered the beer can she still held and let out a deep sigh, heavy with sorrow.
"Ah…" she murmured, her voice barely audible.