Mason wasn't completely out of food.
He still had a few packs of instant ramen left—three, to be precise, tucked away in his gym bag in a plastic grocery sack he'd tied shut to keep the smell from escaping.
But he couldn't bring himself to eat them. Couldn't even think about eating them without feeling like he was committing some kind of betrayal.
Those noodles weren't for him. They were reserved—like a sacred treasure, like a holy offering—for the girl he called his goddess.
To everyone else at Hudson State, Mason was just a cocky jock, a hot-headed bully with delusions of being a hero. He strutted around campus like he owned it, picking fights, talking trash, making himself as visible and loud as possible.
But behind that image, beneath all the bravado and bluster, he was just a hopeless simp—a man completely and utterly devoted to someone who barely acknowledged his existence.
His Goddess
The girl he worshipped was Zara, the tall, athletic track star with legs that turned heads everywhere she went—impossibly long, perfectly toned, the kind of legs that made her look like she was gliding rather than walking.
She was beautiful in that effortless way that drove men crazy: minimal makeup, hair usually pulled back in a practical ponytail, focused entirely on her sport with single-minded determination. She held the university record for the 400-meter dash and was being scouted by national teams.
They'd grown up together in the same small town, attended the same schools from kindergarten through high school before both ending up at Hudson State. Mason had been chasing after her since grade school—ten years of loyalty, devotion, and humiliation.
Ten years of "no thank you," "I'm not interested," "please stop following me," and "we're just friends."
But Zara had never given him the time of day, not really. She was polite about it, at least—never cruel or mocking like some girls might have been. But she made her disinterest crystal clear, maintaining firm boundaries that Mason consistently ignored or misinterpreted.
It wasn't until the world ended, when the two of them found themselves stranded in an abandoned high school swimming complex adjacent to the university, that Mason finally caught the smallest glimmer of hope.
Surviving together, day after day, trapped in the same building with no one else around—she had no choice but to lean on him. She had to talk to him, had to accept his help, had to acknowledge his existence in a way she'd never done before.
And Mason, ever the loyal dog, cared for her relentlessly. He found food, purified what water he could, kept watch while she slept, offered her his jacket when the nights got cold after the heating system failed.
That was enough for him. That tiny bit of dependence, that small amount of need—it was more than he'd ever gotten from her in ten years of trying.
So now, even if he had to drink polluted rainwater that made his stomach cramp, even if he had to chew moldy crackers that tasted like cardboard and poison, Mason would rather starve than let his goddess go hungry.
Clutching the last few packs of ramen like priceless gold, cradling them against his chest with both arms as if they might disappear if he wasn't careful, he left the storage room and walked toward Zara.
She sat against the pool bleachers, her long legs stretched out in front of her, still wearing her track uniform—shorts and a tank top that showed how thin she'd become over the past five days. Her collarbones were too prominent now, her face gaunt.
Mason's chest swelled with determination as he approached, his heart pounding harder than it did during any wrestling match.
Tonight, he would give it all to her. Every last pack. Every last meal he had.
Because that's what love meant, wasn't it? Sacrifice. Devotion. Putting someone else first, no matter the cost.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the campus, in his small apartment that had become a fortress of supplies, Elric was also preparing to eat.
But unlike Mason, unlike Liam, unlike the desperate masses huddled in various buildings across campus, he wasn't desperate enough to touch contaminated food. Wasn't even close to that level of desperation.
Instead, he pulled out his portable rice cooker—a small, single-serve model he'd bought for his apartment last year—and plugged it into a scavenged power bank, one of three he'd fully charged before the power grid failed.
He started cooking a steaming pot of Louisiana-style shrimp ramen, the expensive kind with real dehydrated shrimp and Cajun seasoning, adding in frozen dumplings he'd managed to trade for earlier from another student who'd needed medicine.
When the rich aroma filled the small dorm room—garlic, butter, paprika, and seafood mixing together in a mouthwatering combination—Elric ate in peace, savoring each bite, letting the warmth spread through his body.
By the time he finished, his stomach was full, genuinely satisfied, and his energy had returned completely. He felt strong, alert, ready for whatever the afternoon might bring.
Just then, as he was rinsing out his bowl in the last bit of clean water from his sink, a woman's voice called from outside the hall.
"Elric! Where are you?"
His ears perked up instantly, his body going still. That voice—he'd recognize it anywhere, even muffled through the door and down the corridor.
Natasha.
His eyes lit up with something between satisfaction and anticipation. She had come to him. Finally. Just as he'd known she would.
"Professor Natasha, I'm here," Elric replied, setting down the bowl and stepping toward the door with measured, deliberate steps.
When he opened it, she stood there in the dim corridor, calling his name softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
And the sight of her nearly made him lose composure.
She wore a fitted blazer over a white blouse—silk, if he wasn't mistaken, with buttons that caught what little light filtered through the emergency lighting. The blazer was tailored, emphasizing her figure in ways her usual conservative professor attire never did.
Below that, a pleated skirt swayed around her thighs, shorter than anything he'd ever seen her wear to class. Black fishnet stockings covered her legs, the pattern creating mesmerizing geometric shadows. Heels—sleek, professional, but clearly scuffed from walking the ruined campus—completed the ensemble.
The sharp lines of her glasses framed her face, highlighting an elegance that was both intellectual and devastatingly sexy. Her hair, usually pulled back in a severe bun, was loose around her shoulders.
Any man in his right mind would have crumbled at the sight. Would have invited her in immediately, offered her everything she wanted, fallen over himself to please her.
But Elric was no longer just any man. His mindset had changed.
The Desperate Plea
"Elric… can I come in?" Natasha's voice was low, almost pleading, each word careful and measured. "I'm starving…"
Her cheeks were flushed, whether from embarrassment or fever he couldn't tell. Her tone was delicate, vulnerable in a way that made his chest tighten with something he couldn't quite name.
For a teacher to stand like this before her student, voice trembling with vulnerability, dressed in clothes clearly chosen to appeal rather than to command respect—it made her feel unbearably embarrassed. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to turn around, to run, to preserve what little dignity she had left.
But her empty stomach didn't care about dignity. The cramps that doubled her over at night didn't care about propriety. The weakness in her limbs that made climbing stairs an ordeal didn't care about professional boundaries.
She couldn't run away. Not now. Not when this was her only chance.
If she wanted to live, she had to please Elric—had to convince him to feed her, had to make herself valuable enough that he'd want to keep her alive.
[Room.]
In an instant, Elric activated his ability. Invisible to Natasha but clear as day to him.
The space around them shimmered with energy, invisible boundaries snapping into place, creating a domain where his senses were heightened, where nothing could hide from his perception.
He scanned Natasha thoroughly—no weapons concealed in her clothing, no tricks hidden in her purse, no signs of disease or contamination. Only hunger, weakness, and hesitation. Her vitals displayed in his vision: heart rate elevated, blood pressure low, signs of dehydration and malnutrition evident.
"Alright," he said at last, nodding slowly as he stepped aside. "Come in, Professor."
Inside
Natasha exhaled in relief, the tension draining from her shoulders, and stepped inside quickly before he could change his mind.
The smell hit her immediately—shrimp ramen and dumplings still lingering in the air like a phantom feast. Her stomach growled loud enough for both of them to hear, a embarrassingly visceral sound that made her flush even deeper.
"Is that… shrimp ramen?" she gasped softly, her eyes widening as they darted around the apartment. "You're eating shrimp ramen and dumplings in here?"
Her gaze locked onto the half-finished bowl on the desk, the broth still steaming slightly. Even if they were leftovers, even if it was just the dregs at the bottom of the bowl, her mouth watered uncontrollably. She wanted nothing more than to snatch them up and eat like a starving child, dignity be damned.
But before she could act, before she could even take another step toward that beautiful, tantalizing bowl, Elric's voice cut through her haze.
"Professor Natasha," he said, his tone calm but firm, carrying an edge of command that made her freeze in place. "Since you came to me… that means you've accepted my terms, right?"
Her lips parted, her face turning red—not the flush of hunger now, but something deeper, more complicated. Shame, perhaps. Or resignation.
"Elric… maybe we could… slow down." The words came out in a rush, desperate, pleading. "We can spend time together, get to know each other, build something real before we… before we take that step."
It was a last-ditch attempt to preserve something, anything—some illusion that this was a relationship rather than a transaction, that she had some agency left.
But before she could finish, before she could even complete the thought, Elric moved.
With a sudden motion that betrayed his enhanced speed and strength, he grabbed both her wrists in one hand and pinned them against the wall above her head.
His body pressed close to hers, not threatening exactly, but overwhelming—making it clear who held the power in this exchange, who would dictate the terms.
Natasha gasped, her eyes wide behind her glasses.
And in that moment, she understood exactly what kind of world they were living in now.
There will be 10 chapters/week chapters, in my patreon. If you are interested can check it out.
patreon.com/B_A_3439