"Ugh!"
Grace's stomach growled loudly—a prolonged, gurgling sound that seemed to echo in the relative quiet of the room.
The noise drew the immediate attention of everyone present, all eyes turning toward her simultaneously.
Her face flushed crimson, the red spreading from her cheeks down her neck. She immediately covered her mouth with both hands as if that could somehow retroactively silence the betrayal of her body. The embarrassment was obvious, written across every inch of her expression—and yet, no one blamed her. How could they?
She hadn't eaten properly in two days—barely anything beyond stale crackers and contaminated water that had made her sick. She had witnessed her husband's brutal death, his body broken and bleeding. She'd run for her life through corridors filled with horrors. And she had barely slept, maybe three hours total in the past forty-eight hours.
The exhaustion had drained every bit of energy from her body, leaving her running on fumes and desperation. So when she saw the supplies in Elric's room—the stacks of food, the bottles of water, the promise of actual sustenance—her stomach betrayed her instinctively, crying out for what it desperately needed.
"Wow… that's really embarrassing," Grace muttered under her breath, wishing she could disappear into the floor.
"It's nothing yet—you're just thinking about food?" Jenna teased, her voice still carrying that sharp, sarcastic tone that had become her trademark. There was an edge to it, a barely concealed cruelty.
Natasha, sitting beside Grace on the worn couch, couldn't help but smirk quietly behind her hand. She had watched this whole scene unfold with great interest, expecting Grace to hesitate or even reject her suggestion outright. She'd been ready to enjoy a little chaos, maybe even some drama.
But surprisingly, Grace had agreed almost immediately after Natasha had spoken, without the prolonged moral anguish Natasha had anticipated.
What a ruthless, practical woman! Natasha thought with mixed admiration and concern. She just took the opportunity without hesitation, no wasted time mourning or deliberating. I guess her status will be high in this group, maybe even higher than mine in the future… Ugh, I hate it!
The realization made her competitive instinct flare.
Jenna, always resentful of Natasha's perceived position as "first wife" or primary companion, naturally took her frustration out on the newcomer instead.
"I… I'm sorry," Jenna muttered, though the words were half reluctant, forced out more by social expectation than genuine remorse.
Grace didn't dare to respond with anything defensive. She knew her position—she understood social dynamics well enough from years in academia.
As the last one to arrive, as the newest addition to this strange survival group, she was automatically the lowest in rank here. That was just how things worked, apocalypse or not.
For the sake of her survival, for the food and protection she desperately needed, she swallowed her pride like bitter medicine.
"Alright," Elric said flatly. "Don't say anything more. Just eat. Fill your stomach first."
Jenna's constant chatter had been grating on his nerves increasingly, and Elric's golden eyes—glinted coldly as he glanced at her with barely concealed irritation.
This one… she's been irritating lately. Too much talking, too much attitude. I'll have to deal with her eventually, put her in her place; otherwise, she'll just keep getting under my skin and disrupting the group dynamic.
"I want to take a shower," Elric announced abruptly, standing up. "You three will sleep in the other bedroom tonight."
The statement was delivered without room for negotiation or discussion.
With that, he left for the bathroom without waiting for responses. He still had the layer of grime from the day's battles coating his skin—dried sweat, dust.
He wanted to cleanse himself thoroughly with the mineral water from his vast stash.
"Ugh… so annoying. I have to deal with the two of you again," Jenna complained as she headed toward the side bedroom, her voice carrying petulant frustration. She left Natasha and Grace behind in the main area.
Natasha didn't respond to the complaint. She busied herself with unpacking the emergency rations they'd gathered, preparing some instant noodles for Grace with practiced efficiency.
"Grace, eat quickly," Natasha said gently, her tone shifting to something almost maternal as she passed over the steaming bowl. "You need to recover your strength."
"Thank you, Natasha," Grace replied, her voice thick with genuine gratitude. She ignored the awkward tension that still lingered in the room like smoke. She was too exhausted, too hungry to think about anything else beyond the food in front of her.
She hungrily dug into the noodles, burning her tongue slightly in her haste but not caring. The pain was nothing compared to the gnawing emptiness that had consumed her for days.
Within ten minutes—probably a record—Grace had finished two packs of instant noodles, three ham sausages that Natasha produced from somewhere, and two braised eggs that were still miraculously preserved.
For the first time since the disaster had started, since that first day when the toxic fog rolled in and everything changed, she felt truly full. Not just less hungry—actually satiated, her stomach no longer cramping.
In the past days, she had scavenged whatever scraps were left behind in abandoned offices and dorm rooms, barely surviving on leftover crackers and questionable water. But now, with Elric, Natasha, and Jenna providing a stable source of food and protection, she finally had a sense of security.
Her hunger satisfied, she leaned back against the couch, her breathing slowing, and allowed herself a moment of genuine relief.
Elric, from the bathroom where he could hear everything through enhanced senses, noticed the faint quiet of contentment settling over the room.
Good, he thought, letting hot water—impossibly hot—cascade over his shoulders. The first step of survival is always food. Once they are fed properly, they'll start thinking clearly—and that's when real preparation and planning can begin.
Outside the apartment, the fog still lingered like a patient predator, and the threat of the tentacles hadn't fully passed. The cocoon was merely resting, not defeated.
But for now, inside the fortified dorm room with its barricaded doors and windows, they had a small reprieve. A moment to breathe.
Grace finally dared to look around at the two women beside her with something other than fear or desperation. Despite the chaos, despite everything that had happened, she felt a flicker of hope rekindling in her chest.
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