'While some chew on steamed potatoes cursing their luck, others will be feasting and laughing. And that emotional divide will inevitably reflect in their efficiency.'
Aphelious, still wearing his friendly smile, tilted his head.
"Hmm, I'm not sure what you mean. Pre-prepared food, you say? Is there such a thing?"
"What? Are you messing with me right now?" the tattooed man snapped.
"I'm not. No one has any pre-prepared food," Aphelious said firmly, his tone unwavering.
The tattooed man ground his teeth, interpreting this as mockery. The other survivors weren't faring much better, their expressions darkening. But Justin caught onto the subtle meaning in Aphelious's words and quickly opened his inventory.
'No one has pre-prepared food, huh?'
He rummaged through his bag, where he had stashed some preserved food, just in case. Pulling it out, he was met with a startling discovery.
"What the…?" Justin muttered.
