At this moment, in Villa 104.
Miles lay prone on the skylight of the second floor, a Type 54 pistol in his hand. He smirked, "So this is what shooting feels like. The aim's not great—definitely need practice."
That first shot? His doing.
But his skills were rusty, and he missed Tyler. Tyler's return shot was no better, missing Andrew entirely, despite the close range.
Yet Miles felt no regret. Killing Andrew outright would be far too merciful; he wanted Andrew to suffer, trapped in the agony of life without reprieve.
With the sudden eruption of gunfire, the brawl quickly descended into chaos. Many lay dead within minutes, and with their bullets spent, Andrew and Tyler resorted to brutal hand-to-hand combat.
Compared to the street-hardened Andrew, Tyler was no match. Andrew took him down with a single blow, following it up with a relentless barrage of kicks and punches.
"Andrew, I was wrong! Please, have mercy!" Tyler cried, clinging to Andrew's leg in a desperate plea for his life.
"Pathetic." Andrew spat in Tyler's face, sneering. "Dare to mess with me again? Well? Are you?"
"N-No… never again!"
Bruised and battered, with three of his teeth knocked out, Tyler's words were garbled as he stammered, "I'll send you all the supplies, Andrew—everything."
"Send them? You think I'm an idiot?" Andrew scoffed, smirking. "You'd just try to run."
"No, no… I wouldn't dare…"
Ignoring Tyler's begging, Andrew gestured to his men. "Come on, let's clean out his stash. As for that bastard Miles… I'll deal with him later."
Both Andrew and Tyler had been royally set up by Miles, and though Andrew's men had the upper hand in the fight, the brutal cold took its toll on them too.
Miles's fortress-like villa was impenetrable. Even with over three hundred people attacking it last time, they hadn't managed so much as a scratch on the glass. Andrew knew better than to waste his strength on it. Like Tyler, he would find a way to force Miles out instead.
For now, however, Tyler's hoarded supplies would keep him going for a while longer.
In the courtyard, only a handful of people were left standing. Those who hadn't been killed outright by gunfire or Andrew's men lay injured and helpless, trapped in a place where the slightest wound was a death sentence.
As Andrew dragged Tyler away, the wounded cried out, pleading, "Boss Andrew, take us with you! Please, don't leave us here…"
Immobile and exposed to the deadly cold, they knew they would freeze within half an hour.
"Get lost…" Andrew kicked one man aside. "Got food? If you do, maybe I'll take you with me."
"I do! I have five packs of instant noodles and two bottles of water!" one injured man cried.
"I've got some bread and crackers!"
"Andrew, I have a girlfriend—stunningly beautiful. Save me, and she's yours."
Andrew almost laughed, shaking his head. "You all call yourselves the elite? Bunch of animals… Fine. I'll see just how 'stunning' this girl of yours is."
Leaving behind the wounded who continued to groan and plead, Andrew's group departed.
Inside the villa, the chubby woman from next door huddled in a corner, wide-eyed in terror as she stared at the bodies strewn across the ground. Her hands clamped over her mouth, stifling any sound. Not that she would save anyone even if she could; in times like these, no one played the saint.
...
Miles, watching the scene from his vantage point with a pair of binoculars, smirked coldly.
"Andrew…"
Just then, Ryan returned to the storeroom and found Zeki hunched over a bowl of instant noodles, devouring it.
"Damn you!" Ryan's fury erupted. He stormed over and kicked Zeki against the wall.
"Ow! Ryan, what's wrong with you? Why did you hit me?" Zeki stammered, stunned by the sudden attack, trembling from the pain.
"Why?"
With a thunderous slap, Ryan struck her again and again, fury flashing in his eyes. By the time he stopped, Zeki's eyes had rolled back, barely conscious.
Breathless, he dropped onto the bed, snarling, "You ungrateful wretch! I gave you shelter, food, and you dare try to betray me? Has your conscience been eaten by dogs?"
Ryan, usually gentle and sincere, was now a storm of rage, transformed into a lion ready to maul.
Miles had warned him, advising him to be cautious around Zeki. He hadn't wanted to believe it—how could a woman, so pitiful and lovely, harbor such malice? He had thought that treating her well would earn her gratitude. After all, compared to the cold world outside, his hospitality was nothing short of heaven.
But he had been blind.
The woman who had embraced him the previous night, whispering promises of lifelong gratitude, had turned into a venomous snake the moment he looked away. She had planned to betray him and use him as a pawn to pressure Miles.
Had it not been for Miles's foresight, he might already be dead.
Fueled by righteous fury, Ryan yanked Zeki up by the hair, slapping her across the face repeatedly.
"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry… I made a mistake. Forgive me, Ryan, please!" Zeki pleaded, sobbing.
Upstairs, Miles swirled his wine with satisfaction, observing the scene below. He wondered if this experience would push Ryan to recognize the reality of their world. If Ryan relented, taking pity on Zeki or allowing lust to cloud his judgment, then Miles would have to reconsider keeping him around.
In a world this ruthless, a moment's softness could mean death.
"You can leave," Ryan finally said, his voice icy. "Right now. Get out."
"Ryan, please… I was wrong," Zeki begged, clinging to his leg, desperate and weeping. "Don't make me go. I'll die out there."
Ryan shook her off with a cold glare. "What happens to you is none of my concern. Go, before I decide to kill you myself."
"I won't leave, I won't!"
Frantically, Zeki clawed her way to the bed, clutching onto its frame. "I'll freeze to death out there. I can't go back…"
Ryan's fists clenched. His rage roared within him, his body poised to strike—but he hesitated. Killing her was beyond him; his heart wasn't hardened enough for that.
In this cruel world, human lives had lost their former sanctity, but even now, he couldn't bring himself to cross that final line.