"Be cautious. Don't let anyone notice you," Miles warned Ryan as he exhaled deeply, his tone measured but firm.
Ryan responded with a knowing tone, "You should be careful too. People can't be trusted these days..."
The high-pitched female voice he'd overheard on the walkie-talkie was clear. Ryan knew someone else had entered Miles' sanctuary. For a stranger to gain access to such a well-guarded fortress, where even he wasn't fully welcomed, spoke volumes about her significance.
Miles caught Ryan's insinuation and glanced at Lisa. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "You don't have to worry about me. Focus on bringing Cole back. If he's alive, he likely won't last much longer in this environment."
Without further delay, Ryan reached the Cole residence.
Inside, the air was heavy with despair. On the bed lay Cole, lifeless, with visible marks of strangulation around his neck. It was clear he hadn't succumbed to the cold but had been deliberately killed. The body was already stiff, suggesting at least two days had passed since his death.
Ryan's voice was low and apologetic as he reported back through the walkie-talkie, "Miles, I'm sorry. The task… it's impossible. He's gone."
Clang!
Back at the villa, the bowl in Lisa's hand slipped and shattered on the ground.
Miles frowned and asked sharply, "How did he die?"
Ryan sighed. "He was strangled. From the looks of it, it happened at least a couple of days ago. The body's already hardened."
Lisa's tears began to stream uncontrollably. She bit her lip, trying to stifle her sobs, but her body trembled with grief.
Miles glanced at her, then let out a long sigh. "Find a spot by the door and bury him. Make sure it's deep... Let's at least ensure Cole leaves this world with some dignity."
Ryan's reply was solemn, "Understood. I'll take care of it."
Ryan couldn't fathom why Miles seemed so invested in the fate of this old man. But the weight in Miles' voice spoke of genuine sorrow—something rare for a man who lived as well as Miles did in these times.
Inside the villa, Miles silently poured Lisa a glass of water and set it in front of her.
"The deceased are gone. You must find strength to endure," he said gently.
Ordinarily, he wouldn't have extended such kindness to someone so clearly dependent on him. But the information she'd provided was invaluable. This gesture, then, was his form of repayment.
Lisa raised her tear-streaked face to him, her sorrow evident. "Thank you..."
She knew Miles had no obligation to ensure her grandfather received a burial. In this frozen wasteland, corpses littered the streets, left to rot. Burying someone was a luxury few could afford.
For a moment, Lisa felt the tight grip of her anxiety loosen, replaced by a flicker of gratitude.
But Miles waved her thanks aside, his tone indifferent. "There's no need to thank me. It's a simple exchange—everyone gets what they need. Now that you've seen what I can do, I trust you'll stay in line."
"Yes, Master," Lisa replied quietly, though a trace of frustration crossed her mind.
He's impossible. A man shows a bit of kindness, and then ruins it with that damned attitude.
Miles, oblivious to her thoughts, suddenly shifted the subject. "How skilled are you as a doctor?"
Lisa straightened, suppressing her lingering sorrow. "Top ten in the nation, I'd say."
Her blunt confidence caught Miles off guard, and for a moment, he was speechless.
"Not exactly modest, are you?" he muttered before continuing, "What do you make of the zombie outside?"
His tone grew serious. "The appearance of zombies and Awakened abilities has completely disrupted the old order. Yet we still don't understand how these mutations occur."
This wasn't idle curiosity on Miles' part—it was a calculated move to secure his future. Understanding his enemies was key to survival.
Lisa approached the window and studied Ella intently. Despite her hunger, she ignored her meal and focused on the task.
After a long silence, she finally spoke. "If I had the proper tools, I could dissect it and study its biology. But under the current circumstances..."
Before she could finish, a sudden flash filled the living room. A high-powered microscope and an array of precision medical instruments materialized before her.
"Will these suffice?" Miles asked, his tone casual. "Or tell me exactly what you need. As long as it isn't classified military equipment, I can get it."
Lisa stared in disbelief at the tools before turning to Miles, her face pale.
"You..." Her voice trembled. "I heard rumors. Right before the apocalypse, the largest logistics hub in southern China was emptied overnight. Don't tell me that was your doing..."
Her voice quivered with shock.
Impossible! That warehouse had held enough supplies to sustain half of southern China.
Miles' expression darkened as he replied coldly, "How do you know so much?"
Lisa lifted her chin proudly. "If you want to keep secrets, don't leave traces. It's just luck. My hospital had medical equipment scheduled to be shipped from that logistics hub to the north. Clearly, it's not going anywhere now."
Relieved, Miles relaxed slightly.
Though the old world's systems had crumbled, his secret was too significant. If larger factions discovered the extent of his resources, their methods would undoubtedly be ruthless.
Even this fortress, as secure as it was, couldn't withstand a missile strike.
As Miles contemplated his future, his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Lisa's stomach growling. She glanced at the spilled porridge on the floor, debating whether to kneel down and lick it clean.
It wasn't desperation—it was survival. In times like these, most people wouldn't hesitate.
Amused, Miles pointed to the kitchen. "There's food in there. It's all for you."
Lisa's pretense of restraint crumbled. She dashed into the kitchen, her loose-fitting sleepwear fluttering as she ran, entirely unconcerned about appearances. Moments later, the sounds of frantic eating echoed through the villa.
When she finally re-emerged, her cheeks were flushed, and she looked much healthier.
"That's all you're eating?" Miles teased. "Don't hold back. Eat your fill."
Even slaves needed strength to work, after all.
Lisa shook her head, her voice calm. "I haven't eaten properly in days. Eating too much now would harm my stomach."
Miles chuckled. "A doctor who practices what she preaches. Impressive."
Lisa's face reddened further, but she forced herself to smile. "And I'm not just a good doctor... I'm also much more beautiful than that one outside."