The bathroom was shrouded in a misty veil of steam.
Through the haze, a slender, graceful silhouette faintly came into view.
Mary, her hair damp and clinging to her skin, stood covered in frothy bubbles, her face a mixture of shock and rage as she glared at the man standing in the doorway.
"What do you think you're doing?!" she shouted in both shame and anger.
"I… uh…"
Miles froze in place, his body stiff as his eyes darted awkwardly to the side.
"You bastard!" Mary instinctively turned her back to him.
To a naked woman, his stunned gaze felt unbearably lecherous.
Bang!
She grabbed a bottle of body wash from the shelf and hurled it at him with all her might.
"Shit!" Miles ducked and stumbled backward, shouting in embarrassment, "Why the hell didn't you lock the door?!"
"Miles, I swear I'll kill you! I swear!" Mary's ear-piercing scream echoed from the bathroom.
Still embarrassed and defensive, Miles muttered, "Big words. Let's see who gets who first!"
"Scumbag!"
Bang!
Another unidentified object slammed against the bathroom door, prompting Miles to hastily rub his nose and retreat from the scene of the crime.
Just as he sat down on the living room couch, looking flustered, Lisa emerged from the basement.
"Miles, what are you doing? What's all this yelling about?"
Miles slouched into the couch, muttering evasively, "Nothing. Just had some crazy person turn the tables on me."
"Turn the tables on you?" Lisa glanced towards the bathroom, then broke into laughter. "Wow, you've got some nerve spinning it like that. You're the one who's a giant perv!"
Knowing he was in the wrong, Miles quickly changed the subject. "Who said she could use our bathroom, anyway?"
"I did."
"You're getting bold now, huh?" Miles retorted with a scoff.
"You're the one acting bold! Not even trying to hide it anymore?" Lisa put her hands on her hips, feigning outrage. "I'm still alive, you know! How dare you pull this crap on my watch?"
"How was I supposed to know she was in there?!" Miles grumbled defensively, then added, "And did I ever agree to let her use our bathroom? What is this—some kind of bathhouse? And so what if I saw? Consider it her ticket fee!"
Lisa rolled her eyes, exasperated but amused. "Enough with the nonsense. Her brother nearly died, and the two of them have been working their butts off for you. Show a little gratitude!"
"For me?!"
Miles started to argue but fell silent as Lisa's expression darkened.
"You want to say that again?"
"Fine, fine, whatever. She can use it. But this is the last time! I swear, this isn't some community spa!"
…
Half an hour later, Mary emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a thin bathrobe. Her red-rimmed eyes and flushed cheeks betrayed her embarrassment and frustration.
Miles instinctively shrank back, turning his head away, deliberately avoiding her gaze.
Lisa greeted her warmly. "Mary, you're all cleaned up?"
"Yes…" Mary nodded, clearly still uneasy. She forced a smile and said, "Thank you for everything today, Lisa. I'll make sure to repay you when I can."
Heh.
A low chuckle came from the couch.
Mary's expression darkened immediately as her fists clenched, trembling slightly.
Lisa quickly stepped in to diffuse the tension. "Why don't you sit down? I've set out some fresh clothes for you in the bedroom. I wasn't sure what styles you liked, so I prepared a few options. Try them and see if anything suits you."
Mary relaxed a little, her fists unclenching as she nodded gratefully. "Thank you… that's very thoughtful of you."
Heh.
"Miles!" Lisa grabbed a throw pillow and flung it at him. "What's with you? Got a bone stuck in your throat or something?"
"Alright, come on, let's not pay him any attention."
With that, Lisa led Mary to the bedroom.
…
In truth, Miles didn't dislike Mary. On the contrary, he admired her. She was confident, proud, strikingly beautiful, and immensely capable.
But her commanding presence was overwhelming, almost suffocating.
Even in her current downtrodden state, she carried herself with the air of a queen, making everyone around her feel small in comparison.
Miles didn't care for that feeling. Especially now, with his newfound abilities and vast resources, he disliked anyone acting superior to him.
As Lisa often put it, "She's just been spoiled for too long—that's her problem."
A few minutes later, the bedroom door creaked open.
Mary stepped out, now dressed in a sleek black turtleneck sweater paired with fitted wool pants. She wore high-ankle leather boots and a purple cashmere coat draped over her shoulders.
Miles stole a quick glance, silently appraising her look: Not bad at all.
Mary approached him, her demeanor calm yet determined. "Miles, thank you for helping my brother. And for everything else. I'll repay you—with my abilities."
Sigh.
Miles pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long sigh, his expression tinged with exasperation.
Her brows furrowed as her tone turned icy. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing…" Miles stood up, meeting her gaze with a nonchalant shrug. "Some people live for food and drink. Others live for dreams. But you—you live for pride. So… fine. I respect your pride."
Mary blinked, stunned by his words. Her lips parted slightly as if to speak, but no words came. Her eyes grew faintly red.
"Hey, hey! Don't look at me like that!" Miles turned to Lisa as if seeking backup, muttering, "And for the record, I didn't see anything in there. Just a vague outline through the fog."
"You bastard!"
Whatever goodwill Mary had just felt evaporated instantly as her fists clenched again, ready to strike.
"Can you be serious for once?" Lisa scolded, glaring at him. "Mary has something important to discuss with you. Don't push me, or I'll lose my temper!"
Miles flinched, looking oddly pleased as he leaned back on the couch.
Mary took a deep breath, calming herself before sitting across from him. "Yesterday's ambush cost us four lives. Over a dozen were injured—including my brother, Ansel, and even Anthony. This proves one thing: compared to a regular army, we're still far too weak."
Hearing this, Miles's playful demeanor disappeared. He nodded solemnly. "You're right. To put it bluntly, we're just a ragtag group of amateurs. Not even close to being proper fighters. If it ever came down to a full-on fight with the Southwest Base, we'd be utterly crushed."
"That's why you need to make a decision now," Mary said seriously. "Do we continue holding out here in Cloud City, playing this dangerous game of cat and mouse with them? Or do we retreat—find a new place to rebuild?"
Running away wasn't shameful—it was survival.
But Miles countered with a question. "And where would we go? If we avoid the Southwest Base, there's still the Southeast Base, the North Gate Base… Chicago alone has six major bases. Are we just going to keep running every time something happens?"
"What are you saying, then?" Mary asked, her expression unreadable.
"I'm saying we're staying put."
Miles's gaze hardened as he slapped the table. "This time, we hold our ground. If we can't even defend this place, forget taking over Chicago—we won't even have a place to call home."