Sophia had lived a life of luxury since she was a child—pampered, sheltered, and far removed from hardship. She had never faced anything remotely like this.
Sweat dripped steadily from her forehead, but her body was utterly deprived of hydration.
Her legs began to weaken, trembling beneath her, and her vision blurred. It felt as though the entire world was swaying around her.
Leaning against the trunk of a tree, Sophia's face was as pale as paper. Her breathing grew shallow and rapid, each gasp weaker than the last.
Ethan glanced at her, his usual cold expression softening ever so slightly. He let out a sigh, then picked up a coconut. After cracking it open with a rock, he walked over to her and held it out.
"Drink." His tone was still indifferent, as if he were offering something trivial, almost begrudgingly.
Sophia was barely conscious, but the moment the coconut appeared in front of her, her eyes lit up. Like a drowning person suddenly grasping a lifeline, she abandoned all pretense. Her trembling hands reached out, and she grabbed the coconut, tilting it back to gulp down the liquid inside.
The cool coconut water slid down her throat, and it was as if life itself was being poured back into her body.
In mere seconds, the coconut was drained dry. She lowered the empty shell, gasping for air, and some color finally returned to her face.
"Thank you…" Sophia murmured, her voice hesitant, tinged with reluctance.
Ethan shrugged, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Don't mention it. But remember, you owe me 200 Galactic Credits now."
Sophia froze, biting her lip. She didn't argue—she knew she had no leverage to negotiate.
Ethan didn't wait for a response. He turned and walked back to the shade of a tree, lying down again with his hands behind his head. Closing his eyes, he acted as though nothing of importance had just happened.
Sophia's gaze lingered on him, her emotions swirling in a confusing mix of gratitude, frustration, and something else she couldn't quite name.
She had always thought of Ethan as a nobody—a backwater bumpkin, a low-level employee at the company she wouldn't have spared a second glance. She had even mocked him with her best friend, joking that he was like a toad dreaming of eating swan meat.
But now, she had to admit, Ethan wasn't what she thought he was.
He could have taken advantage of her desperation, forced her into anything, but he didn't. Instead, he'd chosen to remind her of her "debt" in a teasing, almost playful way. It was this unexpected restraint that made her start to see him in a new light.
If we make it out of this alive, I'll repay him properly, Sophia vowed silently to herself.
Ethan, however, seemed completely unaware of her thoughts—or, more likely, he didn't care.
On this desolate, uninhabited island, survival was the only thing that mattered. Whether they'd ever be rescued was still an open question. Worrying about the future was pointless; the only thing worth focusing on was staying alive in the present.
Ethan was a pragmatist, an optimist in his own way. He knew that complaining or resisting their situation wouldn't change anything.
What had happened, happened. The only thing left to do was accept it, conserve energy, and prepare for whatever challenges lay ahead.
Time passed quietly. The angle of the sunlight shifted as the twin suns in the alien sky began their slow descent.
Ethan opened his eyes, glancing at his watch. He held it up to scan the position of the two massive stars overhead, then checked the surrounding environment. After pressing a confirmation button, the watch displayed the time: 3:00 PM.
Stretching lazily, Ethan yawned and got to his feet.
"Where are you going?" Sophia asked quickly, noticing his movement.
"Where do you think? To gather supplies. Or did you think we could survive on air alone?" Ethan rolled his eyes, his tone laced with impatience.
Sophia was momentarily stunned into silence. She felt a flicker of irritation at his attitude but didn't dare argue. Instead, she followed him quietly as they walked along the beach.
The shoreline was littered with debris—suitcases, fragments of the starship they'd crashed on, and even a few bloated corpses washed up by the waves.
Sophia froze when she saw the bodies. Her face turned ghostly pale, and her steps faltered.
"Those bodies… shouldn't we stay away from them?" Her voice trembled with fear.
Ethan, however, didn't hesitate. He crouched down beside one of the corpses and began rummaging through its belongings with practiced efficiency, his movements quick and unflinching.
"You're actually touching that? Doesn't it disgust you?" Sophia asked, her voice filled with a mix of shock and revulsion.
"Disgust?" Ethan replied without even looking up, his tone as calm as if he were discussing the weather. "If it helps me survive, why would I care? You'd better wake up. Out here, survival is all that matters."
Sophia was left speechless by Ethan's blunt words.
She knew he was right, but the psychological barrier kept her from facing the corpses as calmly as he did.
Ethan didn't bother with her anymore and continued his search.
He stripped the bodies of clothing, tools, and anything else that might prove useful.
From a distance, Sophia forced herself to watch, suppressing her discomfort. Her emotions were a chaotic mix of disgust, guilt, and reluctant admiration.
Before long, Ethan had thoroughly scavenged the corpses.
For a moment, he hesitated, debating whether to dig a grave and give the bodies a proper burial. It seemed like the humane thing to do.
But after poking at the ground with a stick a few times, he quickly abandoned the idea—the soil was too hard, and without proper tools, digging a grave was impossible.
"Forget it. This isn't the time to worry about things like that," Ethan muttered to himself.
He scanned the area, reminding himself that conserving energy and staying alert were far more important on this desolate island. Who knew what kind of wild animals or other dangers might be lurking?
Exhausting himself over something symbolic could cost him dearly if a real threat appeared.
In the end, he opted for the simplest solution: a sea burial.
One by one, he pushed the bodies into the ocean, watching as the waves carried them away until they disappeared from sight.
"Rest in peace," Ethan murmured, his tone carrying a hint of emotion before his expression returned to its usual calm.
With that done, he turned his attention to a suitcase he had cracked open earlier.
Inside, he found a variety of clothes—both men's and women's—all high-end brands from the Galactic Trade Alliance. There were also two books and some toiletries.
Wasting no time, Ethan gathered everything and carried it back to their makeshift camp.
As the sky darkened, he decided to use the remaining daylight to search for food along the beach. He crouched down, picking up shells and clams, planning to use them for dinner.
"Looks like this planet's ecosystem isn't too different from Earth's," Ethan muttered to himself as he worked. "Though everything here seems to be a size larger."
His luck held out. In addition to a decent haul of clams, he found a stranded fish and two crabs with colorful shells.
Satisfied with his findings, Ethan allowed himself a small smile.
But just as he was about to head back to camp, a faint cry for help reached his ears.
"Help… please… help me…" The voice was weak and broken, barely audible over the sound of the waves.
Ethan immediately tensed, his senses sharpening. He turned toward the sound and quickly spotted a figure slumped against a tree not far away.
Sophia heard it too. She was even more excited than Ethan, pointing toward the figure and shouting, "Ethan, look! There's another survivor!"
"I'm not blind," Ethan replied with a roll of his eyes before striding toward the person.
As he got closer, he recognized her. It was the Mature Bombshell he had briefly spoken to on the starship before the crash.
Even in her disheveled state, she exuded an air of elegance. Her mature beauty and composed demeanor had caught his attention back then, and now, even as she leaned weakly against the tree, she still carried an undeniable grace.
"Miss, are you okay?" Ethan crouched down, his tone unusually gentle.
"I… I twisted my ankle. I can't walk. Can you help me?" The woman looked up at him, her pale face filled with vulnerability. Her voice was soft, almost pleading.
"I know a bit about first aid. Let me take a look," Ethan said, setting his haul of seafood aside. He knelt down and carefully reached for her ankle.
Her foot was small and delicate, her skin smooth and fair. For a moment, Ethan found himself distracted by the softness of her touch and the faint, lingering scent of her perfume. Even in this harsh environment, she radiated a kind of allure that was hard to ignore.
He forced himself to focus, shaking off any stray thoughts, and examined her ankle.
It was swollen, clearly sprained. Ethan pressed gently on the injured area, and the woman winced, sucking in a sharp breath.
"Ah—! That hurts!" she gasped, her face contorted in pain.
From behind them, Sophia's voice rang out, laced with sarcasm and irritation. "Ethan, are you treating her injury, or just taking advantage of her?"
Ethan glanced up at Sophia, his expression deadpan. "I'm treating her injury. Don't distract me."