Ethan feigned confusion. "What's wrong? I don't think I've done anything bad."
Claire messaged back: "Are you dumb? It's a snow lockdown out there. We've nearly run out of food!"
"This is the perfect time to show your loyalty to Emily. If I were you, I'd send over all the good stuff—steak, lobster, anything fancy."
"She'll be so moved, and your chances with her will skyrocket!"
Ethan stared at Claire's messages, already picturing the greedy gleam in her eyes. He smirked coldly.
This wasn't even subtle anymore—it was just begging. Worse, it came with a fake sense of superiority, as if giving them food was some grand opportunity he should be honored by.
Pathetic.
He decided to play along and toy with these two fake saints.
"But I don't have much food left either," Ethan replied. "Barely enough to last me, honestly."
Claire frowned and sent another message: "That's short-sighted! How long do you think this snow thing will last? Skip a few meals, get Emily to fall for you—sounds like a win, doesn't it?"
"If you can't even do that, I don't think you're really serious about her!"
Ethan laughed. These two were really milking the dumb-simp playbook dry. One played the "bad cop," the other the "good cop," like a budget CPU script.
But Ethan had already seen through their little performance.
He just replied with a single word: "Sure."
Then tossed his phone aside and ignored her.
Claire stared at the "Sure" message, nearly losing it.
"What does that even mean?! 'Sure'?? That's your response after I explain all that?"
"I'm telling you, bring me something good! I want steak and lobster too!"
Claire was a certified foodie. After days of surviving on instant noodles and canned goods, Ethan's food pics had her drooling like a starving mutt.
Her original plan was to use Emily as bait to trick Ethan into delivering a feast. But the outcome was way off script.
That damn "Sure" almost broke her spirit.
Could it be… Ethan wasn't into Emily anymore?
No, impossible!
Claire recalled how obsessed Ethan had been for the past few years—always doting, always chasing.
"He must've just had a temporary brain freeze!"
Fuming, Claire ran back to Emily to complain.
Of course, she framed it like she was doing it for Emily's sake—purely out of friendship, of course.
Emily, sitting with a sour face, replied coldly: "Hmph, Ethan? Who even is that? Don't mention him to me again!"
If Ethan ever wanted to be in her good graces again, he'd need to apologize profusely and prove himself all over again.
Claire nudged her. "Don't forget you've got other simps."
There were plenty of other coworkers who lived in the same building, like that clingy doormat Ben.
Emily knew exactly who she meant.
She scoffed. Ben didn't even count as a backup simp. No house, still renting, and working the same warehouse job… she only kept him around to leech off small favors.
But Claire had a point.
Outside was freezing, stores were inaccessible, and food supplies were running low. Might as well use whatever pawns she had.
So she messaged Ben.
Within five minutes, he showed up at her door, panting and eager, with a bag of groceries in hand.
He picked out only the best stuff he had, all to please her.
"Emily, you just say the word and I'm there for you. You know I'd do anything for you!"
Emily smiled sweetly. "Thanks, Ben. You're the best."
After sending him off, she dropped the act and scowled.
"Pfft. You? Think you have a chance with me? Dream on."
Across the building, the mood was shifting.
Temperatures had plummeted to lethal lows. Even with the heating on, most homes were still freezing. Most residents had no stockpile of food, and their fridges were empty after two days.
Even though the community queen Mrs. Lin kept assuring everyone the snow would end soon, people were getting anxious.
Ethan saw it all through his screens—and found it amusing.
He'd prepared thoroughly. He wasn't suffering; in fact, his post-apocalypse life was more luxurious than ever.
He was a spectator now, watching society unravel.
As for Ben and the other lackeys? After Ethan had dealt with them, they didn't dare show their faces again.
Ben's leg was essentially crippled, and without medical care, he'd probably end up disabled.
The others, soaked by Ethan's little "ice bath," were all down with fevers, with no way to warm up or treat themselves.
Ethan spent his days gaming and monitoring the group chats.
Sometimes he'd work out with high-end equipment, or read books he'd downloaded in advance—things like Field Medic's Handbook or Militia Survival Training.
Knowledge never hurt. Even if he never needed it, it was best to be prepared.
Outside, snow poured endlessly. Thick clouds blanketed the sky so completely, it was impossible to tell day from night.
On the third morning, Ethan woke up, tore off a fresh Peking duck, and glanced at the clock.
"It's almost time. The real show's about to begin," he muttered.
Right then, his group chats exploded with activity.