Ethan let out a cold chuckle.
In his previous life, he'd underestimated the severity of the snowstorm. Trying to earn some goodwill, he handed out part of his stockpiled supplies to his neighbors.
And what was the result?
Instead of gratitude, people assumed he had a massive stash. The endgame? His house was broken into, and he was murdered—his body used as emergency rations.
Linda, that scheming old hag, had played no small part in his demise.
With a smirk curling on his lips, Ethan lazily sent a voice message in the group chat:
"That's great news. I've run out of food too. Linda, when you're collecting supplies, be sure to set some aside for me."
Linda, sitting in her frozen living room, nearly flipped her table.
"Bullshit! Who do you think you're fooling? There's no way you've run out of food. You've worked in the warehouse for years—don't think I believe you kept your hands clean!"
She was so confident because Ethan had often helped neighbors snag heavily discounted warehouse items—damaged packaging or near-expiry goods. As an employee, he had first dibs, and sometimes they were even handed out as benefits.
Her expression darkened as she clenched her teeth. She wasn't giving up on Ethan that easily. He was the biggest fish in the pond—if she could just pry his stash open, she and her grandson could survive at least another week.
Taking a deep breath, Linda softened her tone, layering it with mock sternness.
"Ethan, don't joke with me now. Everyone knows you're a supervisor at Bayview SuperMart. Your home's gotta be loaded with food and water."
"This is an order from the authorities, okay? You need to cooperate. Do your part and we'll all remember your contribution."
"Now be a good boy and bring me your supplies, set a good example."
Ethan leisurely picked his teeth with a toothpick—he'd had roast lamb for lunch, and it was stuck between his molars.
"No joke. I'm really out of stuff. The landlord's outta rice too, y'know? Tell you what—why don't you send me a few packs of instant noodles instead? You're a committee rep, right? Time to show that leadership spirit."
He threw it back at her with perfect sarcasm.
Linda's voice deepened, frustration bubbling to the surface.
"Ethan!"
"You really won't listen to reason, huh?"
"You think I'm talking to you as a private person? I represent the community organization!"
"Refusing to hand over your supplies means you're going against the collective. I swear, you'll be punished for this!"
Ethan sneered.
"Oh please."
"You think waving your little badge makes you a big shot?"
"You're not even civil service. Hell, you're not even contract staff. Just a glorified volunteer running errands for the neighborhood association."
"You think you're some high-ranking official just 'cause you push some papers around for the elderly?"
"News flash, grandma—I'm not scared of you. If you've got anything up your sleeve, go ahead and try it. I'll be right here."
He hung up immediately and blocked her number.
Ethan wasn't about to waste breath arguing with a screeching hag.
Linda, on the other hand, was so mad she nearly blew a blood vessel.
"That damn brat Ethan! He keeps making a fool out of me—me, the leader of this community!"
But in truth, she was powerless. She didn't even have the strength to curse him for long. All she could do was stew in her own rage.
She thought about kicking him from the group chat, but realized it would be meaningless. She considered organizing a group denunciation of him—but if she made his stash public, other people might refuse to turn theirs over too. That'd ruin her entire scam.
For now, she had to grit her teeth and swallow her pride.
She redirected her efforts toward easier targets—people too scared or clueless to say no.
And it worked. Over the next two days, through a mix of guilt trips and veiled threats, she managed to fleece several households.
But not everyone was a sucker.
Plenty ignored her. Some cursed her out and slammed the door in her face.
And people like Big Mike or Richie from 8F? She wouldn't even dare knock on their doors.
Ethan, of course, saw all of this unfold on his surveillance system. But he didn't lift a finger. He simply carried on enjoying his life: gaming, gourmet meals, total comfort.
By now, it had been five days since the Ice Storm hit.
Most households only had about three days' worth of food to begin with. Being in a warehouse-heavy district, some had a bit more—but extreme cold meant they burned through supplies even faster, just trying to stay warm.
And now the mood in the group chat was turning.
People were starting to crack. Even the obedient ones who clung to hope that the government would rescue them were beginning to question everything.
Especially those who'd been conned by Linda—who were now freezing and starving with no explanation about what happened to the food they gave up.
"@1502-Linda. You promised the food would be redistributed. It's been two days. Where's our share?"
"Yeah, you said everyone would get something!"
"We gave it to you in good faith. Don't make us regret it."
Linda didn't respond.
She saw the messages, of course. But she had no intention of giving anything back.
Only she and Ethan really understood the situation: the outside world was in full-blown collapse. You either had supplies—or you died.
Hugging her grandson under five layers of blankets, Linda muttered coldly:
"Screw those idiots. I worked my ass off to con that food out of them. Like hell I'm giving it back."