Sweetie Liu remarks immediately triggered a flood of ridicule from the male residents in the chat.
"Please, do you really think you're that important just because you called yourself a little princess?"
"You think we're risking our lives to protect you? Who do you think you are?"
Even Uncle You, the security guard, was at a loss for words. He couldn't understand it—he had stepped up with good intentions to protect everyone, and this was the thanks he got?
Not being one for arguments, he simply stopped speaking.
Ethan Cross scrolled through the messages with a smirk. With limited entertainment options these days, watching this unfold was more amusing than any drama.
To him, most of the people in the chat were just asking for death.
The chat devolved into a chaotic flame war. Maybe it was the built-up frustration, but the residents went completely off the rails. Every insult and slur imaginable flooded the group. They even forgot why the group had been created in the first place.
Ethan set his phone aside and strolled into the kitchen. Sure, he had plenty of pre-made meals in his dimensional storage, but sometimes, he liked to cook for himself—just to feel human.
He pulled out some fresh ingredients: potatoes, scallions, garlic, and ginger—all so fresh they looked like they'd just been harvested. He also retrieved some tender beef brisket with a deep red color that practically begged to be cooked.
He set about making a classic beef stew with potatoes. He even slapped some flatbread on the inside of the pot, letting it soak up the rich flavors of the broth. This was comfort food at its finest.
As he waited for the food to cook, he checked his phone again.
More messages—this time from Claire and Natalie.
Both women were crying, clearly shaken by the recent murder committed by Tony Chen. These two spoiled princesses had no clue how to survive a crisis, and now, they were terrified they'd be next.
"Please, Ethan," Claire pleaded in a voice message. "No matter what's happened between us, you once loved me, didn't you? You can't just let me die like this..."
"I know I was immature before, but now I understand who truly cared for me. Please, let's live through this together. I want to be your woman."
Natalie's message was even more shameless. "Ethan, I don't want to die. Let me stay with you—I'll do anything. Just please don't let me end up in the hands of monsters like them!"
Ethan could feel their desperation.
If he were living in a freezing, foodless hellhole like they were, maybe he'd be desperate too.
But did he feel sympathy for them?
Hell no.
If anything, he found it deeply satisfying. This was the outcome he had longed to see.
Their panic, their misery—it was his entertainment.
Instead of replying, he recorded a short video.
In it, he showed off his steaming beef stew and golden, crispy flatbread. The fireplace behind him glowed warm and bright, creating a cozy atmosphere. It was paradise compared to the hell outside.
For those two women, it was the ultimate torment.
They could barely keep themselves warm, let alone eat something decent.
The two of them sent back more messages, begging to be let in.
Ethan didn't respond.
He didn't say yes, and he didn't say no.
That sliver of hope was what he wanted them to cling to—just enough to keep them crawling back, groveling at his feet.
As night fell, Tony Chen didn't make another move. Having secured enough rations from earlier, he knew that going too far would spark rebellion.
Better to control through fear and manipulation—offer false promises to keep people docile, and kill just enough to maintain authority.
Later that night, Ethan noticed something strange on the monitor.
Electricity wasn't supposed to be available at night. Only his place still had power, thanks to his custom generator. But down on the monitors, he saw something odd.
Tony Chen's goons were dragging out two corpses.
Ethan squinted.
The faces were unfamiliar. He'd memorized nearly every tenant in the building. That could only mean one thing—those two were outsiders, the low-level thugs Tony brought in early on.
Ethan's thoughts moved quickly.
Those two had probably been the ones soaked by his water attack that night.
In weather colder than –70°F, getting drenched was a death sentence. A simple cold would spiral into a fever, and without warmth or medication like ibuprofen, death was all but guaranteed.
Which was likely what happened.
Their bodies were now stripped of clothing and left in the hallway.
At first, Ethan didn't get it.
Why not just throw the bodies out the window and let the snow take care of it?
But then it hit him—and the realization made his blood run cold.
They weren't disposing of the bodies.
They were storing them.
For food.
Ethan's pupils shrank. A chill ran down his spine.
It was the most plausible explanation.
The world outside was one giant freezer now. Nothing would rot, and in a world without supply chains, meat—any meat—was invaluable.
In every apocalyptic tale, cannibalism always reared its head.
And in the annals of human history, famine had always brought it forth. People traded children for food, butchered strangers to feed their own. These weren't myths—they were facts, written in black and white.
The modern world had simply forgotten.
Until now.
Ethan took a deep breath, calming his nerves.
He was more prepared than anyone for this truth. He'd lived through it once before.
He'd seen how desperation twisted people's souls, how starvation stripped away morality.
He'd been killed for rations, then eaten.
So now, he was ready.
"Tony Chen… you really are a savage," Ethan muttered, almost impressed.
Plenty of people understood what desperation could drive someone to do.
But to preemptively designate your own men as food?
That wasn't just savage—that was inhuman.
But Ethan didn't feel fear.
He felt cold, calculating resolve.
And a creeping certainty—
That things were only going to get worse from here.