CHAPTER 311: APOCALYPTIC ROMANCE 21

"Really?" Alvaro let out a small laugh that sounded more like a growl. "And here I thought we’d pay by becoming your unpaid labor force."

"Alvaro," Sasha warned, her tone slicing the air sharper than any blade.

The man didn’t flinch. His surgical mask hid his expression, but his tone was like steel. "Everyone here works. It’s how this bastion survives. That’s the rule of the new world. You’ll find it’s safer here than out there."

"Hmm..." Alvaro’s smirk deepened. He leaned closer to Sasha and murmured, "Safer maybe, but I bet they’re running low on supplies. People with desperate stomachs do stupid things. You sure you’re okay losing that van?"

Sasha’s eyes flicked to him, calm and knowing. "It’s fine. Everything important’s stored inside my ring. I have multiple armored vans here too."

Alvaro froze mid-step. "What?" he hissed quietly, face contorting. He barely managed to keep his voice steady. "Then why the hell did we walk all the way to that van the first time?!"

"There were people everywhere," Sasha replied smoothly, lips curving into a secret smile. "If they saw me pull a van out of thin air, I’d have been everyone’s favorite target. And I didn’t want to waste that one parked in the lot."

Alvaro chuckled under his breath. "You’re something else, princess."

She arched a brow. "Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

He grinned. "Depends on how long we survive."

Eventually, they were separated — men to one tent, women to another.

Sasha was herded into a narrow enclosure with faded tarps and buzzing lamps. The air smelled of soap, sweat, and disinfectant.

They were stripped of their belongings, their clothes, their weapons. Each woman was issued a plain gray outfit and a small pouch of daily essentials.

A woman named Charlotte, tall and sun-tanned with a scarf tied around her messy hair, guided her toward a corner. "Us women handle most of the household work," she explained. "Cleaning, cooking, farming, laundry. The men handle raids, patrols, and external security."

"Mmm..." Sasha hummed softly. "Even in the apocalypse, the chores stay gendered."

Charlotte laughed nervously. "You’re not wrong, but some women do volunteer for raids outside. Dangerous work, though. Most don’t last long."

"How long have you been here?" Sasha asked.

"Six months." Charlotte’s expression softened. "My husband is one of the military here. That’s the only reason I’m still breathing."

"I see..." Sasha’s gaze drifted to the command tents in the distance. "So that blue-haired man — he’s in charge?"

"You mean Commander Cloud?" Charlotte giggled. "He’s second-in-command. The leader here is Governor Gan. He was on an inspection when the monsters appeared. Got trapped like the rest of us — and somehow, he made himself leader."

"Really?" Sasha tilted her head. "But with the old world gone, shouldn’t power be based on strength now? Not titles?"

Charlotte’s eyes darted nervously to the guards nearby. "Shh! Don’t say that out loud. You’ll get in trouble. But..." she leaned closer, whispering, "you’re right. Commander Cloud should be the one leading. But he’s too proud. Too bound by old duty. He won’t go against the chain of command."

"A military man through and through," Sasha murmured, half-smiling. "Just like Lucian..."

Her chest tightened. Among all the men she’d met in another world, Lucian and Lyander were the two that haunted her most — both warriors bound by honor, both too selfless for their own good.

The two who she wasn’t satisfied with the ending.

Commander Cloud reminded her of them: disciplined, cold, maybe even lonely.

She clenched her hands. No matter what, I’ll save him — and bring him to my side.

And if he turned out to be a villain? Even better. A powerful villain was always useful just like Alvaro.

"Maybe next time I’ll buy something that can identify villains ahead of time," Sasha muttered, smirking to herself. "Would save me the trouble of guessing."

Charlotte blinked. "Sorry, what was that?"

"Nothing," Sasha said, flashing a small grin. "Just thinking ahead."

====

Alvaro, from across the tents, sneezed suddenly.

"Someone must be thinking about me," he muttered.

Outside, the wind howled over the plastic tents, carrying the scent of gun oil and rain — and somewhere deep inside the camp, a pair of sharp blue eyes watched Sasha with silent interest.

====

The next morning, Sasha woke up to the blaring sound of a whistle that could wake the dead.

"Morning call! Everyone to your stations!" someone shouted outside.

With Charlotte’s help, she’d begun familiarizing herself with the Bastion — a fortress-turned-refuge camp built from scavenged metal, tarps, and stubborn hope.

It was impressive, in a chaotic kind of way. Makeshift farms grew in old parking lots, barrels collected rainwater, and the walls were guarded by tired faces gripping rusty rifles.

There were roughly two hundred people living here, but only fifty were actual militia. The rest were survivors: bakers turned guards, teachers turned scavengers, and one ex-accountant who now proudly milked goats.

Sasha was assigned to cleaning duty. Alvaro, on the other hand, got the "fun" job — raid missions. The kind of job that usually came with missing limbs and tragic last words.

In the large common hall, the smell of boiled eggs and burnt toast filled the air.

Alvaro slumped on a wooden bench, holding a metal tray. "The food here tastes like cardboard," he grumbled. "One egg and a slice of bread? I miss your cooking already."

Sasha sat across from him, unbothered. "Eat. You’ll need your strength."

"Strength for what? Starving? We have more food on the road than here. I’m regretting staying here already, and it’s only the first day."

She rolled her eyes, then subtly slipped something into his jacket pocket. "Just shut up and eat."

Alvaro blinked, then felt the unmistakable shape of chocolate bars. His grin spread wide. "Oh, you sneaky angel. You just know how to pleased me."

"Keep your voice down," Sasha hissed. "You want everyone here to think I’m hiding a five-star kitchen?"

He leaned closer, teasing. "You are hiding half the world’s rations in you."

"Eat your egg before I stab it into your eye," she deadpanned.

Alvaro laughed quietly, then sobered when he caught her gaze. "You’re mad I joined the raids."

"You know it’s dangerous out there, right?" she said, frowning. "You could’ve asked for another job. I don’t know—maybe guard duty? At least you’d still have a wall between you and death."