The morning wind carried the smell of gunpowder and burnt soil.  

Nara Vivienne crouched beside the steel wall, her chest heaving, her knuckles white around the hammer.  

When the smoke cleared, the valley outside the fortress fell still.  

Bodies littered the dirt—those same men who once commanded her, shouted at her, threatened her.  

Now they were silent.  

For a long moment she couldn’t move. Then her knees gave out, and she sat in the dust, staring blankly at the corpses.  

Something inside her—something that had been clenched tight since the world ended—finally cracked open.  

Tears welled in her eyes. Her lips trembled.  

And then, to no one and everyone, she shouted through the morning air—  

“Thank you! Thank you, Last Supplier!”  

The sound echoed off the metal walls, thin and broken but full of relief.  

Inside the control room, Gene rubbed his temple.  

“Well,” he muttered, “now what do we do with her?”  

Reina exhaled through her nose, crossing her arms. “Isn’t it obvious? Exactly what you’re thinking.”  

Kayla, without missing a beat, leaned on the table and smirked. “Let her in. Let her finally meet our oh-so-charming supplier. See if she still thinks he’s a legend after that.”  

Reina switched on the external speaker.  

Her voice came out cold and sharp:  

> “Crying time’s over. You’re authorized to enter the main building.  

>  But don’t make any sudden moves—if you do, I’ll put a bullet through your head myself.”  

The side gate opened with a hiss of hydraulics.  

Nara hesitated, then stepped inside, wiping her face with a shaking hand.  

The corridors were bright and sterile compared to the world outside; the hum of machinery filled the air.  

At the end of the hall stood the man she had only seen on the monitor—the Last Supplier.  

Not what she expected. His hair was a mess, shirt wrinkled, eyes heavy with sleep. But his face—he was handsome in a disheveled, reluctant kind of way.  

In that same instant, a voice purred inside Gene’s skull.  

> **System:** “Visual evaluation complete. Subject appearance rating: 91%.  

>  Note—actual presence more appealing than surveillance footage.  

>  Recommendation: Accept acquisition.”  

Gene froze, internally shouting, *Accept what?!*  

He could almost feel himself grinding his teeth. *Can you at least read the room before you say crap like that?*  

Because the “room” at that moment consisted of five women, all glaring daggers at him and the newcomer.  

Even the dog had stopped chewing its kibble.

He coughed once, forced a thin smile.  

“So,” he said, breaking the tension, “what exactly were you doing out there?”  

Nara clutched the hammer against her leg. “I… I didn’t know your defense system was that strong. I thought—if they broke through—maybe I could hit at least one of them.”  

Her voice trembled. The hammer head rattled against the floor.  

Gene sighed. “Brave, but stupid. Still… noted.”  

He glanced toward the wall, as if the decision might write itself there.  

Kayla raised a brow. “What, we giving medals for suicide attempts now?”  

Reina kept her arms folded but said nothing; her expression softened just a fraction.  

Gene rubbed his face. “Look. I’ve got cars, but no one here goes outside unless it’s necessary. The world out there’s not worth the gas.”  

He turned toward Freya. “See if you can find something useful for her to do. Maintenance, sorting, whatever.”  

Freya brightened. “I can! Maybe she can help feed the animals—or clean the turbine vents—”  

“Something *indoors,*” Gene interrupted quickly. “Preferably where bullets can’t reach.”  

He looked back at Nara. “Meals are in the main hall. Three times a day. You can join us for that, but otherwise—until we figure out a job—stay in the north annex.”  

The words came out neutral, careful, like a man trying to walk between tripwires.  

Inside his head, the system chimed again.  

> **System:** “Observation: high survival instinct detected.  

>  Current emotional climate of five female residents: stable.  

>  Excellent containment result, host.”  

Gene’s face twitched. *You broken toaster,* he thought. *You couldn’t warn me earlier before I almost said the wrong thing?*  

> **System:** “Emotional chaos enhances adaptability. You’re welcome.”  

He sighed aloud this time, muttering, “I swear, one day I’ll trade you for silence.”  

No one caught what he said—but the women still watched him like hawks, and Nara stood awkwardly, still gripping the hammer like a lifeline.  

Reina finally broke the moment. “I’ll escort her back to the annex,” she said flatly.  

Kayla smirked. “Make sure she doesn’t steal his heart on the way.”  

Gene groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Can everyone stop making it sound like I run a dating agency?”  

Liz leaned over her console, smirking. “We’d stop if it wasn’t true.”  

The women laughed—some genuine, some sharp-edged.  

Nara looked confused but relieved, realizing maybe this place wasn’t as terrifying as she’d thought.  

As the door shut behind them, Gene sank into his chair, staring at the blinking monitors.  

> **System:** “New personnel integrated. Emotional balance: acceptable.  

>  Day’s trade: one rescued spy, five jealous coworkers, and a cup of cold coffee.”  

“Shut up,” Gene muttered.  

> **System:** “Acknowledged, host.  

>  But between us—she really is a ninety-one.”  

Gene buried his face in his hands and groaned, “I hate my life.”