Night fell gently over Hancock Fortress, and for once, the lights burned warm instead of cold.

In the main hall, two long tables were pushed together—an improvised banquet in a world where food usually came in cans and prayers.  

Steam rose from pots of stew, bread warmed in the oven, and even something that looked suspiciously like salad.

“Dinner’s on,” Kayla announced, slapping a ladle into a pot big enough to hide in.  

“Don’t ask how, just eat it.”

The smell alone was enough to make even the soldiers relax.  

Freya had set the plates, humming; Reina stood by the door as quiet as always;  

and Liz was already muttering into her recorder. “Episode title: *‘The Feast at the End of the World.’*”

“Turn that off,” Gene warned without looking up.

He sat at the head of the table, hair still a mess, sleeves rolled, looking more like a man on vacation than the legendary Supplier.  

To Angel Gates, it was almost insulting.  

She had expected a myth—a cold-eyed strategist, maybe a recluse who talked like a prophet.  

Instead, she found a man who looked like he’d overslept through the apocalypse.

Angel took her seat opposite him, posture perfect, eyes assessing.  

So this was him.

> **System (silently):** “Reminder: discussion of my existence is forbidden.”

Gene thought back, *Yeah, yeah, keep quiet for once.*

The meal began.  

The clatter of utensils filled the room—a rare sound of life.  

Angel and her sister, Mikasa, sat among the others; Mikasa smiled shyly at Freya’s enthusiasm.

Reina broke the silence first. “So. What’s the situation out there? Government forces still holding the western sectors?”

Angel set down her fork, eyes dimming. “Barely.  

Our western expedition encountered something—unknown hostiles, not just raiders.  

We lost more than half our unit. The command is in chaos.”

The table went quiet.

Kayla exhaled. “That bad, huh.”

Angel nodded slowly. “If not for the fortress signal, we wouldn’t have made it back at all.  

Once we regroup, I intend to secure more supplies.  

If the Supplier is willing, we could establish formal trade routes.  

The front needs food. Ammunition. Anything that still works.”

She turned her gaze to Gene.  

“Would you consider it?”

Gene leaned back, watching the soup swirl in his spoon.  

His voice was calm, almost lazy.  

“I’m not a soldier. I just want to live.  

But if the government keeps people alive, then maybe it’s worth helping.”

Angel’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe?”

Gene glanced up at her. “Help isn’t free.”

A small smirk tugged at her lip. “I expected that.”

He continued, voice steady.  

“This time, I want titanium alloys and aerospace-grade composites.  

Bring those, and I’ll double your rations and ammo.”

The room shifted—Reina looked up sharply, Alyssa blinked, Kayla muttered, “Big ask.”

Angel, however, didn’t flinch. She stood, sharp as her uniform.  

“Then we have a deal. I’ll return to command immediately.”

Before she could take another step, Gene’s tone changed—still calm, but colder than the steel walls.

“One condition.”

Angel stopped. “Name it.”

“You leave your sister here.”

Mikasa looked up, startled. “What?”

Reina’s hand twitched near her sidearm, sensing the tension.  

Kayla froze mid-bite. Even Liz stopped recording.

Angel’s eyes hardened. “That’s not a request you can make.”

Gene met her stare, unblinking.  

“Yes, it is.”

Silence stretched between them like a drawn wire.

“Mikasa stays,” Gene said. “If you speak of this place, this system, or what you saw here… you’ll never see her again.”

Angel’s jaw tightened. “You’d threaten the government?”

Gene’s tone didn’t change. “I’d protect my people.”

> **System (quietly):** “Host dominance registered. Government intimidation—successful.”

Angel exhaled slowly, tension draining from her shoulders.  

Then, surprisingly, she smiled—just barely.

“I see. You’re not just a supplier. You’re a survivor.”

Gene raised his cup in a mock toast. “Finally, someone gets it.”

Angel turned to her sister. “You’ll stay, Mikasa. Until I return.”

Mikasa nodded softly, more curious than afraid. “Understood.”

The storm in the air broke as quickly as it formed.  

Kayla clapped her hands once. “Good. Now everyone eat before the soup gets cold.”

The conversation stumbled back to life—small talk, half-laughter, the clinking of plates.  

Angel finished her meal quietly, eyes lingering on Gene, studying him not as an ally or threat—but something in between.

As the dinner ended, she approached him one last time.  

“I’ll bring what you asked for. Titanium and composites.  

And perhaps… coffee, if I’m feeling generous.”

Gene smirked. “Now *that* would be charity.”

Angel’s expression softened, just slightly.  

“Don’t die before I get back, Supplier.”

“Not planning to,” he said. “Too many bills to pay.”

> **System:** “Emotional analysis: 67% mutual respect, 12% suppressed tension, 21% dangerous flirting.”

“Delete that,” Gene muttered.

> **System:** “Impossible.”

Outside, the desert wind howled again,  

but inside Hancock Fortress, dinner felt strangely human—  

and that, more than anything, terrified him.