A slap without ice cream
"Cole! You son of bitch!"
The self-righteous roar shattered the bizarre equilibrium inside the safehouse.
The newcomer wore a suit that seemed overly clean for the apocalypse, with a brand-new Glock pistol hanging from his waist.
Julian—the man who always styled himself as the "savior of the common people"—strode in with several fully armed survivors.
The freezing wind from the upper floors rushed through the open door, causing the temperature to plunge instantly to minus ten degrees.
In the dark jungle outside, the sharp scratching and gnawing sounds of zombies echoed continuously against the door.
Dozens of survivors inside the shelter huddled in the corners, shivering and staring at Julian as if he were their savior.
"Avery almost died out there for everyone's sake, and you dare humiliate her like this?"
Hearing the system's notification to continue the mission ring in my ear, I sneered.
"Humiliate?"
I looked at Avery, who was still kneeling at my feet, a cruel curve slowly forming at the corner of my mouth.
The next second, I raised my right hand without warning.
Slap!
The crisp sound of a slap echoed across the dimly lit rooftop hall.
Avery’s face snapped to the side, her soft long hair drawing a tragic yet beautiful arc in the air.
Four glaring scarlet finger marks materialized instantly on her fair cheek, and a trace of blood leaked faintly from the corner of her mouth.
"She is still my fiancée today, and I can do whatever I want with her."
I rolled my eyes at Julian and turned back to Avery.
"Next time, bring me Häagen-Dazs vanilla ice cream. Don't bring back this worthless garbage."
Disgusted, I pulled out a handkerchief and began to wipe my right hand—the one I had just used to strike her—with exaggerated affectation, perfectly portraying a reckless, villainous master of the apocalypse.
I cast a cold glare around the crowd:
"Don't forget! This safehouse you are staying in is my property! I make the rules here!"
Julian keenly seized this opportunity. He whipped out the Glock pistol from his waist, aiming the dark barrel straight at my head.
"This is how Cole treats our hero! Look, everyone! Following this tyrant will only lead to a dead end!"
Instigated by his words, several civilians immediately glared at me alongside him, and the tension escalated to a boiling point in an instant.
Yet, the anticipated riot did not break out.
Because the woman who had just been struck and was bleeding from the corner of her mouth made her move.
Avery, who had been kneeling on the ground, sprang up like a phantom.
She did not look at Julian, nor did she look at anyone speaking up for her. Her ice-blue eyes were instantly covered in a layer of suffocating frost.
Whoosh—
The air inside the hall froze instantly.
Avery unleashed a whip kick engulfed in freezing frost aura, tearing a white icy mist through the air and slamming heavily against Julian's wrist.
Crack.
It was the sharp sound of bones fracturing.
Before Julian could even let out a scream, the Glock pistol flew from his grip, froze into a solid block of ice in mid-air, and shattered into pieces as it hit the ground.
"Avery... what are you doing? I am trying to help you!"
Clutching his rapidly swelling and bruising wrist, Julian's face turned pale and flushed with anger alternately, his eyes filled with absolute disbelief and shock.
Avery did not even spare him a glance.
She turned around expressionless, placed her frost-covered hands neatly by her sides, faced me once more, and lowered her proud head in a humble and submissive manner.
"I am sorry, Master Cole. It was my dereliction of duty."
She knelt on one knee, gently resting her stacked hands over my military boots.
Her delicate body panted slightly from the intense exertion just now, her heaving chest almost pressing against the side of my leg.
She murmured in a near-pleasing, extremely low and humble tone:
"Please punish me. Do not let the filthy blood of these miscreants stain your hands."
The hall fell into a deathly silence.
Julian stood where he was, looking like a ridiculous clown, utterly humiliated.
I looked down from above at the woman who had proactively exposed her neck to my control, and waved my hand coldly:
"Get out."
Julian and his group left in embarrassment under the strange gazes of the refugees.
The system prompt inside my mind went off loudly once again.
[Ding—The mission of the villainous master humiliating his fiancée is completed. Congratulations to the host for awakening a superpower! New supplies have been distributed!]
Late at night.
The bustle of the safehouse faded away, leaving only the dry firewood in the fireplace occasionally making a crackling sound.
I was sitting in the study inventorying the newly arrived supplies when the half-closed door was suddenly pushed open gently.
Avery walked in silently.
She had already changed out of her bloody tactical suit and was wearing a clean, somewhat oversized white shirt.
Because the top two buttons were left unfastened, her delicate collarbones were faintly visible in the dim light.
Her right cheek, which had been struck during the day, was now swollen, yet on that pale and beautiful face, it revealed a breathtakingly morbid aesthetic.
Her hands were holding an insulated box wrapped carefully in a thick thermal jacket.
As she walked up to my desk, she slowly lifted the lid as if offering the most precious sacrificial item.
A tub of premium vanilla ice cream, which she had fought desperately to protect in the ruins and whose outer packaging wasn't even slightly deformed, was emitting a faint white mist.
"Cole."
Avery did not call me master.
She walked extremely close, almost pressing the weight of her entire body against one side of my thigh.
Her long, cold fingers slowly covered the palm of my right hand, the one I had used to strike her earlier.
Her fingertips carried an unusual warmth, interlocking tightly one by one through the gaps of my fingers, forcing me to clasp hands with her.
"Have a taste, this is what I brought back for you."
Her voice was thick and gentle. She pressed her swollen cheek against my arm.
"As long as it's a game you want to play, I will play along with you."
Inside my palm, the pulse at her wrist was beating wildly.
