Chapter2
I listened in silence, a bitter smile tugging at the corner of my mouth.
Memories from the past three years flashed through my mind one after another. To buy her the latest designer bags, I'd lived on gas station junk for months. To keep up with her endless demands, I'd worked three jobs by myself. Over those three years, the money I'd sent her for living expenses, gifts, vacations, and who knew what else had added up to nearly a million.
"What a complete joke," I muttered under my breath.
The panic that had been burning inside me ever since I learned the apocalypse was coming suddenly died down. In its place was something far colder—absolute clarity.
I gave the two of them one last look, still tangled together in the shadows. I didn't make a sound. I didn't charge in and demand answers. I didn't scream.
I just turned around, pushed open the heavy restaurant doors, and stepped out into the cool night air.
I had no idea how long I'd been walking when my phone suddenly buzzed in my pocket, loud and jarring in the silence.
At first, I didn't want to check it. I figured it was just another message from Chloe telling me to do something for her. But when I glanced at the screen, it was a bank notification instead:
[Deposit received at 10:45 PM: $10,000. Memo: Son, take care of yourself.]
A second later, my mom sent a message in the family group chat:
"Leo, your father and I saw what Chloe's brother posted in their family chat. How could they say those things about you? Don't be upset. We know you've been under a lot of pressure lately. Take this money and use it if you need it. If you got yourself into some kind of trouble, use it to fix things. If it's not enough, your dad and I still have some retirement savings."
My eyes stung instantly.
I opened the screenshot they were talking about, and sure enough, Derek had posted what I said at the restaurant as a joke, with the caption:
"My sister's broke boyfriend has officially lost his mind. He made up an apocalypse just to beg for money."
The replies underneath were full of ugly insults and ridicule from their relatives.
I took a deep breath, blinked away the wetness in my eyes, and called my parents right away.
"Leo? Are you okay?" my mother asked the second she picked up. I could hear the worry in her voice, and my father asking quietly in the background.
"Mom, Dad, I'm okay," I said, doing my best to keep my voice steady. "But I need to tell you something serious. The money you sent me triggered a survival condition. The apocalypse is really coming. In thirty days. Do you believe me?"
There was a brief silence on the other end.
I knew exactly how insane that sounded, but I had no other choice.
A moment later, my father's deep, steady voice came through the phone.
"Son, you've never lied to us a day in your life. If that's what you're telling us, then we believe you. Whatever happens, we face it together as a family."
The instant he finished speaking, the system panel in front of me burst into brilliant golden light.
[Detected: Host's parents meet the conditions of Absolute Trust and Financial Transfer.]
[Congratulations! Permanent safehouse access has been granted to host's parents.]
[Initiating awakening of basic defensive abilities.]
The moment I heard the system notification, the weight hanging over my heart finally dropped.
At least in this collapsing world, the people I cared about most were safe.
When I got back to my cheap rental apartment, I sat down at my computer and started going through my contacts.
If those were the rules, then I should at least give my old friends a chance.
I drafted a long message explaining everything—the warning, the coming apocalypse, the $5,000 transfer requirement, and the system's ability-awakening rule—then sent it out to dozens of people I thought I was close to.
Reality turned out to be even harsher than I expected.
Thirty minutes passed. My phone stayed completely silent. No replies. No transfers.
It wasn't until three in the morning that I finally got two messages back.
They were from two guys I'd been really close with in college, friends who had moved out of state after graduation. Neither of them asked a single question. They each sent me $5,000 with the same kind of note:
"Bro, whether you're in trouble or not, take this and use it for now. Just don't go borrowing from loan sharks."
When the system popped up with [Two new shelter residents added], I couldn't help smiling.
Aside from my parents, that was probably the only comfort I'd gotten all night.
At the same time, my social media apps suddenly started blowing up with notifications.
When I opened them, I found my photo—and all the things I'd said about the apocalypse and the transfers—had already been turned into memes, screenshots, and joke posts spreading all over the internet.
The one behind it was Mark. On his public account, he openly mocked me: [Scammers are getting more creative by the day. Watch out for lunatics pretending to be 'apocalypse saviors' to swindle money out of people.]
Chloe had even liked the post and commented underneath: [Thank God I saw his true colors early. Honestly, it's just sad.]
In an instant, I became a laughingstock.
Former coworkers, acquaintances, strangers—I knew some of them, I didn't know most of them, but all of them were piling into the comments to mock and curse me out. Delusional psycho. Broke clown. Total nutcase.
I looked quietly at all those vicious words on the screen, my finger resting lightly on the mouse.
No anger. No humiliation. Not even a ripple inside me.
And then several transfer notifications from unknown senders hit my phone.
