Heartbroken

The house was shabby, but also kind of cozy.

Yilin was used to living in hotels and rented apartments, preferring the safety of reinforced concrete.

It always felt like she was the only person in the world, free from bullying, far from pain.

But this little cabin was the complete opposite.

Walls with bullet holes that let in drafts, broken glass, no modern facilities, dust everywhere.

Luckily, there were still enough supplies.

Yilin stuffed her annoying tail into her pants.

She wasn’t sure what was special about turning into a cat—her body felt lighter, her reflexes quicker.

She’d heard Hakimi’s reflexes were several times sharper than humans’.

Yilin didn’t feel a huge change, but her dynamic vision, reflexes, and coordination had definitely improved.

She had felt it when she fired the gun earlier, and that same enhancement made housework surprisingly smooth.

Looking around the cabin, broken, shabby, marked by violence, yet oddly carrying a trace of life.

Compared to abandoned bunkers in the radiation zone or the cold concrete apartments, at least here… there was a fireplace.

Even if it was only filled with cold ash now.

Yilin hated this world.

She longed for safety, seclusion, a space that belonged to her alone.

A concrete cage was her true paradise.

This place, though, leaked wind from all sides, filled with danger.

“So messy… where do I even start?”

She muttered, trying to give herself a reason to stay—

Or maybe just to find something to do, to untangle the chaos in her heart.

She started moving.

First was cleaning.

The bloodstains Utoya left behind still carried a faint metallic smell, mixed with dirt and gunpowder.

Yilin wrinkled her nose, her cat ears twitching, then found a relatively clean strip of old military cloth—probably used for wiping guns.

She found half a bucket of murky rainwater, and in a corner, half a bottle of acrid-smelling industrial gasoline.

Dipping the cloth in gasoline, she carefully wiped away the stains and dried blood.

The smell of gasoline was strong, but Yilin forced herself to endure it, bit by bit erasing the traces of danger and chaos.

Next was organizing.

Utoya’s supply cabinet was a total mess—bullets, canned food, bandages, tools—all mixed together.

Yilin pulled everything out and sorted them.

Her dusting and arranging became quick and efficient.

She found many long-expired ration biscuits, some military beef cans, and several bottles of vodka.

So the hunter lady really did love drinking?

In one corner was a small sack of brown rice, a few bags of salt and sugar, and even some potatoes.

They were sprouting, but if she cut the sprouts off, they’d still be edible.

The window was shattered, nothing she could do for now.

She found a piece of thick canvas and nailed it over the broken frame, blocking most of the cold air.

The fireplace needed firewood.

Utoya hadn’t left much kindling.

Yilin stepped outside and gathered dry twigs and grass at the edge of the cleared ground.

Starting a fire wasn’t hard for her.

When scavenging near the radiation zone, keeping warm had always been a basic survival skill.

Her strikes with the flint were quicker and more precise than before.

Soon, a small flame flickered in the fireplace, driving out the cold and damp.

Her frozen fingers began to warm.

The cabin grew warmer, though still empty and quiet.

Yilin’s gaze landed on the simple bedding laid on the floor.

Only a thin blanket and a thick quilt.

She hesitated, then went over and carefully shook out the blanket, smoothing it flat.

Her fingers brushed against the pillow.

It still carried Utoya’s scent—gunpowder, blood, and a unique, chilling aura.

Yilin flinched like she’d been burned, her cheeks heating up.

“What should I make for dinner? The ingredients are so limited…”

She looked at the sorted supplies, pouting.

Was she really expected to survive just eating stale bread?

Military beef cans, a few potatoes, brown rice, salt…

Oh.

She dug deeper in the cabinet and found a small jar of lard, probably rendered by Utoya herself.

Got it!

Yilin’s eyes lit up.

She washed and peeled the potatoes, cut them into chunks, and put them into an enamel lunchbox with a bit of water.

She set it carefully by the fireplace to simmer.

At the same time, she rinsed rice to cook brown rice.

Then she pried open a beef can—the rich smell instantly spread through the cabin.

After the stench of blood and gasoline, it was overwhelmingly mouthwatering.

She poured the beef and thick broth into another lunchbox and set it by the fire.

Once the potatoes softened, she mashed them carefully with broth into smooth puree.

Into the mashed potatoes she mixed a little lard and a pinch of salt.

She stirred, then slowly poured in the heated beef broth.

Finally, she placed the tender, falling-apart chunks of beef on top.

No vegetables, no spices—

But there was meat, mashed potatoes, and hot broth.

In these rough conditions, this was the most luxurious meal Yilin could imagine.

Using the spoon, Yilin carefully shaped the beef mashed potatoes into a small, cute-looking dome.

She placed it beside the brown rice she had laid out.

Looking at the steaming food in the lunchbox, giving off a tempting aroma, a faint sense of satisfaction appeared on her tired face—one she herself didn’t even notice.

Yilin was particular about meals.

If the food wasn’t good, she’d rather not eat at all.

But now… if someone could share this meal, that wouldn’t be so bad.

The sky gradually darkened.

The radiation zone’s peculiar twilight descended, cloaked in a strange, misty halo.

The firelight from the fireplace became the cabin’s only source of light.

It danced warmly, casting Yilin’s silhouette long as she sat hugging her knees at the bedside.

She freed her tail from her waistband, the white tail sweeping unconsciously behind her, stirring up fine dust.

Dinner was ready, kept warm by the fireplace, but Yilin didn’t pick up her chopsticks.

She just sat quietly, her gaze drifting now and then to the flap of canvas over the door, puffing faintly with the wind.

Outside, it was completely dark.

The sound of wind seemed louder, mixed with distant beastly howls… and the pattering of rain on leaves?

It was raining.

Yilin’s heart tightened without reason.

That bastard… she still had such a heavy wound on her shoulder.

Hunting in this weather?

Did she bring gear for the rain?

Wouldn’t the wound get infected if it got wet?

The rain in the radiation zone was no ordinary rain…

She couldn’t help but stand, walking to the door.

Peeking through the seam in the canvas, she saw only inky blackness outside, and the rain falling heavier.

A surge of emotion—worry mixed with irritation—rushed through her chest.

Yilin stomped her foot hard, her tail puffing out in agitation.

So hungry!

Why hasn’t she come back yet!

“Idiot… why push yourself like that…”

Yilin bit her lip, cursing under her breath.

She didn’t even know if she was scolding Utoya… or herself.

After a few curses, she sat back on the bed—this time closer to the fireplace.

Carefully, she fed in two thin branches, coaxing the fire brighter again.

The cabin filled with orange-red light, the scent of food mingling with burning wood, creating a strange warmth, full of life.

Yilin hugged her knees, burying her head in her arms.

The tip of her tail tapped lightly against the bedding, over and over.

But her ears stood tall, straining to catch any sound outside beyond the storm.

This was the first time Yilin had ever waited for someone.

It was maddening… and yet, somehow, it felt… nice?

……

But even as Yilin drifted into sleep, no footsteps came from outside.

The rain’s sound was soothing.

She had always liked the feeling of raindrops tapping against a window—

But here, with no glass, sleep wasn’t quite as comfortable.

“Meow…”

Yilin stretched with a drowsy yawn, letting out an involuntary, strange little sound.

She hugged the soft bedding, rolling over.

Yesterday had been exhausting, she needed to…

Wait.

Bedding?!

Yilin jolted upright, eyes wide in panic.

She was lying under a quilt.

“You’re awake? Come, have breakfast.”

The faint light of dawn slipped through the cracks in the cabin walls and the canvas, spilling a few narrow beams inside.

They outlined her silhouette.

She wasn’t wearing that bloodstained outfit anymore.

Instead, just a simple, slightly worn but clean gray linen nightshirt.

Bandages peeked faintly beneath the loose cloth at her shoulder.

Her damp, raven-black hair fell loosely across her shoulders, a few stray strands draping over her clear forehead.

Utoya was looking at her.

Those cold golden eyes now filled with a morning warmth.

Her lips carried a faint but genuine smile.

On the rough wooden table sat two steaming bowls of porridge-like breakfast, and a small dish of some kind of pickled side.

Her voice was smoother than yesterday, tinged with the huskiness of morning—

And with a trace of careful anticipation.

Yilin didn’t even know when she’d come back.

She was still in sleepwear.

Looking around, Yilin saw no second bed on the floor.

Did that mean she had…

“Bastard…”

Yilin’s face flushed crimson.

She hadn’t prepared anything to say when Utoya returned—

And she had no idea what that impulsive thought just now even meant…

But looking at that smiling face watching her, her anger somehow didn’t feel quite so sharp anymore.