The knock on the door was soft, polite, familiar.
Aurora didn't move.
She just stared at it.
Her expression?
Blank. Cold. Too calm.
She already knew who it was.
"Rory? Sweetheart?" a woman's voice called sweetly from outside the door. "We're heading out soon for Serah's engagement lunch. You're still coming, right?"
Her mother.
That voice used to make her heart ache with longing. With guilt. With the hope that maybe—just maybe—she was loved.
Now?
It made her stomach twist in disgust.
Aurora slowly approached the door, but didn't open it. She leaned close, placed her palm flat against the wood. Just on the other side stood the woman who, in her last life, had cried fake tears at her funeral while secretly pocketing hush money from the people who sold her to the lab.
"...Yeah," Aurora said at last, keeping her tone even. "I'll be there."
A pause.
Then her mother's voice again, light and cheerful. "Good! Wear that blue dress I picked out for you, okay? You always look so—"
Aurora stepped away, tuning her out.
She didn't need to hear any more lies.
---
She had six days and twenty-three hours left.
She grabbed her phone and opened her Notes app.
Her fingers moved quickly.
> Priority 1: Stock food, weapons, water, medicine.
Priority 2: Secure transport. Gas. Generator.
Priority 3: Find shelter far from city.
Priority 4: Deal with Caleb before he betrays me.
Priority 5: Burn Serah's golden life to the ground.
She paused.
Then slowly added:
> Priority 6: Figure out what the hell this "System" is.
---
It was strange. She could still feel it—like a second pulse beneath her skin.
Quiet. Watching. Waiting.
She tapped her temple. "System. Open."
> [Apocalypse Countdown System: Active.]
[Survivor Rank: F-]
[Available Points: 0]
[Current Perks: None]
[Evolution Status: Dormant]
[Kill Count: 0]
Kill count.
So it tracked that?
A cold breath left her lips.
She wasn't sure what was scarier: the idea of killing… or how little the thought bothered her anymore.
---
She spent the next three hours in quiet, furious planning.
No tears. No distractions.
Just a fire in her chest and the memory of being ripped apart echoing behind her eyes.
She emptied her savings into a new account.
Began placing bulk orders—knives, collapsible batons, portable water filters, power banks, military rations. She texted an old classmate in the countryside, someone who owed her a favor. A secure farm with solar panels and hidden storage. Perfect.
She knew the order of events:
Day 1 — first outbreak at Unity Hospital.
Day 2 — city lockdown.
Day 3 — military starts shooting infected in the streets.
Day 4 — power grids fail.
Day 5 — governments fall.
Day 6 — hell on earth.
Day 7?
She dies.
Not this time.
---
It was noon when she finally stood in front of her full-length mirror again.
She pulled out the pale blue dress her mother picked—soft, innocent, flattering.
It made her want to vomit.
Instead, she picked a black dress. Sleek. Sharp. The kind that said "I don't need your approval."
Her hair fell around her shoulders in loose waves. Her makeup? Bold.
A red lip. Black-lined eyes.
Not a lamb.
Not a wallflower.
Not someone easily forgotten.
She looked dangerous.
Good.
---
The engagement lunch was at Ridgeway Hall, the kind of place that served golden wine in crystal glasses and played soft classical music like it was trying to lull you into complacency.
Aurora walked in like she owned the room.
She didn't look at her mother's shocked face.
Didn't glance at the judgmental aunts.
Didn't smile at the family friends whispering, "Why is she here?"
Instead, she walked straight up to Serah.
The sister who stole her life.
The golden child. The angel. The one who once cried and said, "I'd die without you," then threw her to the wolves to live happily ever after with Aurora's fiancé.
Serah turned, already mid-laugh, her hand delicately resting on Caleb's arm.
The moment she saw Aurora, her smile froze.
Aurora smiled. Slowly. Sweetly. Deadly.
"Congratulations," Aurora said coolly, eyes locking on Caleb.
The man she once loved.
The man who kissed her, promised forever, and then locked the cage she died in.
He looked good. Too good.
But she wasn't the same girl staring at him with wide, hopeful eyes anymore.
He opened his mouth. "Aurora—"
"Shh," she said, tilting her head. "Let's not pretend."
The table went quiet.
She leaned closer, just enough for them to hear, her voice low and velvety.
"I know what you did. And the next time you try to sell me out… make sure I stay dead."
Serah paled.
Caleb stiffened.
Aurora smiled like a blade unsheathing.
Game on.