Thanks to Walter Miller's timely intervention, any lingering doubts about Lyra Solis's ability to pay vanished entirely.
Immediately, a wave of suppliers surged forward, each eagerly presenting their business cards, hoping to be remembered by Lyra and gain her future favor.
As for the previously arrogant Mr. Zhang, he now stood frozen in place, utterly stunned, his expression blank and humiliated by the sudden turn of events.
Lyra accepted the cards with a gracious smile. Seeing the matter resolved, she issued a calm instruction to her assistant—those suppliers willing to accept a 10% deduction on payment would be settled immediately. The rest would be paid in full at the end of the month.
This pronouncement left the previously loudest dissenters crestfallen. They had no choice but to accept the terms—they had agreed to them, after all. With two police officers still watching nearby, causing further trouble was out of the question.
The other suppliers, those who had kept their cool, were visibly relieved. After thanking Lyra, they quietly departed. The officers, seeing their presence was no longer needed, also took their leave.
Lyra, ever mindful of etiquette, had her assistant discreetly tuck two red envelopes into the officers' bags—a token of appreciation. She thanked them sincerely before sending them on their way.
After arranging a delivery time with Walter Miller, Lyra returned to her office, drained. She slumped into her executive chair, quietly relieved that the worst had been averted.
If not for that winning lottery ticket Kael Voss had given her, she might never have made it through the day. Her grandfather's pharmaceutical company—the last legacy he left behind—would likely have crumbled in her hands.
The thought made her shiver. Gratitude welled in her heart for Kael, the man who had somehow come from ten years in the future.
Turning the ring on her finger, she whispered to herself, "I wonder what Kael's doing now. Is he still trapped somewhere... surrounded by the infected?"
Post-Apocalyptic Britain, 2025
An underground parking garage
At that very moment, Kael Voss—whom Lyra could not stop thinking about—was crawling inch by inch through the pitch-black underground car park.
He was so close to the emergency exit now.
Suddenly, a jolt of agony shot through the ring finger of his left hand—someone had stepped on it. A heavy boot pressed down hard, sending waves of pain radiating through his entire arm. Kael clenched his teeth, forcing himself not to make a sound.
The zombie that had just trampled him wore hard-soled leather shoes. If the whole hand had been crushed, the pain might have been distributed. But no—it had landed squarely on the tip of his finger, and the pain was excruciating.
There's a reason people say fingers are tied directly to the heart.
Kael's face twitched involuntarily, but he held his breath. The infected creature paused for a dreadful three seconds before it staggered off in another direction.
As soon as it left, Kael ignored the sharp pain radiating from his finger and kept crawling forward. Soon he reached the fire escape door and slowly pushed it open.
Darkness.
The stairwell beyond the door was pitch black. Kael's heart pounded as he prayed he wouldn't run into anything... unnatural in the shadows.
He slipped inside, pressing his back to the wall. Using his blade—a modified Western cavalry saber—he cautiously probed the steps ahead. After ascending three or four stairs, he reached into his backpack for a flashlight.
Drawing in a deep breath, he calculated that the car park behind him couldn't be illuminated from here. He covered the flashlight with his hand and turned it on, letting only faint threads of light spill through his fingers.
A dim glow illuminated the immediate area. Kael looked around—and nearly screamed.
A zombie lay sprawled on the steps just above him, half-reclined. Had Kael taken one more step, he would have trodden right onto its torso.
It was a male—tall, broad, with a greyish hue to his face and dull, vacant eyes that gleamed faintly. Even with a weapon in hand, dispatching it cleanly would not be easy, given the narrow space and risk.
Then Kael remembered something.
He shifted his grip on the flashlight and pointed it directly at the zombie's eyes.
The creature froze.
It let out a weak, guttural moan... and then simply stopped moving.
Kael's heart leapt with cautious joy. This technique—using light to stun them—was something a survivor he'd rescued had told him. He'd never tried it until now, and thankfully, the man hadn't lied.
Using the light as a deterrent, Kael slipped past the immobilized zombie and bounded up the stairs. By the time the creature stirred again, Kael was already on the first floor of the building.
The exertion sent fresh pain crashing through his chest.
The scratches on his knees were bleeding freely, but superficial. The internal injury from the car crash, however, was far worse. Even with a seatbelt and airbag, the impact had done damage. He couldn't ignore the sharp aches now flaring in his ribs.
But there was no time to rest.
Peering through the narrow gap between the fire doors, Kael caught sight of the world beyond.
He was inside a massive atrium-style shopping center. The central courtyard was open to the sky, sunlight pouring down through unsealed skylights overhead.
The inner courtyard stretched across thousands of square feet, landscaped into a lush garden with tall trees and blooming shrubs. Cascading vines hung like waterfalls from balconies circling the floors above, transforming the space into a surreal urban jungle.
But it was not empty.
Kael could make out shambling figures, their hunched backs and jerky movements unmistakable as they moved between the trees.
He watched them for a while, reasoning that the infected inside the building might not be as numerous as one would expect. During the initial outbreak, most civilians had probably rushed toward the exits, leaving the inner areas relatively less congested.
Still, even a conservative estimate put the number of zombies here in the hundreds. That was far too many to confront directly.
Kael fell into thought.
It stood to reason that the higher floors would have fewer infected—fewer places to flee, fewer people to get trapped. With that in mind, he decided to ascend further using the emergency stairwell.
The stairwell was quiet, sealed off from the outside world, yet Kael couldn't shake the feeling of cold air brushing against his skin. Perhaps it was the lingering trauma or his injuries, but the chill raised goosebumps along his arms despite the bright sunshine filtering through the glass above.
When he reached the fourth floor, he stopped dead.
Two women lay sprawled across the landing.
Both had collapsed with their backs facing outward. Their clothes were torn to shreds, their bodies covered in gashes and bite marks. It was clear they had been attacked while fleeing and had barely made it this far.
Kael narrowed his eyes and shone his light across their bodies.
One of them was still breathing.
Just barely—her chest moved with shallow, trembling rhythm.
Kael gripped the hilt of his saber tighter and approached slowly. He didn't know whether she was still human... or already turning.
Suddenly, the woman twisted, revealing her face—bloody and broken, yet her eyes still held a flicker of humanity. Her voice was faint, trembling:
"Help me... please... help me."
Kael frowned, eyes filled with conflict.
She was in terrible shape.
Even if he could help—which he couldn't—saving her now might mean dooming them both. If she turned, she'd be more danger than anything else. And he wasn't even sure how long he would last in his own condition.
Harsh reality left little room for compassion.
He steeled his heart and turned away, continuing his climb. But as he reached the next step, he paused and glanced back.
The woman's lips were cracked and dry. Her gaze followed him with silent desperation.
Kael stood there for a moment, torn.
A deep sigh escaped him.
He couldn't save her. But maybe, just maybe... he didn't have to let her die alone.