The Belmira market district was alive with noise.
Jules wove through narrow lanes lined with stalls and open-front shops. Vendors called to passing customers, bargaining over prices while children darted between the crowds. The smell of smoked fish mingled with fresh bread, roasted grains, and spices carried on the afternoon breeze.
For a moment, it almost felt like any other day.
Almost.
A man stood behind a sizzling grill, turning flatbread wraps stuffed with spiced meat and vegetables. Across from him, an elderly woman arranged river fish skewers marinated in citrus and herbs. Nearby, golden slices of fried root vegetables crackled in hot oil, while another vendor stacked freshly steamed grain cakes into neat rows.
Jules slowed beside the stalls.
She remembered these foods.
Not necessarily this market or these particular vendors, but the smells, the colors, the abundance.
In her first life, she had never imagined that something as ordinary as a loaf of bread could become worth killing for.
Three months after the apocalypse began, her family had been starving.
They had followed the government's instructions, believing that supplies would eventually arrive. They had waited in lines, rationed what little they possessed, and trusted people who promised help.
The food never came.
We waited.
The memory surfaced so suddenly that Jules stopped walking.
We waited until there was nothing left to eat.
A customer brushed past her shoulder, muttering an apology.
Jules blinked.
The market returned around her.
A vendor was laughing. Someone was arguing over the price of vegetables. A child begged his mother for another skewer.
Everything was still here.
Jules approached the nearest stall.
"How much for the grain cakes?"
The vendor smiled and named a price.
"I'll take six."
She purchased several wraps, grain cakes, and fried root slices before moving farther into the market.
The cooked food was for later.
The seeds were what interested her most.
She found a shop specializing in agricultural supplies, its shelves crowded with packets, jars, and small containers labeled with different varieties of vegetables, herbs, and grains.
Jules spent nearly an hour examining the selection.
She chose seeds that could produce food quickly, varieties that stored well, and others she remembered surviving difficult growing conditions.
Some were familiar.
Others were plants she had seen cultivated only after the world changed.
She couldn't know whether every variety would survive the coming disasters, but she had learned that relying on a single crop was dangerous.
In her second life, mutated plants had destroyed entire stretches of farmland.
In another, the soil itself had become nearly impossible to cultivate.
Food production had to be protected.
And she had something this time that she'd never possessed before.
The private-dimensional land.
The System had described its soil as fertile, and the stream contained energy-infused water.
Vital flux.
If she could grow enough food there, her family might never have to depend entirely on outside supplies again.
But she still didn't know everything about that place.
She didn't know whether anyone else could enter.
She didn't know how much land could be cultivated immediately.
And she didn't know what limitations the System might reveal later.
Jules purchased a selection of seeds and agricultural supplies, arranging for the larger quantities to be brought to a loading area.
Then she continued shopping.
Dried grains.
Beans.
Salt.
Cooking oil.
Preserved vegetables.
Flour.
Medical necessities that could be purchased without a prescription.
Basic tools.
Anything that could be useful when stores stopped opening and deliveries stopped arriving.
By the time she finished, she had purchased far more than she could reasonably carry.
Which was exactly why she needed a vehicle.
A rental shop stood several streets away from the market.
Jules entered, reviewed the available vehicles, and selected a cargo truck large enough to accommodate the purchases waiting for collection.
The employee looked mildly surprised.
"Moving?"
"Something like that."
He glanced at the rental period.
"Just for today?"
"Yes."
After completing the paperwork, Jules collected the keys and returned to the market.
Loading the truck took longer than she expected.
Workers carried boxes from the agricultural shop while Jules checked the quantities against her receipts. Several vendors helped arrange the larger purchases in the cargo area.
She thanked them, closed the rear doors, and climbed into the driver's seat.
From the outside, she looked like someone who had spent an unreasonable amount of money preparing for a move.
That was fine.
It was better than having anyone watch hundreds of pounds of supplies disappear into thin air.
Jules drove away from the crowded market and found a quiet place to park.
She checked the mirrors.
No pedestrians nearby.
No one approaching the truck.
She climbed out and walked to the rear.
The cargo doors opened with a metallic rattle.
Boxes were stacked nearly to the ceiling.
Jules looked at them.
Store.
There was no need to touch anything.
No phone.
No command spoken aloud.
Only intent.
The supplies vanished.
One moment, the cargo area was packed with food, seeds, and equipment.
The next, it was empty.
Jules stood quietly, listening to the distant traffic.
No one shouted.
No footsteps hurried toward her.
Nothing suggested anyone had noticed.
She closed the doors.
The System's storage was one of the greatest advantages she'd ever been given.
In her previous lives, gathering supplies had always been a struggle. Even when her family managed to collect enough food, transporting and protecting it had created new dangers.
Vehicles broke down.
Warehouses were raided.
Supplies were stolen.
And sometimes, they had been forced to abandon everything simply to stay alive.
Not this time.
She returned to the driver's seat.
The truck's empty cargo area was almost amusing.
She had rented an entire vehicle to transport goods that no longer occupied any physical space.
But appearances mattered.
Especially now.
She couldn't afford to attract attention before the apocalypse even began.
By the time Jules finished her errands, the afternoon was slipping toward evening.
She returned the cargo truck, collected her belongings, and began making her way toward the train station.
Her phone buzzed.
Another supplier confirmation.
She checked the delivery schedule.
Several orders were expected within the next two weeks. Others would take longer, particularly those arriving from overseas.
She frowned at the estimated arrival dates.
Some were uncomfortably close to the ninety-day deadline.
She would need to contact the suppliers again.
Expedited shipping was expensive.
But money would become meaningless if the goods arrived after the world fell apart.
She opened her banking notifications.
Her father's card had been charged repeatedly throughout the day.
Warehouses.
Supplies.
Transportation.
The apartment deposit.
Jules stared at the transactions.
I'm definitely getting interrogated when I get home.
She could already imagine her father's expression.
Kaelen was a businessman. He understood money, contracts, and investments.
What he wouldn't understand was why his daughter had suddenly begun spending enormous amounts on warehouses, survival equipment, and real estate.
She slipped the phone into her pocket.
That was a problem for later.
For now, she needed to focus on something else.
Floor Twenty-Two.
The penthouse remained under contract, but the investigation involving Cortell Holdings had created an opening.
She didn't know exactly when the sale would fall through.
She didn't even know whether it would happen the same way as it had in her eighth life.
The ninth timeline was already proving that memories weren't guarantees.
Kian had secured Floors Nineteen through Twenty-One.
That much she knew.
But she didn't know when he would arrive in Clearwater.
And once the penthouse became available, she couldn't afford to hesitate.
I need that floor.
Apartment 18A was nothing more than a temporary foothold.
It wasn't where she intended to establish her family's permanent refuge.
The System had made that clear.
The Apex Node was on Floor Twenty-Two.
Without control of the penthouse, she couldn't deploy the core or begin working toward upgrades for the entire tower.
Even after acquiring it, she would still have missions to complete.
Missions she knew nothing about.
Jules looked toward Pinnacle Tower one final time.
The building rose above Clearwater, its windows reflecting the fading sunlight.
It looked secure.
Almost untouchable.
But Jules knew how easily that illusion could be shattered.
She had seen entire cities swallowed by floodwaters.
Buildings torn apart by earthquakes.
Streets buried beneath debris.
And then there were the things that came afterward.
The gas.
The unnatural sleep.
The zombies.
The creatures that continued changing long after humanity believed it understood them.
If I can reinforce the tower before any of that happens…
She stopped herself.
First, she needed the penthouse.
Then she could worry about what the System demanded.
The train was less crowded on the return journey.
Jules found a seat near the window and watched Clearwater disappear behind her.
Her reflection stared back from the glass.
For a while, she simply sat there.
She had accomplished more in one day than she had managed in the opening weeks of some of her previous lives.
And yet it wasn't enough.
There were still supplies to organize, shipments to track, and arrangements to make.
Her family knew almost nothing.
They believed she was preparing for college.
They believed the world would continue as it always had.
And she had allowed them to believe it.
Two weeks.
That was the deadline she'd given herself.
Two weeks before she told her parents the truth.
But there was someone she could speak to sooner.
Someone who might actually listen.
Jules took out her phone and scrolled through her contacts.
Selina.