After an altered rendition of Amazing Grace came to an end, a heavy silence settled over the room. Calista turned to face the crowd.
"Thank you all for attending my mother's memorial service…"
After speaking, she dabbed the corner of her eyes with a handkerchief, then added with a hint of humor,
"My mother came to me in a dream last night and asked me to remind everyone to stock up on food, water, and medicine at home. She said the days ahead won't be as comfortable as Sequoyah Hills!"
(Sequoyah Hills — Knoxville's historic elite neighborhood)
A few good-natured chuckles rose from the audience.
Calista blinked. That was as far as she could take the warning. If she said anything more about apocalyptic viruses, people would probably think she'd lost her mind.
After the memorial ended, most of the guests left.
Aside from Calista and Leah, only a few of Margaret's friends and a group of mercenaries remained for the burial that followed.
Several well-dressed men of "appropriate age" had originally planned to come over and say a few more words to Calista before leaving.
But when they saw Leah standing beside her like a wall, radiating a clear don't come any closer aura and showing no intention of stepping aside, they all quietly backed off.
...
When the flames inside the cremation furnace rose, Leah finally spoke—the first thing she had said to her sister since they met that day.
"Cremation?"
Most Americans preferred burial these days. Wealthy families especially tended to purchase burial plots and coffins well in advance.
"Mom arranged it a long time ago. She loved nature. She believed that once the soul goes to heaven, the body is just an empty shell with no meaning."
Leah gave no particular reaction.
Calista quietly apologized to Margaret in her heart.
She didn't know if that had really been Margaret's belief. She only knew one thing—
If Margaret wasn't cremated, she might be climbing out of the ground in a month!
At the reception after the funeral, Margaret's friends and the pastor came over to say goodbye. Calista repeated the same stock-up advice to each of them.
Some nodded thoughtfully.
Others gently suggested she see a therapist, assuming she was simply being sensitive after the accident and the dream about Margaret.
Calista felt helpless. She had really done her best.
If she could latch onto a powerful protector before the apocalypse arrived, that would already be a huge success. She didn't have the energy to keep trying to convince everyone else that the end of the world was coming.
People were selfish.
She was no exception.
All she could do was make sure she survived.
As the sun dipped toward the horizon, Calista sent off the final guest. Lifting the hem of her dress, she walked toward the group of towering mercenaries.
The young man at the front whistled, his eyes blatantly roaming over her from head to toe.
Laughter erupted from the men behind him.
"Damn, I've never seen a girl this hot!"
"Looks like a movie star!"
"If she starred in a film, I'd buy tickets until the box office exploded!"
Calista raised an eyebrow. Before she could say anything, a chill suddenly crept up behind her.
The few men who had been joking instantly felt the hairs on the back of their necks stand on end.
Leah's voice was freezing.
"Shut your damn mouths! If you're done eating, get your asses in the cars!"
...
The afterglow over the Appalachian Mountains dyed the Humvee convoy amber.
At the front drove Calista's newly purchased Knight XV.
Leah had originally planned to drive her own Humvee, but the moment Calista brought out her new ride, the mercenaries' eyes lit up.
Leah swallowed involuntarily.
"I thought a delicate rich girl like you would prefer a pink sports car."
Calista recalled the row of flashy, brightly colored cars in the original owner's garage and curled her lips.
"I used to like those."
But that was before.
Now she was here.
She'd even love a beat-up mutt of a car.
Especially a big beast like this—something that could give her a sense of security in the apocalypse.
So now Calista had changed into a simple black outfit and curled up in the passenger seat beside Leah.
Behind them followed five modified Humvees packed with mercenaries.
Turner, the young machine gunner from Leah's team, sat in the back seat with his combat boots—crusted with dried blood—propped up on the vehicle's built-in cooler. The car's original fragrance had been completely overwhelmed by the smell of male sweat.
Calista glanced over—and her mouth dropped open in shock before she quickly turned her head away.
Holy shit!
That was where she used to keep her chilled face masks and rose essential oil!
It had been the last bit of elegance she stubbornly maintained before the apocalypse.
Calista remembered that Reaper Turner had been Leah's closest teammate in the original story. Leah treated him like a younger brother.
Unfortunately, Negan eventually smashed his skull in.
Building a good relationship with Leah was essential. She also couldn't ignore the mercenaries' favorability—after all, they would be her protectors in the apocalypse.
But this?
This she couldn't tolerate.
Turner had absolutely no sense of hygiene!
These men had zero awareness that they were guests!
She stared wide-eyed at Turner's swinging boot, silently fuming.
At first, the machine gunner didn't think much of it. He looked back at the beautiful girl with a teasing expression, like she was an angry cat with puffed-up fur.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three seconds…
Turner started sweating.
Under Calista's silent accusation, he awkwardly lowered his foot and turned his head away.
From the driver's seat, Leah had been watching the whole thing out of the corner of her eye. A faint smile tugged at her lips—one she didn't even realize she'd made.
...
Inside Great Smoky Mountains National Park, the convoy passed the famous resort at the foot of the mountains—Blackberry Farm—and continued deeper into the remote wilderness.
When the massive carved iron gates slowly opened, Turner practically sprang up from the back seat at the sight of the grand complex ahead.
"Damn! Is this a fucking castle?!"
Calista had asked the estate's gardeners, the Howard couple, to light the gas lamps in advance.
Dozens of flames flickered in the dusk, their glow reflected in the mirror-like lake surrounding the manor.
"Welcome to Twilight Manor… our home~"
She paused deliberately, and sure enough, she saw something stir in Leah's eyes.
Leah, I've devoted my entire lifetime of acting to you!
Come on—spoil this delicate flower!
As she stepped out of the car, the pearl bracelet on her left wrist "accidentally" caught on Leah's tactical belt, pulling her forward half a step.
Turner, behind them, reached out to help—but Leah's warning cough froze him in place.
Leah grabbed Calista's arm to steady her. As soon as she regained her balance, Leah immediately let go, saying nothing.
Calista didn't mind the quick withdrawal. Instead, she smiled gratefully at her sister, then turned to signal for the other vehicles to drive in.
All those strategy posts she'd read online hadn't been for nothing!
These little scheming tricks really worked.
Leah's attitude was already starting to soften.
The manor gates slowly closed.
After getting out of the cars, the mercenaries burst into exclamations one after another, like a bunch of country bumpkins visiting a grand palace.
Carver, leading the group, spat a bit of tobacco toward the iron gate and turned to Calista.
"Hey. Is this where your Barbie doll lives?"
Truthfully, Calista wasn't short.
She was 175 cm tall and weighed 62kg (about 138 pounds), with obvious curves and a touch of youthful innocence.
But standing among these towering mercenaries, she did look somewhat petite.
After all, Leah herself was 180 cm tall.
"Barbie doll" rolled her eyes.
"This is where two princesses and thirty-one knights live!"