The old man selling sweet potatoes lifted his head slowly. His eyes, clouded with age, softened when he saw the polite young woman in front of him. Most people who bought sweet potatoes nitpicked or complained, refusing pieces that looked too small or too big. Some even demanded new ones if the slightest crack appeared.
But this girl didn't fuss at all.
His gratitude showed in his voice as he pointed ahead with his trembling hand.
"See that road up there? Walk straight, then turn left at the end. A few meters more and you'll reach the seed station. Things there are cheap."
Mary nodded, storing the directions in her mind. "Thank you, Grandpa. These sweet potatoes look delicious. I'll come buy more next time."
The old man's wrinkled face warmed, the corners of his mouth lifting ever so slightly.
Mary walked off while nibbling on one of the roasted sweet potatoes, sweet aroma filling the air. She followed the old man's directions and soon arrived at a small cluster of three houses with a wooden sign: Seed Station
She pushed the door open. Inside, a woman in her forties was arranging neatly labeled packets on a counter.
The woman glanced up. "Sister, what seeds are you looking for? Everything here has a price tag under it."
Mary scanned the shelves quickly. "Two hundred grams of every vegetable seed you have. And five kilograms each of corn and rice."
The woman almost dropped the packet in her hand.
It wasn't often someone bought this many seeds. Most people could barely afford a handful, much less several varieties.
But she recovered quickly and began packaging them with practiced hands, scribbling the names on each packet.
"Sister, who buys so many seeds?" she asked curiously, her tone half hopeful—maybe she had found a long-term customer.
Mary admired how quickly the woman worked despite the flimsy packaging. "I'm from the factory. Buying to plant at home."
The woman's eyes brightened. "In that case, let me add a little extra cabbage seed. If you plant it now, you'll be able to eat it in half a month."
She tied up the bundles and handed them over.
Mary smiled warmly. "Thank you. If I need more, I'll come again. By the way, this is my first time here. Where's the market?"
The woman stepped outside, pointing left. "Go through that alley. You'll see it right away. Everything is sold there. There should be fish too."
Mary thanked her, paid the bill, and left.
Once she was sure no one was watching, she quietly sent all the seeds into her space.
Exploring the Market, Mary found it was lively and disorderly, filled with the scent of vegetables, frying oil, and moist earth. Mary bought peppers, cucumbers, and a few cheap vegetables—just as Kristen said, a few shillings went a long way.
But she needed one more thing.
Fish.
Cleo had practically drooled when Mary informed the spirit cat.
After some searching, she found a small, lonely stall. A man in his forties sat behind a shallow basin of fish, head lowered, expression unreadable. The fish looked thin and small—not easy to sell, probably caught locally.
"How much for one jin?" Mary asked.
The man lifted his head slowly. "Five Pounds a kilo regardless of the fish type."
Mary didn't hesitate. "I'll buy all of them. Can it be a bit cheaper?"
He paused, thinking for a long moment. "Then, I'll give you four Pounds a kilo. I'll weigh them. Do you want me to kill them?"
"No need," Mary said quickly. "I want them alive."
That finally made him look at her properly. But he said nothing, simply began weighing the fish one by one, pouring water into each bag to keep them alive.
"Sixty Pounds in total," he said in a bit of excitement. This was a big purchase for him, after all.
Mary handed over the money without blinking. Fish were extremely valuable for her plans—they'd thrive in the spring water and feed Cleo for months.
Once the man handed over the bags, she slipped into an empty corner and transferred the fish into her space.
After buying a few more small things for dinner, she headed to the bus stop. She made sure to take out a couple of fish from the space beforehand—she needed something to carry home, otherwise it would look too suspicious.
On the Bus Home, the ticket girl saw her again and grinned. "Done shopping? I'm Elise. I'm twenty-one—probably older than you."
Mary smiled back. "I'm Mary. I'm eighteen. In that case, I'll call you Sister Elise."
She boarded the bus, found a seat near the window, and let her thoughts drift as the vehicle rattled down the long road. The setting sun painted everything gold.
She felt… content. And quite Hopeful.
For the first time, she was looking forward to returning to that small home.
Meanwhile, Ryan came home early—he hurried, almost ran.
But the house was empty.
He spotted the note on the table immediately.
"I'm going to the city. I'll be back tonight. —Mary"
He exhaled sharply, part relief, part worry.
It was nearly 5:30 p.m.
The sky was visibly darkening.
Liverton was large. The roads were long. And she was a young woman traveling alone.
Ryan didn't hesitate.
He locked the door and strode out, heading straight toward the bus station.
He wasn't going to let her come home alone in the dark.
*
When the bus finally screeched to a stop, Mary felt as though her stomach had been flipped inside-out. The stench of gasoline clung to her nose, and the rough bumps of the road still shook her bones. She stepped off the bus quickly, breathing in the crisp evening air to steady herself.
Before she could gather her bearings, a familiar figure rushed toward her.
Ryan had clearly been waiting—eyes searching the road, shoulders tense. The moment he spotted her, his expression softened with visible relief.
She was carrying several bags, arms full.
Without hesitation, he stepped up and took most of the weight from her hands.
"Wife," he scolded gently, "why did you go all the way to the city? You know you get carsick. What could've been so urgent? If you fainted on the way, what then?"
Mary blinked.
She hadn't expected him to come pick her up.
Had he rushed here? For her?
A strange warmth bloomed inside her chest, something unfamiliar and tender. In a world she had just entered—where everything felt uncertain—someone had come looking for her.
It eased her dizziness, just a little.
She grumbled lightly, "Last time I got carsick, I thought it was just a cold. Today I realized it's the gasoline smell! And the road is so bumpy…"
Ryan stopped and turned to her with concern etched deeply across his face. "Are you alright? Can you still walk? If not, I'll carry you."
Mary almost choked at the thought.
Yeah, right, as if you can…
She waved both hands quickly. "No, no! Just carry the things. I'll drink water when we get back."
Ryan nodded—but instead of stepping away, he reached out and took her hand.
Her heart skipped.
His hand was large and warm, enveloping hers completely. His fingers were slightly calloused, steady, protective. She realized she had never really felt his touch before—not like this.
Mary looked at their intertwined hands.
This is my man.
And in that moment, Ryan seemed more handsome than ever. She had always been strong, always relied on herself. But deep inside, she too wanted someone who cared, someone who stood by her without motives or schemes.
In the apocalypse, many men approached her greedily, offering gifts, attention, or fake affection. Not one of them had truly loved her. The few who weren't scheming were simply not handsome enough.
She was a shameless lover of beauty—always had been.
And Ryan?
He was steady. Caring. Handsome in a clean, quiet way. Even in rustic clothes, he looked good. And he cooked. And he worried.
At that moment, Mary made a decision in her heart: If Ryan passed her test, she would keep him for life. She would make him inseparable from her—her man forever.
Just as that sweet realization settled inside her, she heard whispers behind them.
"Look, isn't that Ryan?"
"Who is he holding hands with?"
"Must be his wife. Poor guy, I heard she's really fat and not pretty…"
Mary's enhanced hearing caught every word. Her lips twitched.
Fat?
Fine. She would lose weight. Easy.
These two women were clearly jealous—sour grapes in cheap dresses pretending to be refined. In her eyes, the dresses were wrinkled and thin, obvious signs of poverty and envy.
Mary moved closer to Ryan deliberately, almost brushing against him, giving the gossipers a sideways glance. The weather was chilly at night. These women were wearing light dresses, shivering but trying to look elegant.
She couldn't help snorting inside.
Trying to look fancy when you're dirt-poor… how sad.
Ryan was too focused on her, not on the gawkers. He tightened his grip slightly.
"Wife, are you dizzy again? You look pale. Should I carry you? You seem confused."
She shook her head, smiling as gently as spring water. "I'm fine. Let's go home. I'm hungry. I'll make something good for you tonight."
Her smile hit him like a punch to the chest.
Ryan stopped walking.
For a moment, he simply stared at her—at the curve of her lips, the softness in her eyes. He had seen many pretty women before. But none of them had ever struck him the way Mary just did.
That smile could melt steel. At the same time, he could she had gotten slightly slimmer.
Before he could respond, a voice chirped nearby.
"Brother Ryan, is this sister-in-law? Hurry and introduce us!"
Ryan blinked, snapping out of his trance. He finally noticed someone approaching—a young woman with a forced smile he didn't recognize.
He frowned slightly. "Who are you?"