Chapter 97
"Damn it, he’s doing this on purpose!" Bill snarled, his voice rising. "Let’s do this—smash the door! Once we’re inside, everything in there is ours!"
His words electrified the crowd.
Gripping whatever makeshift weapons they had, they struck harder, faster.
Bang—bang—bang!
The blows echoed through the stairwell.
Inside, Richard watched calmly.
When the timing felt right, he pressed a red button.
With a soft mechanical click, a narrow slit opened above the door.
A faint stream of red smoke began to seep out.
At first, no one noticed.
Then, someone sniffed.
"What... what’s that smell?—Ah-choo!"
A sudden sneeze.
Then another.
And another.
Soon, people were sneezing uncontrollably—four, five times in a row, their noses itching, burning, impossible to resist.
"What the hell—ah-choo!—ah-choo! Damn it—ah-choo!!"
One after another, they doubled over, eyes watering, noses running, their bodies wracked with relentless sneezing.
Any thought of breaking down the door vanished.
The once-aggressive crowd dissolved into chaos—half-blinded, gasping, sneezing uncontrollably.
Even those further down caught the drifting red powder, joining in the miserable chorus.
A few, standing farther back, noticed the strange particles in the air and hurriedly retreated, managing to avoid the worst of it.
Inside, Richard burst out laughing.
"Not bad... this stuff really works."
Against a crowd like this, it was more than enough.
They wouldn’t recover for hours—maybe longer.
And without strength, how could they keep attacking?
One by one, people began to retreat, humiliated and coughing.
The first assault was a complete failure.
Richard glanced at the now-empty stairwell and smiled in satisfaction.
If they wanted to come again, he wouldn’t mind.
He had more than enough "toys" waiting.
As long as he stayed inside his safehouse—he was untouchable.
—
Setting down his tablet, Richard picked up his phone.
Hannah had messaged him earlier—she must have heard the commotion too.
[Are you okay? They’ve already gone up—you need to be careful.]
[Richard, are you alright?]
Without hesitation, he tapped the video call button.
It rang.
Five seconds later, she answered.
Her face appeared on screen.
Hollow cheeks. Pale lips. A gaunt, exhausted look.
She hadn’t been living well.
Once, that sight would have torn at his heart.
Now... It only pleased him.
The once untouchable Hannah... reduced to this—and still forcing a gentle, ingratiating smile for him.
How satisfying.
"Richard... are you okay?" she asked, concern painted across her face.
"I’m fine. They’ve already left," he said lightly, rising and walking toward the fridge.
Through the camera, Hannah caught a glimpse of his surroundings—clean, bright, untouched by hardship.
For a split second, her expression twisted.
But she forced it back into softness.
"You... look a bit worn out lately," Richard said casually. "Not eating enough?"
Hannah’s gaze flickered.
She placed a hand over her stomach, her voice weak. "Yeah... we’ve run out of food. I’ve been starving every day. Do I... look worse now?"
Her pale fingers brushed her cheek, her eyes filled with feigned fragility.
She meant to evoke sympathy.
To make him soften.
Maybe even let her move in.
Instead, Richard’s reply hit like a blade.
"Yeah," he said bluntly. "You look a lot worse. I almost didn’t recognize you. You’ve gotten so thin it’s... kind of alarming."
Her smile froze.
The humiliation hit instantly.
She had tried to appear pitiful and ended up being mocked.
For a moment, she nearly lost control.
Richard.
That idiot.
That former lapdog... How dare he?!
She forced herself to steady her expression, swallowing the surge of rage.
Across the screen, Richard watched every flicker of emotion with quiet amusement.
This was exactly what he wanted.
If she could watch all this and feel nothing, then he would be the one dissatisfied.
But the more she burned with envy, the more it soothed him.
"I’m hungry after all that," he said casually, stepping up to the fridge.
He turned the camera toward it—
Click.
The door swung open.
"I’ll just throw something together."
The lens captured everything.
A double-door fridge packed to the brim.
Fresh vegetables. Bright fruits. Premium cuts of meat. Even a delicate little box of cream desserts.
Under the soft interior light, everything gleamed—rich, abundant, irresistible.
Hannah’s eyes locked onto the screen.
Her throat tightened as she swallowed.
Her own fridge had long since become a hollow shell—powerless, empty, useless.
Not even a wilted leaf remained.
And here... He had all of this.
What kind of life was he living?
Were they even in the same world anymore?
The door closed.
Only then did she snap back to herself.
"R-Richard... you still have so much food at home..." Her voice carried a trace of bitterness she couldn’t hide.
"Is that a lot?" he said lightly. "You get used to it."
He set the phone down on the counter, the camera still capturing his movements.
"I’ll just make a couple of simple dishes."
Water ran from the tap—clear, steady.
Hannah’s eyes widened.
Water.
He could still use water so freely!
In a world where water had become precious beyond measure.
Jealousy surged through her like fire. She wanted to hang up.
But she couldn’t.
Somewhere deep down, she still clung to hope.
He had once adored her.
Maybe... this was all just to provoke her.
Maybe there was still a chance.
The oil hit the pan with a sharp hiss.
The steak followed, releasing a rich, savory aroma that seemed to seep through the screen.
Hannah swallowed hard.
"Richard... you’re such a good cook. Are you making a boneless steak?" she asked, licking her dry lips.
"Yeah."
"I remember... you made that for me before. It tasted really good. I wonder if I could still—"
"You didn’t like it," Richard cut in. "I remember you threw it away."
Her expression stiffened. "I... I just—"
"Let’s not talk about the past." He lifted a finished piece toward the camera.
Glossy. Tender. Coated in thick, rich sauce.
Mouthwatering.
Especially to someone starving.
Her stomach clenched painfully.
She wanted it. So badly.
Richard took a bite, then nodded in satisfaction. "Not bad this time."
He picked up his phone again.
"That’s enough chatting. I’m going to eat. You should get something too, Hannah. Take care of yourself."
The call ended.
And in that instant—
Whatever restraint Hannah had left... snapped.