Chapter 124 Conflict
Samuel didn't dare eat the food directly, fearing that Steven might have poisoned it.
Doug Hall mistook Samuel's caution for generosity and devoured the offering without a second thought. Samuel and Aaron watched him intently. As minutes dragged by and Doug showed no adverse reactions, they relaxed, their tension dissolving into cautious relief.
"Alright, everyone, gather 'round! There's plenty for all of us!" Samuel called out, his voice carrying an air of reluctant hospitality.
Elsewhere, similar scenes played out in other apartment buildings, painted by the shadow of Steven's sinister reputation. Paranoia ran high; most demanded someone test the food first.
But Steven, a master manipulator, had ensured the food on the initial day was harmless, intending to lower their defenses progressively.Steven's scheme was meticulous: foster a false sense of security, incite infighting, then strike decisively, resolving every opposition in a brutally efficient manner.
That night, for the first time in a long while, those in power had their fill. Conversely, the ordinary residents, anxiously waiting for their share, held onto a fragile hope. They naively believed that there was enough sustenance for everyone, clinging to the idea of survival.
"Honey, we won't have to live in fear anymore. Someone's bringing us food; we just need to work hard," a man said, grasping optimism.
"Yes, dear. We can get through this storm! After it’s over, I want to have three kids—one like you, one like me, and one like both of us," his wife replied, her voice filled with dreams.
"Mom, Dad, it must be your blessings from heaven that have kept me going. I promise things will get better. Soon there will be no more hunger, no more killing. I'll live well," another man murmured, seeking solace in the thought of a brighter future.
That night, building managers and their loyal subordinates consumed the food meant for ten, leaving the ordinary residents clutching their empty stomachs, falling into a restless sleep filled with deceptive dreams of happiness.
The next morning.
Steven woke up around seven.
By dawn, at seven sharp, Steven awoke. His sleep was dreamless, thanks to the comfortably regulated room temperature, kept at 80°F.
As he brushed his teeth, a cacophony interrupted the morning calm. Intrigued, he strolled shirtless to the window, a devilish smile creeping across his lips.
The uproar originated from several directions; at least five or six apartment buildings were engulfed in heated disputes.
"Spencer, didn’t you promise us food if we worked? Where's the food now?" a man shouted, desperation edging his voice.
Spencer replied, trying to maintain control, "The situation is clear to everyone. We need to convene and discuss our food distribution strategy."
Another man bellowed, "Mr. Moore, we followed your instructions and worked hard, but we've received no food!"
"How dare you question me? The work you did was subpar, and you dare to demand food!" retorted the building manager Moore, his voice thick with indignation.
"But..." the man stammered.
"But what?" Moore snapped, impatience in his voice. "Work harder today, and maybe you’ll earn some food if you do a decent job!"
“We don’t have the strength to work without food!” another man cried out, joining the rising tide of dissent.
"Then don't point fingers at me! We're all struggling here, and freeloaders won't be tolerated!" a building manager yelled back, his words dripping with disdain.
“Mr. Hall, you promised us food yesterday...” The man's plea was cut short by the chilling sound of a blade slicing through flesh.
“Anyone else want to speak up about food?” Samuel’s voice rang out coldly, his grip tightening on the bloodied weapon. “Step forward if you dare! No one? Good. Remember, letting you live is my greatest mercy! Step out of line, and I’ll chop you up!”
Steven’s silent smile broadened as chaos and bloodshed unfolded according to his plan.
That morning, Steven and Elinor enjoyed a modest breakfast of freshly squeezed orange juice, bread, and fried eggs. The aroma of Elinor’s homemade meal filled the air, a stark contrast to the violence outside.
Although he had access to a plethora of gourmet delights from his extradimensional storage, Steven preferred Elinor's personal touch. He savored the quaint domesticity of having her bustling around the kitchen in nothing but an apron, embodying an idyllic—if deceptive—sense of normalcy.
By the time they finished, the clock had inched past ten. Leaving Elinor with a prepared lunch, Steven locked her in the room before heading out, masquerading his intentions as a supply run.
The neighborhood, however, was anything but serene. Under Steven's command, Henry, Walter, and Dennis had the rare privilege of overseeing the labor rather than toiling themselves. The other residents shoveled snow under the scrutinizing eyes of their building managers, their spirits visibly eroded since the previous day. The residents now appeared numb, their faces etched with anxiety and dread.
Before leaving, Steven whispered to Henry, “Stay vigilant. With food running low in other buildings, chaos is inevitable. Just protect our own and steer clear of trouble.”
Aware of Steven's strategem, Henry nodded. "Don’t worry, I'll manage it."
Only then did Steven leave the neighborhood.
After wandering for half the day, he arrived at the city library, its sturdy construction and high ceilings having spared it from being buried under the snow. The books inside, mostly dry and intact, offered a rare refuge from the present turmoil.
Once a casual scroller of images and videos online, Steven had rarely turned to books. But now, with the internet on the brink of collapse, and his digital distractions waning, he found solace in this forgotten pastime.
He selected a copy of Haruki Murakami’s “Norwegian Wood,” its weight heavy with the richness of human emotion and civilization. Slipping it into his pocket, he resolved to leave the rest untouched for future visits. Hoarding too many at once might sap his motivation to read upon returning home.
Darkness had begun to settle by the time Steven made his way back. He quickly summoned Henry and the others to maintain order before calling the residents down for food distribution.
This time, Steven noted shadowy figures peering out from the windows of each building—emaciated faces filled with desperate longing and hope, watching Steven’s every move as he doled out the precious rations.
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