"Mr. Yasin, under normal circumstances, we should offer you something in return... but we have nothing left. I'm truly sorry... and I can't invite you to stay in our home. My husband just died—we're now just a widow and an orphan. We must be cautious... I hope you understand."
Gabrielle stood up, rifle in hand, her expression apologetic yet firm.
From her words and demeanor, Yasin could tell she was still wary of him—keeping him at a distance.
He understood. To them, he was still a stranger.
And Gabrielle's husband had just died.
It wouldn't be proper to let another man into their home so soon.
But at least now, she felt guilty toward him. There was a hint of warmth beneath her caution.
Not yet. The timing isn't right.
Yasin realized Gabrielle had loved her husband deeply. She was traditional, reserved. Winning over the mother and daughter wouldn't be quick or easy.
He couldn't rush this.
But he had time. He could slowly earn their trust.
He knew exactly what this woman needed.
As long as they want to survive... they'll eventually fall into my hands.
Right now, they were the ones who'd need him—not the other way around.
"Mrs. Olsen, I understand your grief—and your caution. In the apocalypse, it's always wise to be careful."
Yasin smiled, every bit the gentleman. Harmless. Likeable.
"I don't have food to spare, so I'll need to scavenge. I won't impose further. Your husband was brave, but outside... it's deadly. Unless absolutely necessary, I'd advise staying indoors."
With that, he turned to leave, no hesitation, no lingering.
The sun was high. For safety, he needed to return to the estate soon, where a stunning beauty awaited him.
"Mister!"
Melisa, who had been kneeling beside her father's body, suddenly stood. She grabbed Yasin's sleeve with trembling fingers, her big, tear-filled eyes pleading.
"Will... will you come back to see us?"
Unlike her mother, the girl's wariness had faded. Gratitude had shifted into dependence.
Human instinct. With her father gone, she needed someone new to rely on.
And Melisa clearly liked Yasin.
"Hmm..." Yasin pretended to think, then sighed regretfully.
"It's too dangerous out there. I rarely leave my place. But if I pass by again... maybe. And if I find extra food, I'll share some."
His gaze drifted to the stripped tree bark nearby. He shook his head, sighed again, then patted Melisa's head before walking away—without a backward glance.
Yasin knew: Distance would earn their trust faster. Let them realize he owed them nothing.
Then, when they were starving, desperate—when he returned with food—their gratitude would be boundless.
A little help is kindness. Too much is taken for granted.
After a lifetime of navigating society, Yasin understood this well.
"Yas—" Gabrielle bit her lip, hand half-raised as if to call him back. But then she looked down at her husband's corpse, clenched her jaw, and swallowed the words.
"Melisa, get a shovel. Let's bury your father... let him rest in peace."
Tears streamed down her face as she stared at Ken's lifeless form.
"I'm sorry, Ken... For our daughter, I have to stay strong. I have to live... I'm so sorry..."
...
Within the Clinton Estate, Vivian Sinclair leaned against the windowsill, resting her alluring face on her hands while arching her seductive, curvaceous hips. Her gaze was filled with anticipation as she looked out into the wooded backyard.
Any slight movement in the wind-stirred grass would make her face light up with excitement.
But soon, disappointment would set in again, and she would sigh as she lowered her head.
From last night until now, Vivian had been by the window, waiting for that man to return.
The long night had been torturous, filled with loneliness and restlessness, making it impossible for her to sleep. Over and over again, she would glance at the backyard, praying that the man would come back.
She didn't understand what was happening to her. It was just a single encounter, yet she had developed an immense fondness for him.
Since he had left, her mind had been consumed by his image—his expressions, his voice, and the dominating presence he had while taking down the undead.
She found herself inexplicably filled with worry and longing for him.
When she once again failed to spot him, Vivian sighed deeply, her heart growing more anxious by the second.
This restlessness made her uneasy.
"What's wrong with me? We barely just met—just one meeting… and yet… why do I care about him so much? Could it be… that I've fallen for him at first sight?"
"That's impossible… He's just an ordinary man, not particularly muscular, and not even handsome. Compared to the men who've pursued me before, how could he possibly measure up?"
Pacing the room like a girl troubled by love, Vivian clenched her fists and tapped them against her palm, occasionally stealing glances at the wooded backyard.
As a rising supermodel with an enchanting figure and captivating beauty, Vivian was the object of desire for countless elites and celebrities.
A woman like her—what man wouldn't be captivated?
Yet, despite the many admirers, whether they were dashing actors, top male models, or powerful elites, she had never been as consumed as she was now, losing sleep and overthinking because of a single man.
"But why do I miss him so much? Why do I worry about him?"
"Could it be… that I'm just lonely?"
Vivian blushed at her own thoughts.
"No way! I'm not lonely! I'm just alone and a little scared… I would never think about something like that…"
"But… I really do miss him… He promised me he'd come back once he was done with his task…"
"He wouldn't lie to me… My intuition has always been right. He will come back! There's electricity here, water, fresh fruits, and vegetables—he has no reason not to return…"
"But if he really doesn't come back… or if something happened to him… what should I do?"
"No! I have to go out and check the situation myself!"
Just as Vivian was about to summon the courage to open the door and step into the backyard, a swift figure suddenly appeared on top of the wall.
The moment she saw Yasin's silhouette, her heart pounded wildly.
It felt as if a small deer was jumping erratically in her chest, making her feel an overwhelming sense of excitement.
Before Yasin could even reach the door, Vivian hurriedly flung it open and rushed toward him.
"Are you okay? It's so dangerous out there! You really shouldn't just run off like that! Do you have any idea how worried I was about you? Have you eaten yet? I'll make you some toast… You probably haven't had fresh vegetables in a while, right? I'll go pick some and cook something for you…"
Vivian startled herself with her own rambling. When had she, the ever-proud and confident woman, become so unreserved?
Ever since meeting this man, she felt as if she had become a different person.
She found herself instinctively wanting to care for and protect him.
Yasin was also taken aback as he looked at Vivian. Her current demeanor reminded him so much of his mother.
He could feel that her concern for him was genuine.
Almost like… motherly love…
The moment that thought crossed his mind, Yasin suddenly realized something. This woman, this stunning Vivian Sinclair, whom he had only met once before, seemed to care for him in a way that reminded him of a past life.
But in this world, he hadn't altered his appearance. He still looked like himself.
Moreover, Vivian was only 25 years old. Based on the timeline, in 1993, Andy had not even been born yet!
Looking at Vivian's overwhelming affection and concern for him, a bold theory formed in Yasin's mind.
"Could it be… that across two different worlds, the same people can somehow share and influence their feelings toward me?"
As soon as that idea took root, everything started making sense.
Vivian's warmth and care toward him were exactly like the Vivian Sinclair from the second world—Vivian, who showered Andy Brant with boundless motherly love!