My little sister Willa? Always played the noble princess—even during the freaking apocalypse.

She was pregnant and still trying to look like some graceful queen.

I told her to end it. Safer that way.

She slapped me. "Shut up. How can you be so heartless?"

Meanwhile, I skipped meals so she and her rescue-pet gang could eat. When I collapsed from hunger, she snorted. "Drama queen. Think of it as a free weight-loss plan."

I dragged her to the base, the safe zone, and nearly died doing it. She snatched the last of my rations. "The baby and I are good. Give the rest away."

I died from my injuries—frozen, starving, forgotten.

Willa? She got crowned a saint.

Even landed the baby daddy—the Deputy Governor—and kicked off her perfect little fairytale.

Then I woke up.

Back to the moment she asked me to swear I'd protect her and the baby.

This time, I laughed in her face. "Die for all I care."

"Selene, if you don't save him, I'm not going back with you."

Willa knelt in the shade, all soft sighs and glassy eyes, dripping water into some pretty boy's mouth like she was Mother Teresa.

I was roasting in the sun, shirt soaked, lips splitting, skull pounding.

With my gear strapped on and bat in hand, I kept one ear on the zombie moans creeping closer.

I braced myself. I'd take them down one by one.

"Selene, did you hear me?"

Her voice sliced through the heat, her soft face suddenly all drama and steel.

I crouched low, keeping out of a zombie's sightline. If I took out the one nearby, I'd get a breather.

"Selene!" Willa stood up, yelling. "If you don't save him, the baby and I would rather die out here!"

The guy on the ground blinked, eyes going all soft when they landed on her.

I froze.

Willa's shout turned every zombie head our way. Even the ones in the back started sprinting, shrieking.

Sweat dripped down my face.

Yeah, I was stronger than most, but not horde-level strong.

Last time, I thought Willa was just being careless. Didn't know she'd done it on purpose.

When I refused to save the guy, she flung herself into danger.

So I stayed. Fought off the swarm. Took a bite to the arm. If I hadn't sliced it off, I'd be one of them.

I barely made it back. Spent three days burning with fever.

Willa? She thought I'd turn. Told everyone not to waste food on me.

Something in me iced over. But I didn't blame her. She was my little sister. Her and the baby—that was all I had left. Surviving meant sticking together.

Once I got better, I walked her to the base.

Even with the world ending, Willa still had her standards. Said she wanted to live with dignity and grace. Said I was the older one, so taking care of her was my job.

Our parents raised me that way. I didn't question it.

Even with one arm, I always stood between her and danger. Looked after her. Put her first.

Willa hated feeling dirty, so half the water we found went to her for washing up.

She wanted to look proper, so I risked our necks just to take her outside to pee.

Willa was pregnant, and pregnant women needed double the nutrition.

So I pushed myself to the edge hunting down rare food.

I felt bad for her. Always gave her first pick. I got what was left—apple cores, scraps, whatever.

Eventually, there wasn't even that.

I went hungry.

Still, Willa complained I was useless. Couldn't even feed her and the baby.

When I finally blacked out from hunger, I muttered, "Willa, there's not enough food. Maybe it's better to give up the baby..."

She slapped me hard.

"Shut up! How can you be so cruel?"

Then came the apology—but I was already done.

I knew I couldn't keep this up. I told myself I'd protect her till we reached the base—then we were done.

We made it. I finally got my share of relief rations.

But Willa said the way I ate—cautious, starving—was embarrassing.

She yanked the food from my hands and handed it out all noble-like. "The baby and I have enough. Give the rest to others."

I wasn't dressed warm enough. No food. Just shivering in the cold.

I starved to death right outside the base gates.

Only after I died did I find out—Willa had been stashing everything I brought into her Pocket Space. Even scored big on a supply run.

Her secret hoard could've fed an entire base.

She didn't give me a single crumb.

I watched her force out a few fake tears at my funeral—then latch onto the Deputy Governor and morph into that graceful, noble, kind "saint" everyone worshipped.

***

Text lit up in the air.

[Bro, there's NO WAY Selene solos that many zombies]

[Pls, even if she can't, Tristan's right there. man's not letting the FL get touched]

[Lowkey dying to see him go all knight-in-shining-armor while Willa freezes when he says who he really is]

[LOL, Willa acts all cold but she's just a shy girl deep down. you can tell she's losing it over Tristan]

[Tristan's gaze is so soft it's unreal.]

As the comments scrolled, it hit me.

The bleeding pretty boy on the ground? Tristan Norton. The male lead. The Brentford Base Deputy Governor.

While I was out here, going full beast mode on the zombies, Willa had dragged him back to our place—safe and cozy.

In my last life, Tristan had been by her side from the start. The whole time, he mooched off my supplies, drank my water, and looked at me like I was dirt.

Willa? He treated her like she hung the moon. Total simp.

Me? I was just the help. If I stepped out of line, all he had to do was twitch his fingers—his Wind Power would've snapped me like a twig.

Those weird scars that kept popping up on my body? All him.

I slammed my bat like it could beat the rage out of me.

It wasn't until I died that I realized—this whole world was a freaking novel.

Willa was the main girl.

And I was the idiot sidekick.

I wasn't buying it.

Why was I born just to be someone else's extra?

Why did the people I loved treat me like a joke?

The chat feed didn't stop.

[Is it just me or is the side character actually kinda cool? Girl literally risked her life for Willa and her kid]

[Nah, she's just dumb. total background NPC]

[Fr, she's dead weight. story would move way faster without her]

[With Tristan around, Willa doesn't even need Selene]

[No, no, no, isn't Selene's whole thing dropping cheat codes for Willa?]

[Let's not forget, Willa's Pocket Space used to be Selene's]

[So Willa's just a straight-up thief now?]

[Lowkey feeling bad for Selene here]

[You don't gotta be so mean. The Sorrells adopted her and raised her—she owes Willa]

...

Heh.

Took me long enough, but the Chat Feed finally clicked. I was never the Sorrells' real kid. They found me on the street.

No wonder they treated me like a charity case.

All that "older siblings should give way" crap? That "big sisters must take care of the little ones" stuff from them?

Yeah. That was just for me. Straight-up brainwashing.

I smashed a zombie's skull like a baseball and blew out a breath.

Then I ran to Willa and held out my hand. Her shock flashed for half a second.

"Hurry, come with me!"

"No!" She smacked my hand like it burned. "If you won't save HIM, I'm not going!"

"Cool. Stay then. I'll get help." I spun and took off.

What kind of idiot sticks around to fight a zombie buffet?

"Wait—what?" Willa's voice cracked. "Selene? Selene! Get back here!"

I didn't even glance back.

The zombies were gaining.

Willa hesitated, her lip caught between her teeth. She looked down at Pretty Boy like she was torn.

"Sorry," she muttered. "I'll go with Selene. She needs me too. I don't want her to worry."

Then she bolted after me without looking back once.

We made it home one after the other.

The second we walked in, she turned on me in front of everyone. "Selene, that was heartless! You just stood there and let him die!"

***

I waved them over to the window.

"Ah! Zombies!" someone gasped, totally losing it.

"What the hell happened?" Panic hit fast as they spotted the swarm closing in.

"Selene? What did you do? You didn't clear them—how'd you end up dragging more here?" barked Miranda, an old granny with her hands planted on her hips.

"Yeah, Willa never freaks out like this. You must've really screwed up," some guy from the couple added.

I just arched a brow.

Willa's little strays—of course they had her back.

Still...

My lips twitched into a cold, slow smile.

I dropped the bags with a heavy thud.

Every head snapped my way.

"Anyway, enough chatting. Let's split the supplies," Miranda said, eyes practically glowing as she reached out.

Willa was faster.

"Hmph, like passing out stuff erases what you did. Cold as ever," she scoffed, already clutching a bag.

I kicked it out of her reach. "Who said you could touch that?"

"What?" She blinked at the black boot mark smeared across her hand like it was fake.

"You're bullying Willa! I'll beat you up!" Perry, Miranda's grandson, came barreling in like an angry toddler.

I drop-kicked him back without blinking.

The boy flew back a solid two meters and slammed into the floor.

"Waaahhh..." He rolled around sobbing like I'd shattered his whole life.

"Keep it down or I'll toss you to the zombies," I said, ice-cold.

Naturally, the brat just wailed louder.