Chapter 1

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."

Chapter 1

"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.

Chapter 2

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]

Chapter 3

[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.

Chapter 4

In my last life, Perry was a menace. He couldn't sleep at night and insisted on having someone play with him.

That noise attracted zombies to where we were staying.

I had to risk my neck clearing the safe zone—again.

Meanwhile, Willa wouldn't shut up about the noise wrecking her nerves. Worried it'd "stress out" her and the baby, I went to shut things down.

Didn't expect just calling out Perry would make Miranda lose it. She started flailing and screeching.

And right on cue, Willa stepped into the spotlight—telling me to let it go.

She'd been whining nonstop, but now she wanted to play the saint.

"Zombies can be killed again, but a child's only childhood should be cherished."

Please. What a steaming pile of crap.

Miranda ate that line up. After that, she was on me nonstop, always poking, always whining.

And just like that, I became the group's official villain—selfish, disruptive, the so-called threat to "group harmony."

Too bad for them, I wasn't playing nice this time.

I grabbed Perry and shoved his head deep into the couch cushions.

Instant volume drop.

"Stop it! Bullying a helpless grandma and her grandson—have you no shame?!" Miranda shrieked, flapping her arms.

I held up a finger. "Shh. Listen."

The growling outside? Way louder now.

Took them long enough to notice.

"What's going on?" the woman from the couple whispered.

The howls in the stairwell echoed loud and clear.

"S-Sounds like they're coming up..."

Silence dropped like a weight. Everyone went ghost-pale.

All eyes landed on me, waiting for answers.

I let Perry go. He bolted to Miranda, shaking like a leaf.

I shrugged, nodded at Willa. "Ask her. She wanted to play hero, so I ran for backup. Locked the door behind me..."

I turned to her. "So not only did you flop the rescue, you forgot to lock the main door?"

Heads swiveled. Willa started shaking, furious. "You're horrible! I was trying to save someone! You could've helped—he died because of you!"

I stared like she'd lost her mind. "You're giving me way too much credit. You dragged a whole horde over here and thought what, I'd solo them? I figured you had some hidden power, the way you charged in. But that was it?"

Zombies hit the sixth floor, clawing at the door.

Everyone froze.

I didn't. I looked straight at Willa. "You made this mess. Clean it up."

"Selene?!" Willa gawked like I'd slapped her. "How can you treat me like this? Aren't you my sister?"

I laughed. "Oh, now I'm your sister? I'm the older one, not your maid. You're dead weight. Can't lift, can't carry, just eat and whine. And now you've got a baby? Be real. If we weren't related, you think I'd have kept you around?"

I grabbed a big bag, dropped a smaller one on the floor.

"Guess I spoiled you too much. That's why you forgot your lane. These people? You dragged them in. Not my problem."

I nudged the bag toward her. "Enough for you and the kid. Whether you share it? Up to you."

Then I looked around.

"The rest of you? Don't bother me. I don't owe you anything."

In my last life, they called me selfish for not sharing supplies.

Chapter 5

I didn't care. I nearly died getting those rations—for my family.

Turns out, Willa had been handing them out behind my back. Just to hear a few thank-yous. Then she flipped it on me, said I never comforted her, never cared about her feelings. Claimed I was always breathing fire, scaring everyone off.

They ate my food, used my stuff, clung to me to stay alive.

But when things went south? They were the first to throw me under.

Whatever. Let Saint Willa deal with them.

***

Willa looked wrecked—just stood there like some sad statue.

Head tilted at the perfect angle, of course. Tears rolled down her flawless cheeks in slow motion.

Stubborn. Haloed. All tragic-heroine vibes without saying a word.

Red eyes. Pouty lips.

Total drama queen.

Made my flatbread taste amazing.

I kept chewing, soaking it in.

No wonder she was the female lead. Girl weaponized beauty.

The chat feed lit up:

[Wait, is the plot kinda off?]

["Kinda off"? It's in another galaxy.]

[Selene dipped without blinking—I nearly choked laughing.]

[What about the baby? Tristan's dead, Willa's alone—Selene's a monster.]

The bedroom door creaked.

Cough, cough.

Enzo staggered out, face burning with fever.

He clocked Miranda pocketing supplies but stayed quiet, dragging himself over to sit next to me.

"Don't be mad." He patted my head.

Then glanced at Willa—still crying like she trained for it—and sighed. "You two've been at it since forever. Isn't it time to stop? I heard everything. Don't talk to Willa like that. She's just... too nice. So nice it's stupid. You're the older one—can't you cut her some slack?"

He gave me that soft, pitying look like I was some brat who didn't know better.

I finished my flatbread, looked up. "Hm? When'd your hands come loose? Turn around."

I grabbed a rope and tied him back up quick.

"Whew. Close one."

Enzo had a sketchy little wound and a fever that wouldn't quit. For safety, he agreed to be tied up—just in case things went sideways.

Last time, I couldn't bring myself to restrain him. Locked him in my room instead.

Bad call. The bite was real.

He didn't turn zombie—ended up with a Power instead—but nothing's guaranteed now. I wasn't taking any chances.

"Selene, I know you're upset. I'm your boyfriend. I just want you to be happy. You care so much about Willa... and the baby. I'm scared you'll regret this."

Tch. What a buzzkill.

I smacked him. Hard.

His gold-rimmed glasses slipped sideways.

Then I gave his cheek a light pat. "Shut up, trash."

***

I dragged him back into the bedroom.

"Selene, untie me. Let's just talk." He flopped onto the bed, shirt bunched up, skin flushed and sweaty.

"Enzo." I brushed his face. "You're dying or what?"

Chapter 6

"What are you even saying?" He gave a shaky laugh. "Don't jinx me."

"If you're dying, and we've never done it after all this time... kinda sad, right? I'm curious what feverish Enzo feels like." I leaned in, voice low.

"You—" He jerked, face twisted. "That's not funny, haha..."

I didn't answer. My hand was already sliding down.

"Wait!" he blurted, full panic now. "Okay, fine! I was bitten. If you sleep with me... you'll get infected."

I laughed softly, pulling my hand back. "So that's the truth."

Never actually planned to sleep with him. Just wanted to see if he'd crack.

Sure enough, the chat feed went wild:

[Shameless tramp! Still clinging to Willa's leftovers!]

[Even if he's just one of her simps, he belongs to Willa!]

[Omg Selene's smile is fire—literally gasped.]

[Hands off! He's not yours!]

...

A few backed me up, but most were straight-up hate.

Guess Enzo never really liked me after all.

Last time, he died protecting Willa. I didn't think twice—figured he cared because I did.

But the chat feed clued me in.

The Palmers lived next door. Enzo grew up with us. He'd always been into Willa.

When he finally confessed, she said, "Sorry, Selene likes you... I can't..."

She didn't want him, but she didn't want to lose his loyalty either. So, as usual, she threw me under the bus.

Enzo blamed me for getting in the way. But sticking with me let him stay close to her. He was fine with that.

He even made some dramatic vow as a kid—said he'd never touch any girl but Willa. Saving himself for her.

We were together eight years. He never laid a finger on me.

I remembered when we were little—Willa snatched my pendant.

That emerald pendant had been mine for as long as I could remember. When Willa snatched it, my gut reaction was to snatch it right back.

Before I could, Enzo showed up with a cheap plastic hairclip and that fake sunshine smile.

"Be good, Selene. Give Willa the pendant and she'll trade you this 'crystal' clip. You two need to get along. You're older—let her have it, okay?"

A busted hairclip... for my heirloom pendant.

He was five years older and still pulled that con with a straight face.

He said I was the one he valued most—because I "knew how to take responsibility." Said he admired girls with that quality.

It stung. I knew something was off, but still—his words made me feel seen.

Enzo always played the calm, mature type.

He clearly had a soft spot for Willa, but he masked it behind fake neutrality. Always telling me not to "hold grudges." Always nudging me to keep shielding her.

I let out a cold laugh. What a warped kind of love.

I stood and cracked the door, letting him watch the mess unfold in the living room with me.

***

The banging on the door kept getting louder.

A young couple and two middle-aged spouses were bracing it with all they had.

Miranda? Completely useless. She just sat there, snacking and doting on her pudgy grandson like they weren't seconds from death.

"Oh, my sweet baby. You must've been terrified. Here, have some milk to calm down."

Perry took one sip—and spit it everywhere.

Chapter 7

"I'm not drinking that! It's gross! I want a cheese stick!"

Miranda took one look at the milk and launched into full drama mode. "No wonder my baby won't drink it. This brand's basically water! And full of preservatives! Why didn't you get real milk..."

Her whining earned her a round of death stares from the folks still holding the door shut.

The middle-aged guy winced watching Perry spit it out. "Don't waste it!"

"Hehe, I'm spitting it out, so what!" Perry got even more hyped with the attention. He chugged the milk, slurped, spat—full-on toddler fountain mode—flashing smug looks at the exhausted door crew.

The young couple—Timothy and Jenny—were about to snap. They'd been grinding at the door nonstop, running on fumes, just to end up as the punchline of this brat's show.

"Willa, we've been busting our asses and haven't had a single bite," Jenny snapped, eyes locked on Perry. "You really think that's fair?"

Willa looked cornered. No one had comforted her earlier when she'd cried, and that damn old woman had even used the chaos to swipe her stuff.

"Be nice to the elderly and kids, okay? Young people these days are so petty," Miranda scoffed, rolling her eyes.

Willa, clearly over it, didn't even bother arguing. Just tossed out her usual line. "Don't be mad at the kid. Childhood only happens once—we should protect it."

Same tired line. But this time, I wasn't the one coughing up blood from rage.

Jenny's face darkened. "Willa, your sister was right. You made this mess—why are we the ones paying for it?"

She marched over and yanked Willa toward the door.

Willa shrieked. Full-on terror.

No way she'd survive if that door gave out. It was already splintering. The second it broke, she was zombie chow.

The yelling inside only riled them up more. The door groaned under pressure, and the three adults holding it started sweating bullets.

"Shut up!" Jenny slapped a hand over Willa's mouth.

I watched, kind of entertained, as their terrified faces contorted with fear.

In my last life, my "stinginess" made Willa look like some generous saint. Everyone called her sweet, angelic, pure.

Now? That illusion was cracking fast.

Of course it was. She never went on supply runs. Only tagged along because she couldn't stand dirty bathrooms. I was the one lugging everything back so she could stay all clean and composed.

That whole "cool, graceful" act? Built on my back, on my bruises.

The moment I stopped playing the mule, what was left for anyone to admire?

The room went dead quiet—then Jenny gasped.

Willa had bitten her hand.

Jenny, livid, slapped her straight across the face.

Willa's mouth twisted into a weird duckbill. She couldn't even fix her expression.

Her lips shook. Tears brimmed. She looked pathetic—and of course, that made Enzo twitch with sympathy. He kept trying to stand.

I pushed him back down, smiling. "Relax. She'll crawl over soon enough."