Outside his window, the crying never stopped.
People kneeled on the ice-crusted balcony, banging their heads until blood flowed—each one more pitiful than the last.
Ethan Cross sighed, walked up to the glass, and said gently,
"Guys, come on, don't do this. You're making me feel bad."
Then he lifted his steaming bowl of noodles.
"And whenever I feel bad… I eat."
Sluuuurp—
He slurped down a mouthful, practically moaning with satisfaction.
The neighbors drooled, stomachs twisting, the smell of broth and sesame oil driving them insane.
Their wailing only grew louder.
"Ethan, we were wrong! We just… we just want to live!"
"Please, give us scraps! Let us survive like dogs—we don't care!"
"Whatever you want us to do, we'll do it! Just let us live!"
Ethan lowered his gaze and kept eating.
Hot, chewy noodles sliding down his throat—it was pure bliss. A kind of joy only the starving could truly understand.
Halfway through, he stood and placed the remaining bowl just behind the glass—in plain view.
They could see it.
They couldn't touch it.
One by one, people pressed their faces to the glass like desperate mutts at a bakery window. Steam fogged up the barrier. It only made things worse.
Ethan's voice cut through the whimpers:
"Don't say I never gave you a chance. Anyone who brings me Tony Chen's head… this noodle soup's yours. One week. All you can eat."
Of course Ethan didn't feel sorry for them. But with them hammering away at his walls and windows every damn day, it was getting annoying.
Better let the dogs turn on each other.
That was way more fun.
He posted the same message to the main building group chat—making sure everyone saw it.
On the balcony, people froze.
Tony Chen had a gun. Going after him might get your own head blown off.
But then again…
Had any of them succeeded against Ethan?
Three dozen corpses said otherwise.
Tony Chen, watching from a nearby balcony, didn't hear what was said, but he could sense it.
He furrowed his brows. Something felt off.
His people—two of them—were already dead. If he wanted to keep control of the building, he'd need new muscle.
Then suddenly, he felt a chill.
As if a thousand needles pricked his back.
He turned around—gun raised—only to find everyone looking at him with strange eyes.
"...What the hell do you think you're doing?"
People instinctively stepped back at the sight of his gun.
"I said back the fuck off!" Tony barked.
But that look… it wasn't fear.
It wasn't anger.
It was… hunger.
Like they weren't looking at a man.
They were looking at a piece of meat.
Tony's scalp went numb. He grabbed his remaining guys and left immediately.
"Wait! What about Ethan's place?" someone called.
Tony spat, "Can't get in! You think I'm gonna sit here and freeze to death? Figure it out yourselves!"
He stormed off, cursing all the way.
Back at Ethan's place, the beggars and window-smashers had long given up. Frostbite and fatigue drove them back to their dens.
Ethan lay in the warmth of his fortress, watching the collapse unfold.
After today's siege, over forty people were dead.
And the rest?
Exhausted. Weak. Hungry.
They had no strength left for a second assault.
Now, the real chaos would begin.
Sure enough, the private messages came flooding in.
People had finally broken.
The mob had failed. Ethan's steel fortress had crushed their hope.
Now, they begged.
Offered trades.
Desperate deals.
One came from Xu Hao, a spoiled rich kid.
"Ethan, I'll give you my girlfriend. Just give me some food."
"She's a car show model—top tier, dude. Gorgeous face, banging body. I swear you'll love her."
Ethan remembered her.
Xu Hao had bought the unit next door just to keep her around. The girl always dressed provocatively, like a walking perfume ad.
She never even looked at other men.
When Ethan passed her in the elevator, she barely acknowledged him.
Now?
The guy was selling her for some leftovers.
And her?
She looked very willing.
Even seemed eager to impress during the video Xu Hao sent.
"What a cheap bitch," Ethan sneered.
Sure, she was hot.
Great rack. Long legs. Perfect pout.
But a woman who could sell herself for a sandwich?
That's not someone you let inside your home.
That's someone who'd slit your throat in your sleep.
Ethan watched the video five times, laughed coldly, and closed the chat.
He scrolled through more messages.
Most of the men said nothing—they had nothing to offer.
Only one stood out: Mr. Yu, the old security guard.
"Nice job, Ethan. You really taught them a lesson."
It made Ethan smile, if only a little.
The women, though?
They were flooding his inbox.
Claire Fang was the first.
"Ethan~ you're amazing! I knew you'd survive!"
"They locked me up here. They're horrible people. But don't worry—I'll find a way to reach you. Just wait for me, okay~?"
Ethan scoffed and closed the message.
Outside, darkness fell early.
5 p.m., and the sky had already gone black.
Temperatures dropped even further.
On TV, the few remaining stations still broadcasted cheerful lies.
"Thanks to our government's tireless efforts, the blizzard situation is improving nationwide."
"Remain indoors, avoid frostbite, and be kind to your neighbors. Together, we'll make it through this!"
Ethan laughed. Hard.
It was like watching stand-up comedy.
He did wonder, though—where were they even broadcasting from?
With a smile, he skimmed through more messages. More insults. More begging.
Some even cursed him—saying he'd live in eternal guilt for not helping.
Ethan replied to one:
"Congrats on the funeral meat. BBQ those corpses. Mix the ashes into your rice. Enjoy."
The curses only got worse.
Then suddenly—
Movement on the balcony.
Ethan raised an eyebrow and approached the window.
The snow made the world outside eerily bright.
And there, crouching low, were a few people dragging away the burned corpses.
He knocked on the glass.
They froze.
"Ethan! Don't get the wrong idea! We're not here to fight you!"
"We're just, uh… moving the bodies. That's all."
Their voices trembled. Their eyes darted.
Ethan smiled.
"Oh? Moving them? Are you relatives?"
"Why not toss them downstairs? Or are you building a graveyard in your living room?"
They stammered.
Struggled for a reply.
"You don't need them anyway. Just… just let us go."
Dragging the charred bodies like sacks of coal, they stumbled off.
Ethan waved goodbye through the glass.
"So it's come to this, huh? You've finally crossed that line."
His smile grew colder.
Because deep down, he knew exactly what they were about to do next.