The next day, she did something rare—she woke up early. Her alarm rang right on time at 8:00 a.m.
Still groggy and with sleep lingering in her eyes, she sat up as soon as she turned off the alarm. Normally, she was someone who loved to sleep in, but today was different.
Sitting at the edge of her bed, she rubbed her eyes and stretched, letting out a long yawn. Then she stood up and made her way to the bathroom.
While brushing her teeth, her mind was already running through the day's schedule. She double-checked the timing in her head to make sure everything was doable, then returned to her room to change out of her pajamas.
A brand new day was beginning.
She decided to make use of the fresh morning air by heading to the garden and practicing the self-defense techniques Marc had taught her the day before. She wanted to reinforce what she had learned before meeting him again for more training in the afternoon.
But before that, she needed to eat something nutritious. Her willpower was strong, yes—but her body had a tendency toward low blood sugar, and skipping breakfast was definitely not an option.
She went downstairs to the dining area and greeted the cook warmly.
"Good morning, Miss Doleia. You're up early today!" the cook beamed. "What would you like for breakfast? I'll make something fresh for you right away."
The smile on the cook's face was always the same—radiant and genuine, like she was looking at her own daughter. It was no secret that she already thought of Doleia as family.
"I'd like something nutritious today," Doleia replied. "Anything you think is good—I'll leave it to you."
As always, the cook waved her to a seat and headed into the kitchen to start preparing.
While Doleia waited, she didn't just sit idle.
She pulled out her phone and started looking up the biggest furniture store nearby. After all, the shelter would need some furnishing—or she'd end up staring at bare walls once she moved in.
Her family's century-old residence was technically still in the city center, which was convenient. Just seven kilometers away from the house, she found a massive furniture showroom right next to a shopping mall. She browsed through the product photos online—everything looked high-end and tasteful. She made a mental note to visit the place later.
In addition to furniture, she wanted to install a custom AI assistant system in the shelter, complete with surveillance cameras, intercoms, automatic disinfectant sprayers, and other smart equipment.
Still, something felt like it was missing.
A vehicle—
She needed one—but not just any vehicle. Standard cars probably wouldn't survive a zombie attack.
So what now?
She seriously considered getting a tank or modifying a vehicle for combat use before the delicious aroma of breakfast pulled her thoughts back to reality.
A hearty meal was placed in front of her: whole grain toast stuffed with eggs, veggies, and what looked like tuna. Next to the sandwich sat a small bowl of cherry tomatoes and avocado. In the upper left corner of the tray, a mug of warm milk was waiting.
The cook must've gone all out, afraid her little lady wouldn't eat enough.
As the scent of the meal wafted up to her nose, Doleia smiled, thanked the housekeeper, and finally put her phone away to enjoy her breakfast.
-----
Out in the garden, she spotted her grandfather jogging slowly and ran over to greet him.
"Good morning, Grandpa!" she called out cheerfully.
Surprised, he turned to look at her. "Well, well, little Doleia—what's gotten into you lately, waking up this early?"
Doleia thought for a second and replied, "I've been trying to build healthier habits. Thought I'd start with waking up earlier."
Her grandfather smiled gently, clearly pleased, and patted her head with affection.
That's when the thought of needing a vehicle crept back into her mind. In her past life, Grandpa had given her a car for her birthday. Could she somehow get her hands on one of those apocalypse-ready rides again, using his connections?
But… he'd already done so much for her. Buying the land, giving her 30 billion. Asking for more felt shameless. She knew that even if she merely hinted at wanting something, he'd likely find a way to give it to her.
With that thought, the words that almost spilled from her mouth were swallowed back down.
Maybe her expression gave her away, because Grandpa suddenly asked, "What's wrong? You look like there's something on your mind."
Doleia quickly shook her head. No way she could bring herself to say it.
"It's nothing, Grandpa. Don't worry. I'll let you finish your jog—I'm heading to the gazebo for some training."
She clenched her fist and gave a little "fighting!" gesture to her grandfather before limping off toward the gazebo.
There, she replayed Marc's self-defense lessons in her mind and practiced until around 11 a.m.
-----
After a shared lunch with her family, she headed over to Uncle Marc's place at 1:00 sharp.
The big black dog outside Marc's house barked at her just like the day before, only calming down once Marc opened the door.
As soon as she entered, Marc asked her to demonstrate everything he'd taught her. Once satisfied, he began teaching her new techniques.
Five hours passed. Aside from quick bathroom breaks and sips of water, Doleia never took a proper rest.
Marc was impressed. This girl clearly had determination. He hadn't expected Robert's granddaughter to be this driven and meticulous. She wasn't just naturally talented—she worked hard, too. The moment she entered and demonstrated what she'd learned yesterday, he could tell she had been practicing on her own.
"You did well. That's enough for today," he finally said.
But Doleia didn't want to stop. She lingered, clearly wanting to continue.
Marc sighed, knowing full well he'd be in trouble with Robert if he trained her like a soldier and wore her out.
"Alright, alright. How about this," he said, softening his tone. "Take the next two days to rest and practice on your own. Come back on Friday. I promise—once I see you're ready, I'll give you a gun for self-defense as a gift from me."
A real gun. Doleia's heart skipped a beat. She suppressed the excitement bubbling up inside her and put on a pouty face, pretending to be disappointed as she waved goodbye.
-----
Once she got in the car, she pulled out a towel and her phone, wiping sweat off her face while checking her notifications.
"You have 5 new messages from James."
She tapped them open.
"Good afternoon, Miss Doleia. Our design team reviewed your plans and saw a few areas for improvement."
"[Photo]"
"Here's the latest draft from our designer. Take a look."
"This version will cost approximately $3 billion in total. Given the high-level defense requirements, materials like reinforced steel and concrete will be used more extensively."
"If you need changes, let me know. If you're happy with it, we can begin the construction tomorrow."
Doleia's eyes lingered on that last sentence, a quiet admiration in her expression.
In just one day, they'd revised the design to be more efficient while fully respecting her original needs. The layout was even better now. She was very pleased.
" love this new version—it's exactly what I wanted. I'll send over a 30% deposit first. Once construction's complete and I've reviewed the results, I'll pay the rest.
As for your team's meals, you can track the cost and send me a report every Sunday. I'll reimburse accordingly. Sounds good?"
A moment later, her message was marked as read.
"No problem. We'll start work tomorrow and send you regular photo updates."
She replied with a quick thank you and turned off her phone.
-----
That evening, she planned to check out the furniture store.
The place was like a living museum—tall ceilings, immersive decor, and dozens of staged spaces. Minimalist white sofas sat beneath vintage brass chandeliers. A long wooden dining table was paired with a velvet chaise lounge. Every corner looked like a photo straight from a lifestyle magazine. The scent of cedarwood lingered in the air, and the glass on the display cabinets was polished to perfection.
As she approached the entrance, a tall, poised woman in her mid-thirties stepped forward to greet her.
"Good evening, miss. I'll be assisting you today. My name is Cecelia. What can I help you with?"
Doleia paused, then said honestly, "I think I need just about everything."
Cecelia smiled warmly and began introducing the most popular pieces in the showroom—sofas, lighting, tables, chairs—going through everything with patience and professionalism.
By the time Doleia was done browsing, the store was nearly closing. But she, ever decisive, waved her hand and swiped her card with a flourish.
As she received the receipt, Cecelia couldn't help the smile spreading across her face.
"Miss, where would you like these items delivered?"
Doleia handed her a note with an address—the house she had just rented during dinner. It was a large property with four floors. The previous owner had lost it due to gambling debts and couldn't afford the utility bills anymore.
Though he initially wanted to sell it, he was more than happy to rent it out when she offered above-market rates.
Doleia wasn't stupid. Buying it would be too costly—and with the apocalypse looming, six months of rent was more than enough. The money could be better used elsewhere.
That night alone, she had spent nearly $200 million in that furniture store.
Although that number seemed a little shocking at first glance, Doleia didn't feel like she was being wasteful. She knew exactly what she needed, and she wanted to do things once and do them right.
To others, it might just look like she was setting up a temporary place to stay—but in her mind, this house was her frontline prep zone, her mini command center before the real end began.
Every piece of furniture, every fixture, even every throw pillow, was a small investment toward survival and sanity.
After finalizing the delivery details with the store assistant, she stepped outside, the air now cooler under the dusky sky. The faint scent of snow pine still lingered on her clothes. As she got into the car, she looked at her reflection in the window. There were still traces of fatigue on her face from the afternoon's intense training, but her eyes held a different kind of light—calm, focused, determined.
The driver turned back to ask, "Miss, are we heading home now?"
She nodded gently. "Yeah. Let's go home."
-----
Back at the mansion, Doleia took out her notebook and started jotting things down—what still needed to be bought, where should she go first tomorrow, and what brands of surveillance cameras were the most durable and discreet.
Eventually, her stomach began to protest. She checked the time—it was almost 9:00 PM. She hadn't even had dinner. The cook was waiting at the kitchen as usual, heating her dinner up for her.
She smiled softly at that and whispered a quiet "thank you." She sat down at the kitchen island. Tonight's dinner was lighter—a warm stew with beef and root vegetables, a side of buttered peas, and a small slice of cranberry bread.
She ate slowly, savoring each bite. Not just because she was hungry, but because she knew these quiet, warm, ordinary moments would soon become a luxury.
After dinner, she walked to her room, brushed her teeth, washed up, and finally sank into bed. She grabbed her tablet from the nightstand and checked her messages again.
Marc had sent a thumbs-up emoji and a short voice message: "Rest well, kid. You're tougher than you think."
She chuckled softly, replaying the message twice before replying with: "Thank you, Uncle Marc. I'll be back stronger."
Then, she opened the updated blueprint file James had sent earlier once more and stared at it. Her fingers hovered over the screen, tracing the lines of her future—her fortress, her sanctuary.
With a heart full of anticipation and a body completely spent, she finally put the tablet aside. Drawing the blanket up to her chin, Doleia whispered into the darkness—
"We're getting there. One step at a time."
And with that, she closed her eyes, letting exhaustion lull her into a deep, dreamless sleep.