After paying the deposit, Nicole drove straight to the largest outdoor gear store downtown.

The outdoor gear market was fiercely competitive. The store was in full clearance mode, shutting down with brutal discounts. Some items were marked down to 20% of the original price.

Perfect timing.

Nicole grabbed two rigid-hull assault boats and four inflatable rafts, emergency kits for earthquakes and fires, tents, a fire axe, climbing rope, binoculars, radios, waterproof flashlights, and oversized solar chargers.

Anything meant to keep her alive had to be top quality. No compromises.

Seeing a big spender, the staff got enthusiastic, pushing jackets and sleeping bags. "Everything's on sale today. Quality guaranteed."

Nicole looked unimpressed. "Got anything that works at minus 90 degrees?"

The clerk gasped, "Minus 90? It's summer all year long here. What good is that to anyone?"

"I'm heading to Northreach for research," she replied.

She didn't look like she was joking.

The clerk quickly called around, then lowered his voice. "We can get polar-grade cold-weather suits and mummy sleeping bags. Layered together, they'll hold. Price is high, and the stock's out of state."

The supplier ran an online shop. The reviews looked solid. Overnight express delivery could get them there by tomorrow afternoon.

Nicole ordered two sets of each and paid about 1,200 dollars.

She spent another 2,400 at the outdoor store. The truck was packed full. When no one was looking, she slipped everything into her storage space.

The boats needed gasoline, but gasoline wasn’t sold to private buyers in bulk.

She bought siphon pumps and fuel drums from an auto shop, filled her truck at several gas stations, and then drove to a spot without cameras. Using the siphon, she transferred fuel into the drums.

After several trips, she had around 130 gallons of gasoline.

The apocalypse was chaos. Violence was everywhere.

She stopped by a security supply store. "I'm going to Downrange."

The owner's expression changed instantly. He pulled out his best stock. "You must have the best equipment."

Nicole bought three sets of slash-resistant, stab-resistant armor and two bulletproof vests.

With no time to waste, she drove straight to the largest clothing wholesale market on the outskirts.

Down jackets, military-style coats, cashmere sweaters, thermal layers, scarves, gloves, socks, snow boots with grip, lightweight sneakers, insulated shoes, and slippers. Nicole got anything she could think of, anything she might possibly need.

She didn't care about the brand. Just quality.

She dropped another 2,400 dollars on clothes, then crossed over to the neighboring household goods wholesale center.

There, she got comforters and down blankets. For thick cotton quilts, she bought three each in 8-pound and 10-pound weights, all vacuum-sealed.

She also bought shampoo, body wash, laundry detergent, sanitary pads, tampons, toilet paper, toothpaste, toothbrushes, insulated thermos bottles, lighters, and rubber hot water bottles

She bought 20 thousand disposable heat packs. Those things saved lives in the deep freeze.

One vendor sold rare items online, such as glass kerosene lamps and storm lanterns, waterproof and windproof. They were old-school designs from decades ago. She bought five of each.

"Do you have kerosene?"

They did, but it barely sold. The shop had only about 26 gallons in stock.

Nicole bought every drop and asked for extra lamp wicks. Those were way more durable than candles.

Then she purchased alcohol stoves, solid fuel blocks, and portable gas burners. Remembering that her storage space had power, she added a few induction cooktops.

She also got bug spray, disinfectant, water purification tablets, and insect repellent. Anything she could think of.

The total damage came to about 4,000 dollars.

Next door was the produce wholesale market. She bought apples, oranges, bananas, grapes, strawberries, blueberries, melons, peaches, and more; around twenty kinds of fruit. Another 1,200 was gone.

When Nicole left the market, it was already dark.

Several missed calls lit up her phone. They were all from Jeremy. His message said the shipment was ready.

Nicole drove to his company's building. More than 20 large boxes waited for her. Inside were antibiotics, anti-inflammatory meds, iodine solution, medical alcohol, gauze, and even tetanus vaccines.

These were all lifesaving supplies in a disaster scenario.

It had cost her a fortune, but the knot in her chest finally loosened.

Jeremy transferred her a 400-dollar cut of his commission as a thank-you for the massive order.

He flashed his phone at her with a grin. "Here’s your cut. Check your phone. I gotta say, that list of yours was wild. A lot of stuff wasn't even available, so I had to pull some major favors—but I got it all sorted."

"I'll deliver this first," Nicole said from the driver's seat. "I'll treat you to a big meal in a few days. A super typhoon's coming. Remember to stock up on food and fuel."

Jeremy didn't take it seriously. They'd had over a dozen typhoons this year already. Every time, it was the same story: lots of warnings, but hardly any damage.

Nicole stored the medicine, then drove to the food street near Westbridge University. She ordered burgers, loaded fries, and a couple of beers.

The street was packed with students and couples, all wearing smiles and full of life. No one had any idea what was about to hit.

The burgers took time. Nicole stared at the grill.

Then, it hit her.

Damn it. She almost forgot the most important thing.

She immediately asked the vendor for contacts selling charcoal, coal briquettes, and propane tanks.

She called them one by one, asking for next-day delivery.

But luck wasn't on her side. All the shops were in low-lying areas. Authorities had ordered them to move the inventory, so no one had time.

Three of them were clustered in the same zone. Nicole didn't even wait for her food. She drove straight there.

Charcoal was cheap but bulky. She checked her storage space and ordered 500 pounds of smokeless high-heat charcoal, plus a charcoal grill and fire starters.

One propane tank lasted about two months. In case the power cut out, she bought ten.

Coal briquettes burned forever, but with nationwide power shortages and trade sanctions against Travinia, prices had gone insane.

Nicole bit the bullet and bought 2,000.

It was nearly nine when she got back to the apartment. She took a short break, then entered her storage space to organize the chaos.

To save room, she stacked the propane tanks, briquettes, and charcoal tightly in the kitchen area. She stripped unnecessary packaging, vacuum-sealed anything fluffy, and stacked everything layer by layer up to the ceiling.

Money really did vanish fast. By the end of the day, Nicole had spent a staggering amount. The small bedroom and kitchen were filled, taking up roughly 1,800 cubic feet.

She had just finished when something slammed into her.

Nicole flew backward and tumbled out of the storage space.

She sat there, stunned.

"Huh…?"

She tried to enter again, but an invisible barrier blocked her.

What the hell?

The storage space had swallowed her supplies and kicked her out!

Nicole jolted, then immediately checked with her mind.

The storage space was still there. The supplies were still there, too. She tested it; she thought of an item, and a coal briquette appeared in her hand.

Sweeping the space again, she noticed the glowing timer had reset to zero.

That was when it clicked. The storage space only allowed two hours inside at a time.

Two hours…

Fine. Better than nothing.

After showering, it was already past midnight.

Nicole checked again. A fresh two-hour window had replenished. Only then did she finally breathe a little easier.

She lay in bed, but couldn't fall asleep. In the end, she took some melatonin.

Her sleep was shallow and broken. She dreamed of being chased again, rust-stained blades swinging down toward her body.

Nicole woke up drenched in sweat. It was five in the morning, and the sky outside was still dark.

She went into the storage space and looked over her supplies just to steady herself. Only then did her heart slow down.

She didn't go back to sleep.

Grabbing her car keys, she headed to the largest agricultural wholesale market in town. Dawn was barely breaking, yet traffic around the market was already packed.

Nicole went straight to the produce section and bought fresh items still beaded with dew.

She bought 100 pounds each of onions, carrots, squash, tomatoes, bell peppers, celery, and cucumbers, as well as 200 pounds each of potatoes and sweet potatoes.

She also bought 100 pounds of ginger and garlic, respectively. They could be planted and used for seasoning. During the deep freeze, a cup of hot ginger tea could keep someone alive.

She bought steadily as she walked. Aside from leafy greens, she skipped nothing.

By the time she grabbed breakfast, it was close to 9 a.m. The crowd had thinned.

Nicole started stocking staple foods, comparing prices stall by stall.

She got 100 50-pound bags of rice, 50 50-pound bags of flour, as well as 500 pounds each of various noodles and starch. Then she bought 200 pounds each of various dried beans, including lentils, chickpeas, and peanuts, as well as 50 large containers each of different kinds of vegetable oils.

She spent under 6,000 dollars and talked the vendor into tossing in three extra bags of rice.

Just this alone could feed her for 30 years.

While the vendor packed the order, Nicole headed to the seasoning section.

She got ten 5-gallon barrels of condiments, such as soy sauce and vinegar. She also purchased 30 pounds each of spices, including black pepper, bay leaves, cinnamon sticks, and cloves.

Then she got 300 pounds of brown sugar, white sugar, and rock sugar, as well as 3,000 pounds of salt.

Food mattered in the apocalypse, but salt mattered more. Without it, the body collapsed.

In her third year of surviving, Nicole had seen someone trade one bag of salt for 60 pounds of grain.

Three thousand pounds of salt barely took up space. When resources ran dry, it would be priceless. If she'd had room, she would've stocked tons.

Once the truck was loaded, Nicole drove to a quiet corner with no cameras and transferred everything into the storage space, then headed for the frozen foods section.

She got ten large boxes each of various frozen breads, sweet pastries, and savory breakfast buns. She avoided premade fillings and stocked up on frozen tortillas, something to keep her busy when floods kept her indoors.

Next came dried goods, such as dried mushrooms, sun-dried tomatoes, dried herbs, and dehydrated vegetables. Another 2,000 was gone.

At the meat section, Nicole found the stall that supplied the university cafeteria.

The owner lit up when he saw her. "Nicole, what are you looking for today?"

The air before the typhoon was thick and stifling. There wasn't much meat left, and the freshness was average, but the prices were fair.

Nicole ordered various cuts of pork, lamb, and beef, 200 pounds each. She also got 100 each of chickens and ducks, 50 turkeys, and assorted organ meats in bulk.

The owner stared at her. "Are you serious?"

His wife worked at the slaughterhouse. Nicole had sent plenty of customers his way before.

"It's for a family wedding," she said calmly. "Just keep the price low."

"Between us? I'm giving it to you at cost." He laughed. "I'll give you 30% off."

Meat burned money fast. Pork prices had dropped recently, but beef and lamb hadn't. Buying from someone she knew saved a fortune.

The total came to around 6,000 dollars.

Nicole didn't haggle; she just added one request.

She asked for two heavy cleavers and a butcher knife. Weapons mattered, but she had no time or channels. This would have to do.

The owner looked uneasy. "What do you need those for?"

"Relax. I'm not killing anyone."

With both profit and the relationship in mind, he agreed.

Nicole moved on to the fish stall and ordered 100 whole fish, cleaned but not cut. She then picked up 3,000 chicken eggs and 1,000 duck eggs.

Thinking the disasters might end someday, she also bought fertilized eggs, including chicken, duck, turkey, and quail, plus a small home incubator.

Remembering the garden in her storage space, Nicole stopped by a seed shop.

She bought seeds for fast-growing vegetables such as lettuce, spinach, kale, and mustard greens.

Seeds were cheap. About 100 dollars bought enough for decades.

There were only about 100 square feet of black soil, but she had two balconies. Her farming instincts kicked in. She bought planters, soil, shovels, hoes, and potting mix.

With cautious hope, she went to the nursery section.

She picked up three mature plants each from a dozen fruit varieties, including apple and citrus trees, grapevines, and berry plants like blueberries and strawberries.

Fresh meat wouldn't last forever. As disasters dragged on, even powerful groups wouldn't have access to it.

Nicole bought a breeding pair of rabbits. They survived on vegetables and reproduced fast. She would have plenty of meat for a long time.

She favored foods that could be eaten cold or lightly dressed. She bought hundreds of pounds of beef shank, beef brisket, and smoked meat.

Money drained fast. It hurt.

But seeing the supplies stack higher and higher inside the storage space gave her a quiet sense of security.

She spent the entire day in the wholesale market.

When she finally stepped out, the streets were blazing with lights. Crowds flowed. The city's best hours were just beginning.

Nicole walked into a restaurant and ordered barbecue ribs, meatloaf with gravy, and mashed potatoes. She ate until she was full and boxed the rest.

It was still early when she got home. She hauled everything into the storage space, filling the large room completely.

Vegetables and fruit trees went into the living room. The rabbits stayed on the balcony.

Nicole was careful. When the timer dropped to ten minutes, she stepped out.

The moment she exited, the two rabbits were kicked out as well, thudding onto the floor. They almost didn't make it.

Nicole stared.

She first felt frustration, then wild joy.

The storage space had limits. And as long as she wasn't inside, no living creature could stay either.

Which meant no one could steal it.

In a great mood, she sat down to check for anything she had left out. She bought everything she could still think of. Her balance dropped to about 4,000 dollars.

In the storage space, only the living room and bathroom remained empty. To survive extreme disasters, there was still more to prepare, but she wouldn't stock bulky items anymore.

Nicole opened a delivery app and ordered from all the top-rated places she had always wanted to try but never dared.

She ordered burgers, fried chicken, mac and cheese, pizza, pasta, and a dozen other dishes, ten portions each. She also got several varieties of baked goods, breakfast items, sandwiches, fried sides, and drinks.

She spent over 2,000 dollars, choosing scheduled pickup to keep everything fresh.

Though exhausted, Nicole wanted to see the city one last time while it was still alive.

That afternoon, a notice came out. To prepare for the incoming typhoon, schools would close for three days. Reopening would be announced later.

Students exploded with excitement. Friends called friends. Nightlife plans filled the air.

The coast saw typhoons every year. People always hoped for classes to be canceled. This time, their wish came true.

Nicole felt the same.

But the others didn't know this one was real. They would never need to go back to class again.

Nicole ate barbecue and drank beer, her emotions tangled as she kept running pickups.

Back home, she had the nagging feeling she had forgotten something important. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't remember what it was.

Just after midnight, the timer refreshed. One hundred thirty minutes remaining.

That meant time could stack.

Nicole nearly laughed out loud. Seconds mattered. During crucial moments, even a minute could mean the difference between living and dying.

She decided that unless it was absolutely necessary, she wouldn't enter the storage space again. She would save the time during the deep freeze or earthquakes.

With food secured and the storage space as a safety net, she finally felt a little steadier about the disasters ahead.

She slept through the night without dreams.

The next morning, a phone call dragged her awake. The stainless steel door installers had arrived.

"Are you putting stainless steel doors in here?" one of them asked, surprised.

"Yeah. There have been break-ins lately. I want something solid."

The worker laughed helplessly. "Those top-and-bottom locking bolts are secure, but we'll have to drill into the ceiling and floor. Aren't you worried about damage?"

"That's fine. Safety comes first."

Her landlord had moved away for work. By the time the apartment collapsed in the earthquake later on, she never heard from the landlord anyway. Renovations weren't a concern.

The blast-resistant glass installers arrived right after. Both crews worked nonstop, drills whining through the morning.

Since it was the weekend, and Nicole didn't want to annoy the neighbors, she sent a quick message in the building chat and tossed in a small cash gift.

She opened a food delivery app and kept ordering, spending whatever was left.

In under two hours, the doors and windows were finished. After paying the remaining balance, Nicole stared at the fortress-like apartment and finally relaxed.

Her phone rang. She assumed it was a delivery driver.

Instead, it was Edward.

"It's my birthday party today. When are you coming?"

His voice sounded warm and bright, layered with laughter and chatter in the background.

Nicole sneered, "Sure. Just wait."

She knew Edward had feelings for Mary. He just kept her dangling for surprise gifts and the pendant she wore.

Even through the phone, she could hear Mary's soft, sweet voice nearby.

In Nicole's last life, she threw herself at him, and he barely acknowledged her. Now, he was suddenly reaching out.

Alarm bells rang in her head.

How had Mary known about the pendant's storage space? Judging by Edward's attitude, he probably didn't know the secret. The call was likely Mary's idea.

Nicole grabbed her keys and went downstairs.

Edward lived on the eighth floor. Laughter spilled from his apartment.

Nicole walked right past without a glance and exited the building.

The air was still heavy, but the typhoon's advance winds had arrived. Whistling gusts cut through the streets.

A new alert popped up. The typhoon was expected to arrive at 9 p.m.

Nicole froze.

It had moved up.

She headed to the university library and gathered medical textbooks, disaster response manuals, martial arts guides, and books on mental conditioning.

During the floods, this entire library would vanish underwater. Countless books would be lost forever.

The thought made her chest ache, but there was nothing she could do.

She avoided cameras, stacked the books with others, and quietly slid them into her storage space. Stealing books wasn't right, but the library would be destroyed soon anyway. These books were part of human civilization.

Nicole couldn't save everything. If the disasters ever ended, she would donate what she took.

Edward called again. Nicole blocked his number without hesitation.

After leaving campus, she went to a large supermarket. She rode the elevator up to the rooftop parking lot, walked around carefully, then came back down.

Faced with shelves packed full of goods, she didn't buy a single thing. She wandered the second floor several times, then drove off.

The rental company called. The typhoon had arrived early, and they were closing. The vehicle needed to be returned by 3 p.m.

Nicole agreed verbally, but returned it at 4 p.m.

The wind was already howling, tearing through the streets.

The owner was decent. After inspection, he refunded her 400-dollar deposit.

Disasters didn't strike all at once. They always gave a buffer. Humans just never noticed.

Nicole kept the cash on hand and stopped spending.

Back at the apartment, she grabbed her laptop, tablet, and phone and started downloading materials nonstop: medical references, survival guides, movies, music, life skills, cooking recipes, offline maps, and emergency response manuals.

A shipping notification popped up.

Nicole's heart skipped.

The polar cold-weather suits! She had completely forgotten.

They were supposed to arrive yesterday evening, but the seller shipped late, and delays piled up. The packages had just reached the courier station.

She called immediately.

The station said the typhoon had already hit, and deliveries were suspended. If she really needed it, she could come pick it up before 6 p.m.

Outside, the wind screamed. Trees in the complex thrashed wildly.

Once the rain came, the courier station would flood. And without polar gear, surviving temperatures of -90°F would be impossible.

No ride-hailing drivers were taking orders. Nicole had no choice. She ran downstairs, scanned a shared bike, and pedaled hard toward the station.

The station was two miles away. Nicole could barely keep her eyes open. Trash and cardboard flew through the air like shrapnel.

By the time she arrived, she was soaked in sweat, hair plastered to her face.

Typhoon delays had jammed the station. Packages were stacked everywhere.

Nicole didn't stop to catch her breath. She rolled up her sleeves and dug through the piles. Thankfully, the boxes were huge. After more than ten minutes, she finally found them.

Outside, the wind had grown even stronger. The sky was so dark that it looked like night.

Nicole gritted her teeth and hugged the massive package as she stepped out. The moment she cleared the doorway, a sudden gust slammed into her. Her feet left the ground.

At the last second, a man loading boxes into a vehicle reached out and grabbed her arm. His stance was solid. He hauled the soaked, shaken Nicole back to safety.

She tried to thank him, but her voice vanished into the wind.

He glanced at her. "Typhoon's here. Carrying that like this isn't safe."

Caught off guard by how fast the storm escalated, Nicole had no choice but to retreat inside. She refreshed the ride app nonstop, even adding extra tips.

Three hundred people were ahead of her in the queue. Not a single driver accepted.

The man finished loading packages, stuffing them into a Hummer until it was packed. Seeing her anxious expression, he hesitated.

"Where do you live?"

Under the lights, Nicole finally saw his face.

He wore a black T-shirt and jeans. He looked to be in his early twenties, with short, clean-cut hair, a sharp jawline, and hard, sculpted features.

He was tall, at least six feet, with long legs that caught the eye right away.

She thanked him again.

He looked indifferent. "No big deal."

"I live at Crownview Residences," Nicole said. "Could you give me a lift? I can pay."

He nodded and opened the door.

The back seat was full.

Opening the front door, Nicole saw a little girl in the passenger seat. She looked four or five years old, with a pale, timid face and big dark eyes that watched Nicole in silence. She wore a pink dress.

"Poppy, let her hold you," the man said calmly.

With the apocalypse starting, who cared about traffic cameras anymore?

Nicole lifted Poppy onto her lap and wedged the package under her feet.

The wind howled, but the Hummer moved steadily forward.

The sky pressed low and heavy. Broken branches spun through the air. Sheet metal clattered violently.

Down the street, a woman in a summer dress clung to a utility pole, mouth wide open, screaming for help.

The natural disasters had officially begun.