Common Sense Hijack System-Chapter 114 - Not funny, but little warm..

One Week Later

The snow continued to fall relentlessly, blanketing the world in an endless sheet of cold, white silence. The wind howled eerily through the cracks of the old building, while three small souls clung to survival amidst the oppressive quiet.

Karl stood in the middle of the room, his palm stretched out into the air. Above his hand, an illusory spiral vortex shimmered faintly, spinning slowly with fractured light like broken glass. From within the vortex, a can of food materialized and gently dropped into his hand.

Mrs. Jane, sitting on the worn-out sofa clutching a frayed blanket, watched the scene with wide eyes. Even after a week of witnessing the same thing, the sight still left her stunned.

"I... I still can’t fully believe this," she muttered softly.

Karl gave her a faint smile. "You’ll get used to it, Mrs. Jane. This is... one of the perks of the system I have. Something even I’m still struggling to fully understand."

Layla, wrapped tightly in a thick blanket on the floor, looked up at Karl with eyes full of trust. From the start, Layla had known about Karl’s abilities. To her, this strange display had already become part of their daily routine.

"Karl, do we still have enough supplies?" Layla asked, tilting her head slightly.

Karl closed the swirling vortex with a casual motion of his hand, and it disappeared into thin air. "I’ve stocked up plenty. I don’t know how long it’ll last, but I’m sure we still have enough food for now."

Mrs. Jane hugged her body tighter, her hollow gaze fixed on the faint fire flickering in the stove. Her eyes were puffy, dark circles beneath them serving as evidence of her sleepless nights.

Every night, Mrs. Jane had nightmares.

---

Mrs. Jane’s Nights

When darkness swallowed the room and only the faint light from the fire remained, Mrs. Jane would fall asleep trembling under her worn-out blanket. But her sleep was never peaceful. Every time she closed her eyes, shadows of her past came back to haunt her—sharp, vivid, and unbearably painful.

In her dreams, she always returned to that night. The night when rough laughter and heavy footsteps filled the hallways of her home. The thugs had entered easily, smashing the door open with a single powerful kick. Her husband, armed with nothing but an old baseball bat, tried to fight back. But they overpowered him—blow after blow—until he collapsed on the floor, his body drenched in blood.

Her child, still so small and innocent, was ripped from her arms. His screams still echoed in Mrs. Jane’s ears, even now. The thugs laughed, kicking and crushing the little body before tossing it into the corner like garbage.

And then—they turned to her.

Those twisted faces approached, sinister grins plastered across their lips, their eyes glinting with cruel intentions. But before the nightmare could get any worse, it always ended the same way: the lifeless, pale faces of her husband and child staring back at her.

Mrs. Jane would wake up gasping for breath, cold sweat soaking her forehead, and her hands clamped tightly over her mouth to muffle her screams.

Night after night, the nightmare returned.

Karl often found her sitting in the corner of the room, staring blankly at the wall, clutching her blanket so tightly her knuckles turned white. Layla had tried several times to comfort her, speaking softly and offering her small hands for support, but Mrs. Jane’s trauma ran too deep to be soothed by kind words alone.

One night, as the blizzard outside roared louder than usual, Karl finally approached Mrs. Jane. She was huddled in the corner, tears streaming down her pale face, her shoulders trembling uncontrollably.

"You don’t have to carry this alone, Mrs. Jane," Karl said softly.

Mrs. Jane lifted her face, her eyes red and swollen. "I... I can’t get rid of it, Karl. I see it every night. Their faces... the blood... my child’s screams... I can’t..."

Karl knelt in front of her, his hands resting gently yet firmly on her shoulders.

"No one can erase those memories, Mrs. Jane. But I promise... I’ll make sure something like that never happens to you or Layla again. I’ll protect you both."

Tears welled up in Mrs. Jane’s eyes again, and this time, she let herself break. Her head lowered as her shoulders shook with heavy sobs. She cried, allowing every burden she had been holding back to pour out in waves of raw emotion.

From a distance, Layla watched, clutching her blanket tightly. She wiped her own tears quietly, saying nothing as she allowed the moment to pass.

Amidst the sound of Mrs. Jane’s heartbreaking sobs and the howling storm outside, Karl felt something solidify deep within him—a resolve, clear and unwavering.

He had to protect them.

No matter what the future held, no matter how dangerous the road ahead became.

The storm outside showed no signs of stopping, and the world beyond their shelter remained cruel and chaotic. But within the fragile warmth of that flickering fire, three people—each carrying their own scars—held on, refusing to let go.

For now, surviving was all they could do.

***

The heavy atmosphere in the small room gradually lifted after Mrs. Jane’s sobs faded. The portable stove crackled softly, casting a flickering warm light on their tired faces. Layla sat on the floor, wrapped tightly in a thick blanket, while Mrs. Jane leaned back against the sofa, her eyes still damp but visibly calmer.

Karl sat cross-legged on the floor, looking at the two women in front of him. He felt the need to do something to lighten the lingering gloom in the air.

Taking a deep breath, Karl placed one hand dramatically on his chest, striking a pose as if he were an actor on stage.

"Who would’ve thought? Once upon a time, I was just a humble cashier who couldn’t even protest when a customer took more change than they were supposed to. And now look at me—a brave man rescuing two beautiful women in the middle of a snowpocalypse!"

Layla, who had just taken a sip from a small thermos, turned to him with a deadpan expression. "Seriously, Karl?"

Karl tilted his chin up arrogantly, staring at the ceiling as if he were receiving applause from an invisible audience.

"Yes! I, Karl the loser, have evolved into... a talented hero who can summon food from a magical vortex! If this were a game, I’d definitely have the title ’The Unlikely Savior’!"

Layla let out a long sigh, stood up slightly from her seated position, and gently patted Karl on the head with her open palm.

Smack.

"That’s not funny, Karl," Layla said flatly, though the corners of her lips twitched upward slightly.

Karl blinked dramatically, pretending to be shocked. "Hey! That hurt, you know!"

Layla snorted softly, then sank back into her spot on the floor, pulling the blanket tighter around her. Karl clutched his head with exaggerated pain, his expression overly theatrical, like a second-rate actor.

On the other side of the room, Mrs. Jane, who had been quietly observing, finally let out a soft laugh. It was faint, almost like a whisper, but enough to make both Karl and Layla turn to her.

"Karl... you’re really something else," Mrs. Jane said while wiping the corner of her eye. "But I guess... the world needs someone like you. Someone who can make things feel a little lighter, even in the middle of a storm."

Karl grinned widely, clearly proud of his modest achievement. He thumped his chest lightly with an open palm.

"That’s because I, Mrs. Jane, am an all-purpose hero. I can fight, I can store food in a magic vortex, and... I can defuse awkward tension in the middle of an apocalypse!"

Layla rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, we get it, Hero Karl."

Mrs. Jane chuckled again, and this time, her laughter sounded more genuine. Her tired face seemed a little brighter under the dim firelight.

That small moment felt warm among the three people trying to survive in a frozen world. For a brief time, they could forget their fear, exhaustion, and the trauma that haunted them every night.

Karl smiled contentedly, his gaze soft as he looked at the two women. In his heart, he swore he would continue to protect them—with everything he had.

Outside, the snowstorm still roared viciously. But inside that tiny room, the faint sound of their laughter became a small spark of hope in an endless sea of darkness.