Common Sense Hijack System-Chapter 133

The next morning came quietly, the stillness outside broken only by the soft crackling of the fire and the distant sound of snow creaking under its own weight. Inside the shelter, the warmth of their routine brought a sense of normalcy, even as the frostbitten world outside remained relentless.

Karl woke early, as he always did, his internal clock refusing to let him sleep in. He stretched, his back aching slightly from another night on their makeshift mattress. The soft breathing of Jane and Layla filled the room, a comforting reminder that they were safe—at least for now.

He glanced at the small table where they’d left the deck of cards from the night before. A faint smile tugged at his lips as he remembered Layla’s triumphant grin and Jane’s exaggerated protests of cheating. For a brief moment, they had all forgotten the harshness of their reality.

As the others began to stir, Karl quietly prepared breakfast. From their stash in the Uncommon Storage, he pulled out a few items—powdered milk, some dried fruit, and a small bag of oats. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep them going. He worked silently, careful not to disturb the fragile peace of the morning.

Jane was the first to join him, her hair tousled and her eyes still half-closed. "Morning," she mumbled, sinking into one of the chairs at the table.

"Morning," Karl replied, setting a steaming cup of tea in front of her. "How’d you sleep?"

"Like a rock," she said with a yawn. "That card game must’ve worn me out. Or maybe it was Layla’s endless gloating."

Layla, who had just emerged from her corner of the room, smirked as she tied her hair back. "Hey, I earned the right to gloat. You’re just mad because I finally beat you."

"Once," Jane shot back, though there was no real malice in her tone. "Don’t get used to it."

Karl chuckled, placing bowls of warm oatmeal on the table. "Eat up. We’ve got another quiet day ahead, and I’d rather not spend it refereeing you two."

The three of them ate in companionable silence, the clinking of spoons against bowls the only sound. The food was plain but filling, and the warmth of it spread through their bodies like a small blessing.

After breakfast, they fell into their usual routine. Jane inspected their weapons, sharpening her dagger and checking their makeshift traps. Layla ventured out into the nearby woods to check the snares she’d set the day before, her keen eyes scanning the snow-covered landscape for any sign of movement. Karl focused on their supplies, making a mental inventory of what they had and what they might need in the coming weeks.

Despite the tension in the apartment building and the looming threat of starvation among the other survivors, their small group remained calm. The Uncommon Storage was their secret weapon, a lifeline that allowed them to stay one step ahead. But Karl knew that their luck wouldn’t last forever. Sooner or later, they’d have to face the growing desperation of their neighbors.

By midday, Layla returned with a pair of rabbits, their soft fur already frozen from the cold. She handed them to Jane, who expertly skinned and cleaned them while Karl prepared a stew. The rich aroma filled the shelter, a stark contrast to the meager rations most of the building’s residents were surviving on.

As they sat down to eat, Karl glanced at the two women who had become his family in this desolate world. Jane, with her sharp wit and unshakable determination, and Layla, whose resourcefulness and optimism kept them grounded. Together, they had built something rare: a life worth fighting for.

The conversation over dinner was light, filled with jokes and stories from their pasts. For a moment, the frost-covered windows and the harsh reality beyond them seemed distant, like a nightmare they had all finally woken from.

But as the fire burned low and the shadows lengthened, Karl couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in the back of his mind. The peace they had found was fragile, and the world outside wouldn’t stay quiet forever.

That evening, the comforting aroma of freshly cooked rabbit stew filled their small shelter. The fire crackled softly in the corner, casting a warm, golden glow across the room. Outside, the icy wind howled, rattling the boarded-up windows, but inside, it was cozy and calm.

Karl stirred the pot one last time before ladling the steaming stew into three mismatched bowls. The rich scent of the herbs and tender meat mixed with the earthy undertone of root vegetables made the humble meal feel almost luxurious. He set the bowls on the table, where Jane and Layla were already waiting.

"This smells amazing," Jane said, leaning forward to inhale the aroma. "You’ve really outdone yourself, Karl."

Layla grinned, grabbing a spoon. "Yeah, if this keeps up, we’re going to start calling you ’Chef Karl.’"

Karl chuckled, sitting down and taking his own bowl. "Don’t get too used to it. We’re only as good as what we can find. But for tonight, let’s enjoy it."

They ate slowly, savoring each bite. The stew was hot and hearty, warming them from the inside out. Layla let out a satisfied sigh after her first spoonful. "I forgot how good real food could taste."

Jane nodded in agreement, her usual sharp demeanor softening as she relaxed. "It’s been a while since we had something like this. Honestly, it makes everything else feel... bearable."

Karl glanced at the two of them, a small smile forming on his face. These moments—simple, quiet, and shared—were what kept him going. Despite the chaos outside, despite the danger and the endless uncertainty, nights like this reminded him why they kept fighting.

As they ate, the conversation turned light. Layla recounted one of her childhood memories, a story about a pet rabbit she’d once had and how it had stolen a loaf of bread off the counter. Jane burst into laughter when Layla mimicked the rabbit’s guilty face.

"Poor rabbit," Jane said, still chuckling. "Did it get away with it?"

Layla shook her head, smiling. "Nope. My mom caught it red-handed—or red-pawed, I guess—and scolded it like it was a kid. But she gave it a carrot afterward, so I think it was a win for the rabbit."

Karl listened, his smile widening as the warmth in the room grew. He couldn’t remember the last time they had laughed so freely. It was as if, for one evening, the weight of survival had lifted, allowing them to just be.

When the bowls were empty, Jane leaned back with a contented sigh. "Okay, I’ll admit it—this might’ve been the best meal I’ve had in... well, years."

"I second that," Layla said, pushing her bowl aside. "Thanks, Karl."

Karl waved them off, standing to collect the dishes. "Don’t thank me. Thank Layla for catching the rabbits and Jane for cleaning them. It’s a team effort."

Jane smirked. "Still, you’re the one who made it taste this good."

As Karl washed the bowls in a small basin of water they’d melted from snow earlier, Jane and Layla settled by the fire. Layla poked at the flames with a metal rod, while Jane leaned back with her arms behind her head, her eyes half-closed.

The quiet crackling of the fire filled the room, lulling them into a state of peaceful calm. Layla eventually broke the silence. "You think we’ll ever have nights like this... outside of all this? You know, normal nights, where we’re not just surviving but actually living?"

Jane opened one eye, her expression thoughtful. "Maybe. But I don’t think ’normal’ exists anymore. Whatever comes next, it won’t be what we had before."

Karl, finishing with the dishes, joined them by the fire. He sat down and stared into the flickering flames, his expression unreadable. "Maybe it won’t be the same, but we’ll figure it out. As long as we have nights like this, there’s hope."

Layla smiled softly. "Hope’s good enough for me."

They sat there together, letting the fire’s warmth wash over them. Outside, the wind howled, and the frostbitten world remained as cold and unrelenting as ever. But inside their little sanctuary, the bond they shared felt unbreakable. For tonight, they had each other, a warm meal, and the quiet comfort of knowing they weren’t alone. It was enough.