The steamed bun in his hand suddenly lost its appeal. With a soft thud, the quarter of a bun he had left dropped to the floor.
He stared in Stella Sterlingâs direction, his eyes wide with disbelief.
âThis woman is just too wasteful! Even if she has a lot of food stockpiled, it wonât last if she eats like that.â
Stephen Lawrence watched for a moment before suddenly struggling with all his might. His body, bound to the chair, lurched forward as he yelled, "I wonât stand for it! Itâs not fair! I want some of your food, too! Why do I only get a steamed bun?!"
The commotion quickly drew Stella Sterlingâs attention. She put down her chopsticks and strode over. "Whatâs all this noise about? You tired of living?"
As she spoke, she kicked the chair Stephen Lawrence was sitting on. The chair, with him still in it, shot backward a considerable distance, only stopping when it crashed into something.
Although the kick hadnât landed on Stephen Lawrenceâs body, the resulting shock sent a paralyzing jolt through him, and his ears were still ringing.
Stella Sterling walked up to him, picked up a nearby stick, and rested it on his shoulder. She tapped it lightly a few times, but the gesture was dripping with menace. "What was that you said? You wonât stand for it? Stand for what? I didnât hear you clearly. Say it again."
This immediate response shocked Stephen Lawrenceâs jealousy-addled brain back to its senses. He glanced warily at the stick. âIf I say one wrong word,â he thought, âthat thing is coming down on my head.â
He swallowed hard and tried to placate her, his voice cautious and fawning. "I... I didnât say anything, beautiful. I just meant... your food looks so delicious. Could I maybe have a bite or two?"
âHow could I dare talk about fairness now? I just need to stay alive!â
"Oh? Thatâs not what you said a moment ago, was it?"
Stella Sterling raised an eyebrow. The next second, the stick swung down. Stephen Lawrence flinched, squeezing his eyes shut.
A moment later, a searing pain shot up his leg. He clenched his jaw and endured it without crying out.
âThank God she didnât hit my head,â he thought in a dizzy haze of relief. âIâve cheated death again!â
He opened his eyes and saw Stella Sterling looking down at him coldly. "Donât forget your place. To put it nicely, youâre helping me practice my medical skills. To be blunt, youâre just my captive. Youâre lucky Iâm feeding you at all, let alone giving you actual grain. You still dare to be picky? Fine. Then you donât have to eat ever again!"
âWhat a joke,â she thought. âDoes he really expect me to give someone who tried to kill me, and failed, the same quality of food I eat? Whatâs going through his head? Is he an idiot?â
Stephen Lawrence nodded frantically. "Yes, yes, of course. Youâve been more than generous, beautiful. I was wrong. Iâll never do it again, I swear!"
How could he not be filled with regret? Just moments before, he had been quite satisfied with the steamed bun and had even thought Stella Sterling was generous. But the comparison had sparked a sense of unfairness that made him lose all reason, causing him to forget his own desperate situation.
And the searing pain in his leg was the price for his outburst.
âMy leg aches so much itâs going numb. I heard a distinct CRACK moments ago. Iâm pretty sure my shinbone is broken.â
But right now, he didnât dare voice a single complaint.
Stella Sterling watched his face go white with pain. "Since you think the steamed bun isnât good enough, you can forget about eating the rest of it today," she said. "You can eat again when youâve come to your senses."
With that, she took the other half of the bun he had hidden in his shirt. "I was planning to work on reattaching your tendons today, but it seems youâve broken your leg bone. So, this afternoon, weâll take care of that first. Behave, and if youâre good, you can still have this bun. If not, youâll just have to wait until tomorrow."
After giving her instructions, Stella Sterling turned and left, closing the door to the medical room behind her.
Only then did Stephen Lawrence let his guard down, letting out a few pained groans.
He was consumed by regret. âWhy did I have to throw a fit? Now my leg is broken, and Iâve lost my food.â
âIf only Iâd known. I should have just kept my head down.â
Stephen Lawrence tilted his head up slightly, his body wracked with pain. His eyes showed both physical agony and the torment of regret.
âThankfully, Iâm still useful to her. As long as I behave myself, I might still have a chance to get that half a bun back.â
After an unknown amount of time, once the pain had eased slightly, he slowly stretched his body, trying to pick up the piece of the bun he had dropped on the floorâ
After finishing her meal, Stella Sterling didnât hurry back to the medical room. Instead, she stood by the window, raising her binoculars to look out at the cityscape. There wasnât much to see besides an endless expanse of white, but she still wanted to look, to ease the oppressive feeling of being stuck inside all day.
She noticed that in the apartment across the way, the curtains were always drawn tight and never opened.
Stella Sterling raised an eyebrow and smirked.
After a short rest, she headed for the roof. Starting today, she planned to spend some time out in the heavy snow each day to acclimate herself to the frozen weather.
She couldnât stay cooped up forever. Sooner or later, she would have to go outside, and the weather would be just as brutally cold. She figured she needed to let her body slowly get used to these temperatures; it was another way of strengthening her constitution.
Humans are incredibly adaptable. It had been the same for her in her past life. At first, the cold was unbearable, but after she persevered through that initial hardship, her body had slowly grown accustomed to the ice and snow.
It was still miserably cold, of course, but it was a cold she could survive in. She wouldnât just freeze to death the second she stepped outside.
She knew that at the current temperature, people could still get around outside if they gritted their teeth and bore it. But she also knew that this was far from the coldest it would get...
That was why she had to start preparing now, letting her body adapt little by little. She couldnât just hide away in a warm bubble forever. It might be comfortable, but her ability to adapt would fall behind everyone elseâs when it truly mattered. If circumstances allowed for comfort, she would absolutely take it; she wouldnât make herself suffer for no reason. After all, the whole point of hoarding so many supplies was to enjoy her life.
But she would not allow that comfort to make her so fragile that she couldnât survive outside of it.
She had to be able to enjoy herself when she could, and endure hardship when she must.
Lost in thought, Stella Sterling pushed open the door to the rooftop. The snow was piled high. As the door swung open, a thick sheet of it collapsed inward, rushing toward her. She quickly grabbed the railing and ducked back into the stairwell.
Luckily, the snow on the roof was quite compact, so not much of it fell down, and the small avalanche stopped after a moment.
She vaulted nimbly back up, stepping out from the stairwell onto the roof. A biting cold wind immediately assaulted her.
Thick snow weighed down on the rooftop, but it hadnât cracked. âThe construction quality in this complex really is decent!â