Evil MC's NTR Harem

Chapter 1051: Chapter 1051 Bench

It was the first time in weeks Miku felt the simple comfort of being clean.

And yet, even as her body rested, her mind didn’t.

She dreamt of Ace—his hand reaching for hers through fire and smoke, his voice calling her name from somewhere she couldn’t reach.

When morning came, she woke with a start, drenched in sweat.

The light that filtered through the curtains was pale and weak, but it was enough to remind her that the nightmare outside was still real.

She stepped to the window, her heart sinking at the sight.

The street below was crawling with zombies—limping, swaying figures that wandered aimlessly through the ruins of what had once been a quiet suburban neighborhood.

The air outside was still and heavy, filled with the faint scent of decay that the wind carried from somewhere far away.

Her chest tightened.

Ace was still out there somewhere. Maybe trapped in their house. Maybe fighting to survive. Maybe waiting for her.

She couldn’t stay here forever.

Wiping the sweat from her brow, Miku straightened her back, her reflection faintly visible in the dusty glass.

There was fear in her eyes—but beneath it, there was something stronger. Determination.

She wouldn’t give up on Ace. Not now. Not ever.

After a quick breath, she left the room and walked downstairs to the basement.

The house was quiet except for the faint murmur of the TV in the background.

Ross was already awake, seated at the kitchen counter with a mug of coffee in hand.

His dark hair was still damp, as if he had just showered.

The light cast sharp shadows across his face, making his expression unreadable.

Miku hesitated at the doorway, gathering her courage once more. Then, she stepped forward.

"Ross," she said softly.

He looked up at her with a questioning glance but didn’t speak.

"I know you said no last night," she continued, her voice steadier now.

"But I can’t just sit here while my husband is out there. I’m not asking you to risk your life for him—not unless you choose to. But please... at least tell me what I need to do. I’m willing to do anything for you. Just please save my husband."

Ross studied her for a long moment, the faint steam from his coffee curling upward between them.

Something flickered in his eyes—respect, maybe. Or curiosity.

Then he leaned back slightly, setting the mug down on the counter.

"You’re serious," he said at last.

Miku nodded. "I am."

Ross was silent for a few seconds longer. Then, finally, he sighed.

"Alright, Miku," Ross said, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"If you’re that determined to convince me to go back out there and save your husband, then you’re going to have to do a lot more convincing."

Miku froze. Her chest constricted as a cold wave of fear and helplessness washed over her.

For a brief moment, she felt the walls of the house close in, the dim light of the room pressing down like a weight.

Her mind raced—Ace was out there, in their home or somewhere, and she was trapped here, unable to reach him.

She had thought Ross was different, a protector in a world that offered none.

"I thought... I thought you were different from those men, Ross," she spat, her voice trembling with anger and disbelief.

"I thought you were better. Upright, good... someone who actually cared. But you’re... you’re just the same trash as them!"

Her words struck the room with the weight of her disappointment.

Every syllable carried her heartbreak, every glance reflected the hope she had once placed in him, now shattered.

Her hands clenched into fists, nails digging into her palms, as if to anchor herself against the swirling storm of her emotions.

Ross didn’t flinch. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his gaze finally leaving the flickering TV.

His expression remained calm—cold, almost detached.

Then he shrugged, a simple motion that somehow carried both dismissal and indifference.

"You might be right," he said slowly, his tone eerily even.

"And honestly? I don’t care. My door’s open—you can leave anytime. I’m not forcing you to do anything. It’s you who’s been bothering me."

He turned back to the television, flipping the channel with a practiced motion.

The screen flickered, showing burning cities, abandoned cars, and the endless hordes of zombies wandering aimlessly through streets once filled with life.

The world outside was chaos, destruction, and death.

The stark contrast between the calm in the room and the devastation on the screen made Miku feel even smaller, even more powerless.

Miku’s hands fell to her sides.

Her chest heaved, heavy with frustration, despair, and a growing, gnawing realization: she had no one to rely on in this world except herself—and perhaps Ross, whether she wanted to admit it or not.

The coldness in his voice stung, but beneath it, she could sense a strange kind of clarity.

He wasn’t lying; he wouldn’t put himself at risk for someone he didn’t know.

That harsh truth settled over her like ice, yet somehow, it also gave her resolve.

Minutes passed in silence.

The only sounds were the soft hum of the television and the distant groans of the undead outside.

Miku’s eyes darted to the screen, to the flickering images of chaos, then back to Ross. She bit her lip, feeling a tear slip down her cheek, and then another.

Her pride battled her desperation, but ultimately, survival and hope won over embarrassment.

"...Okay," she whispered at last, her voice barely audible.

Her shoulders slumped slightly, but her gaze remained steady, fixed on Ross.

She took a small, hesitant step forward, the floor creaking beneath her weight.

Each movement felt like a battle—her fear and her determination pulling in opposite directions.

Ross glanced at her, just once, before returning his attention to the screen.

His expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker—almost imperceptible—of something behind his eyes.

Interest? Curiosity? Respect?

Miku couldn’t tell.

She swallowed hard and moved closer, closing the distance between them.

The air in the room felt heavier now, thick with tension.

Her heartbeat drummed in her ears, mingling with the faint sound of the television.

She felt exposed, vulnerable, yet resolute.

"Ross..." she began again, her voice stronger this time, tinged with determination.

"Tell me what you want me to do."