When the World Ends, She Begins novel Chapter 11

Near the checkout counters were stacks of cigarettes and condoms.

Natalie didn't smoke, but she knew these would be as good as currency in the apocalypse.

For seasoned smokers, cigarettes were luxury items—you used them up one stick at a time, and once they were gone, they were gone.

As for the condoms ... well, she didn't have a boyfriend, but she remembered from her last life that rich housewives in the villa district had gone wild hoarding them.

In a world where danger lurked at every turn, pregnancy was practically a death sentence.

With a wave of her hand, she swept them all into her space.

The floodwater had risen again. Natalie quickly swam toward the stairwell and climbed up to the second floor.

One side was lined with makeup counters, the other with shoes and handbags.

She ran from end to end, grabbing everything she could reach. There was no time to worry about brands or styles.

The third floor was women's fashion.

She had stocked up at the wholesale market before, but the quality didn't compare to these.

Especially undergarments—those needed to be comfortable and well-made.

Once the third floor was cleared out, her storage space was running low, so she skipped the fourth floor's men's and kids' apparel.

Instead, she headed straight to the fifth floor—home goods.

Leather sofas, solid wood beds, rosewood tea tables, massage tubs ... everything from luxury furniture to the basics.

There were mosquito nets, bamboo mats, and bedding sets.

There were appliances too—ACs, fridges, washing machines, and small ones like fans, ovens, blenders, and hairdryers.

She already had most of these at home, but if she ever had to move, she'd need spares.

It was the apocalypse, after all—and even in peaceful times, who didn't move house at least a few times in life?

With this much stuff, she could set up home anywhere.

The sixth floor was the cinema. Natalie took a quick look around. Aside from the popcorn machine, there wasn't anything worth taking.

Then she reached the seventh and top floor.

It was marked as the mall owner's private space, locked tight.

Natalie pulled out her hydraulic shears and a sledgehammer. Time for brute force.

The moment the door opened, the air practically screamed "wealth."

There was a massive desk, a sprawling tea table, and shelves of priceless tea and teaware. The paintings on the walls? Those were genuine masterpieces. Even the decorative pieces lying around were antiques.

But what caught Natalie's eye the most was a thirteen-foot-long, three-ton emerald landscape sculpture by the wall.

The material was high-grade emerald.

It had exquisite craftsmanship. The quality was stunning.

She admired it for a moment, then shoved it into her space without hesitation.

In an instant, the space that had been jammed full from looting the entire mall suddenly expanded by another 43,056 square feet.

The dingy two-story bungalow inside transformed into a sleek, 2,153-square-foot two-level villa.

Wow, what a massive change in my space this time.

Natalie muttered as she checked the changes in awe.

Apparently, the upgrade power of the emerald depended on quality too.

This piece was huge, finely carved, and pure—it had turbocharged the upgrade.

Even the bracelet on her wrist evolved from waxy-clear to icy-clear emerald.

Natalie sighed, thinking, It's totally worth the trip.

Still riding the high, she turned her attention back to the rest of the boss's stash.

Inside the mini-fridge, there were A5 wagyu, Valarian lobster, caviar, black truffle ... all scooped into her space.

The wine cabinet held the good stuff too—Dom Pérignon, Lafite from '82, top-shelf scotch, all of which she stored in her space.

There were cigars, premium teas, golf clubs, foreign literature ... and—wait, was that a box of car keys?

It doesn't matter, I'll grab them all.

There were even antiques and paintings.

In the apocalypse, none of it would be worth a damn. In the extreme cold, those works of art would end up as firewood.

She might as well take them while she had space.

Within minutes, she'd cleared out every inch—except for a single floor vase with a bird design. No matter how she touched it, it wouldn't go into her space.

What's going on?

Ah—that's why.

Hmm? This doesn't match the guy's flashy vibe.

What kind of psycho doesn't use a safe or bank for this?

This is ... an Uzi submachine gun?!

Big boss, you're really something.

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