When the World Ends, She Begins novel Chapter 13

The rescue team finally arrived.

After several days of nonstop rain, the water level had reached nearly 30 feet, completely flooding the third floor.

Once they'd finished rescuing people stranded outside, the rescue teams started evacuating the residents on the lower floors of the condo building. Everyone from the second to the fourth floors was moved to high-rise hotels and office towers.

But just as the rescue workers were about to leave, more residents came pouring down the stairs, surrounding them.

"Hey! When's the rain gonna stop? It's not gonna reach my floor, right?"

"I saw online that it's pouring all over the world. Is this the end of days? Do you guys have any official news?"

"Can you bring us some food? We're almost out at home."

"Bring it to my place first—my kid needs fresh milk every day."

"My parents won't eat pasta. Can you bring some whole grains for them?"

"What's going on outside? Do you have any spare kayaks or rafts we could borrow?"

More and more people joined in, their voices rising with panic.

One of the rescue workers, eyes red from exhaustion, finally said, "We don't know either. The rain came too fast. Our headquarters got flooded.

"My wife was swept away by the water. We still haven't found her.

"We've been out there for days, saving people nonstop. None of us has slept."

The crowd fell silent. Taking the opportunity, the rescue team quickly evacuated the lower-floor residents.

A heavy, oppressive tension filled the air.

...

Two more days passed. The rain still didn't stop. Now, the water had reached the fifth floor.

There was no sign of a second wave of rescue teams.

The fifth-floor residents were now in the same position the second-floor residents had been days before—begging the upper floors for shelter.

But this time, no one responded.

Food was running low for everyone.

"All I've got left is pasta," someone posted in the building's group chat. "Any neighbors willing to trade some vegetables?"

"You're lucky," someone replied. "I've only got two eggs left. I'd be happy just to get some instant noodles."

That message got a response fast. "I've got instant noodles," someone replied. "I'll sell you a pack for 300 dollars."

That set off an uproar. "Are you serious? That's a three-dollar item!"

"How can you ask something like that of your neighbors?"

"Yeah, what kind of person price-gouges during a crisis? It's not the actual end of the world. The rain will stop eventually!"

The criticism poured in.

Then, suddenly, a new message popped up—from the heavyset guy from unit 1302, right below Natalie's place.

"If they don't want it, I do. How many packs do you have? I'll buy them all."

That stirred up even more outrage.

"Are you nuts?"

Even the guy from across the hall—Natalie had seen him before, with the buzz cut—chimed in.

"Didn't you just butcher half a pig a few nights ago? We heard you chopping all night. Why are you paying premium prices for instant noodles now?"

"I've got money, and I can spend it how I like!" the man from 1302 replied. "Anyone who's got extra food—I'm buying. Name your price."

Natalie stared at the messages, her expression unreadable.

That wasn't reckless spending—that was awareness. The guy from 1302 was smart.

He had done the same thing in her past life, stocking up early and fasting.

But he was also dangerous.

He loved stirring up trouble, playing people against each other for his gain. People like him—manipulators—were more dangerous than looters.

The group chat was still full of angry messages about price gouging, but the man from 1302 had already gone downstairs and picked up his noodles.

The seller, thrilled, thought to himself, I just made thousands of dollars from a few packs of instant noodles!

He had no idea how badly he'd regret this moment later.

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