As planned, the work on breaking through the underground passage began. However, the operation to prepare for Elle’s intrusion remained on hold. They still didn’t have a solid plan that could convince everyone.
On top of that, Charlie turned out to know far less than they had hoped. After all, he was just a low-ranking member, not part of Kintner survival camp’s leadership.
"We should have kept the higher-ups alive."
Looking back, it was a regrettable oversight. For now, Charlie Green was confined to an empty storage room on the second floor of Happy House.
Ethan had warned Charlie that if he caused any trouble, he’d be transferred to the underground prison at the police station. Since then, Charlie had been remarkably quiet, likely realizing that being locked up in the relative safety of Happy House’s second floor was actually a better deal.
Creak.
Ethan sat on the steps by the front door, idly spinning the cylinder of his revolver.
From his vantage point, he could see Emma, Susanna, and Vanilla working in the vegetable garden. Victor was nearby, hauling water to help them.
Cherry was busy collecting eggs from the chicken coop. At a glance, it looked like an idyllic rural scene.
She was a curious case—remarkably strong but lacking in stamina. Cherry, more aware of this than anyone, was determined to build her endurance. That’s why she exercised in the garden at dawn. From the moment Ethan saw her gulping down milk at the crack of dawn every day, he knew one thing for sure: she was surprisingly diligent—almost excessively so.
Except for the one time she collapsed from overwork and caught a fever, Ethan had never seen her take a break. No matter how often he told her to rest, she wouldn’t budge. If things kept up, Ethan thought, she wouldn’t die from a monster bite but from sheer exhaustion.
"Sir Ethan? What are you doing here? Didn’t you head out to dig?"
Cherry approached him with a basket of eggs tucked under one arm.
When she ventured out into the village, she wore riding clothes or the tailored pants Emma had fixed for her. But inside the estate, she always stuck to wearing elegant dresses paired with adorable cocktail hats.
It was likely her way of maintaining a sense of normalcy in a collapsed world. Cherry had always been particular about fashion.
Yet, there she was—dressed to the nines with a basket of eggs under her arm and an axe strapped to her back.
Ethan couldn’t help but think that this mismatched appearance encapsulated her perfectly. She was multifaceted, hard to read at a glance, and full of contradictions.
Ethan stood up, dusting himself off. With a click, he slid the revolver’s cylinder back into place and holstered it on his thigh.
"I came to inform you, Miss Cherry. Pathway Two has been cleared first."
Cherry’s eyes widened, and a bright smile spread across her face.
"That’s great! We should head there right away. Oh, but Sir Ethan, are you sure about this?"
She was about to step back inside, but she paused to look at him. Her small, delicate face was suddenly right in front of him.
"Sir Ethan?"
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"What did you say?" Ethan snapped out of his thoughts and asked her again. Cherry sighed and repeated herself.
"Are you sure it’s fine for you to stay here?"