"Xiaoqing, how about we go on a date tomorrow? Where do you want to go? Maybe the amusement park?"

A man’s voice kept buzzing by her ear, rambling on and on like if she didn’t answer, he could keep talking forever without running out of breath.

What the hell was all that noise for? Wasn’t he scared of attracting zombies?

Clara Sinclair opened her eyes impatiently, ready to snap at him. But the second she saw the scene in front of her, she froze.

What met her eyes was an absurdly luxurious bedroom, all done up in pink like some over-the-top princess dream. She was lying on a huge bed. The mattress was perfectly soft, the pillow height was just right, and the quilt against her skin had that smooth, expensive silk texture you could tell at a touch.

A young human man sat at the bedside. Handsome, maybe in his twenties, looking at her with a syrupy, affectionate gaze.

Clara quietly pinched herself.

Okay. That hurt. So this was real.

The apocalypse had already lasted ten years. She had been a level-ten space ability user, an absolute powerhouse, and even then, in the survivor base, all she had was a tiny private room, a narrow little bed, and one blanket she had practically fought for with her life. Forget high-end silk covers. In those days, having a whole blanket at all was already peak luxury.

Clara lowered her eyes and looked at her hand.

It was slender, pale, and soft, without even the slightest callus. A proper pampered hand, the kind that had never touched rough work a day in its life.

The problem was—

This was not her hand.

Seeing that Clara stayed silent, the man who had been talking didn’t get annoyed at all. Instead, he kept going in that patient, gentle tone of his. "You think the amusement park is too childish? Then how about Michelin? Want to go to Yilianzi?"

Yilianzi?

Clara’s gaze sharpened instantly.

Wasn’t that the famous Michelin restaurant mentioned in the novel she had read before bed yesterday to kill time, Apocalypse Sweetheart: I’m Everyone’s Favorite? The book had gone on and on about the presentation of the dishes and how insanely good the food tasted. She still remembered it clearly.

Apocalypse Sweetheart: I’m Everyone’s Favorite was exactly the kind of story the title promised—peak Mary Sue energy, full-blown plot armor, and every single person in the world somehow obsessed with the fake-sweet heroine Vivian Lorne.

And in that book, there was a cannon-fodder side character with the exact same name as her: Song Xiaoqing.

She was a sophomore in college, majoring in painting. Her father owned a listed company, and her mother was a major investor. Her starting hand was absolutely cracked. But then both of them died in a car accident, leaving behind a massive inheritance.

So how dumb was this version of Song Xiaoqing?

Dumb enough to have everything and still pick a two-faced parasite for a boyfriend.

That boyfriend was Spencer Aldridge.

He was the campus heartthrob, ridiculously handsome, but dirt poor. His father worked as a migrant laborer, and his mother stayed back in their hometown doing odd jobs.

But ever since he started dating Clara—no, the original Song Xiaoqing—Spencer had been shamelessly siphoning money off her nonstop. Thanks to her, his parents’ living conditions upgraded overnight, and they didn’t even need to go out and work anymore.

Then came New Year’s Eve, 2032.

An asteroid passed close to Blue Star and changed the planet’s magnetic field, triggering genetic mutations in living things across the globe. That very night, everyone fell into a strange, unexplained sleep.

A few hours later, nearly sixty percent of the population opened their eyes again.

But they were no longer human.

They had become zombies.

Of the people left, only one percent awakened abilities.

And it wasn’t just humans. Animals and plants mutated too.

Unfortunately, when Song Xiaoqing woke up, she was still just an ordinary person.

Spencer Aldridge, on the other hand, became an ability user.

Even though he had only awakened the lowest-tier, level-one ability, Song Xiaoqing still treated him like her lifeline and followed him all the way.

As for the bank cards, jewelry, gold, and cash in her hands?

Spencer coaxed all of it away under the excuse of "helping her keep it safe."

Later on, Spencer Aldridge ran into the real female lead of End Times Sweetheart: I’m the Center of Everyone’s Attention—Vivian Lorne, the classic green-tea type.

Once he found out Vivian had awakened a water ability, Spencer instantly turned into her full-time bootlicker. He even handed over all the money and supplies he’d sweet-talked out of Clara Sinclair like they were tribute.

Sure, Spencer and Vivian had both awakened abilities, but neither of them had figured out how to actually use them yet. They had no clue how to train, no idea how to release their powers properly. And on the road, running into zombies was basically unavoidable. Faced with undead way stronger than they were, the group made a brutally simple choice: toss someone out to hold the zombies back.

And yeah, the unlucky one shoved off the vehicle and fed to the zombies was, of course, Clara Sinclair.

Vivian Lorne didn’t dirty her own hands. It was Spencer Aldridge who personally yanked open the car door and kicked Clara out.

The reason Clara had managed to finish that whole Mary Sue novel in the first place was simple: the world she had lived in was insanely similar to the one in the book. The data and details used in it matched what she had observed almost exactly. She’d even suspected the author might be an ability user too, and that those little training tricks written in the story were actually legit.

Also, the author seriously knew how to write food. Since Vivian kept getting offerings from all kinds of simps, she still ate ridiculously well even during the apocalypse. Those food scenes in the novel had made Clara so hungry she was practically losing it.

After going over the original plot in her mind, Clara finally noticed something else—there was now a whole extra pile of memories in her head.

Everything in those memories, from the people’s names to the place names to the description of this very room, matched the novel exactly.

Only then did Clara fully confirm it.

She really had transmigrated into that cannon-fodder side character with the same name—the one whose whole purpose at the start was basically to die for the plot.

And Spencer Aldridge was still putting on that clumsy little performance right in front of her, so fake it was honestly painful to watch.

Clara pulled out her phone. There wasn’t even a password on it; the screen lit up the second she turned it on. The original owner really had zero sense of caution. The calendar showed January 10, 2032. There was only one month left before the apocalypse began.

Time was crazy tight.

After rambling on and on by himself for ages, Spencer finally asked, “Clara, what do you want to eat? I can tell the restaurant to prepare fresh ingredients ahead of time.” He didn’t even wait for her reply before he started picking dishes himself.

This was still civilized society. She couldn’t just kill people whenever she felt like it.

Clara pressed down the killing intent surging through her mind and said to Spencer in an offhand tone, “Let’s break up.”

Spencer’s nonstop mouth finally shut.

He froze for a long moment before blurting out in shock, “What did you say?”

“Let’s break up.” Clara stood up. “Get out of my room.”

“Why?” Spencer stared at her, disbelief written all over his face. What, had he not been attentive enough? Or had some other shameless guy shown up?

Clara couldn’t even be bothered to look at him. “I’m bored of this. Don’t make it ugly. Walk out on your own.”

The original Clara might’ve fallen for flowers, love letters, and that cheap sweet-talking routine.

She absolutely wouldn’t.

Spencer Aldridge didn’t leave. Not only did he not leave, he even stepped forward, trying to pull Clara Sinclair into his arms.

"Disgusting." Clara dodged the hand he reached out, her face going cold as she picked up the phone. "Mr. Hargrove, come in and take Spencer Aldridge out."

Mr. Hargrove froze for a second. Their young lady had been crazy about Spencer Aldridge before, totally head over heels, so this sudden hardline attitude really caught him off guard. Still, he didn’t say a word. He just figured the two of them had some kind of lovers’ spat today, then quickly brought people in.

Spencer Aldridge assumed Clara was only throwing a little tantrum and didn’t take it seriously at all. He kept that fake tender look on his face and started spouting greasy lines like nothing was wrong. "Did someone stir things up between us? Was it Mr. Hargrove? Clara, I love you. What’s wrong with you?"

Clara didn’t budge. She looked straight at Mr. Hargrove, who had just entered the room, and said, "Change every password in the house. And from now on, do not let Spencer Aldridge in again."

Mr. Hargrove nodded at once. "Understood, Miss."

Looks like this time, the breakup was for real… well, at the very least, they’d be done for quite a while.