Evil MC's NTR Harem

Chapter 1047: Chapter 1047 Construction

They entered the house in silence, moving like shadows slipping through the broken doorway.

The faint creak of the wooden floorboards beneath their boots was swallowed by the moaning of distant zombies outside.

Dust drifted lazily through the stale air, illuminated by the faint shafts of light coming from cracked windows.

It didn’t take them long to find her.

Miku was crouched near an overturned table, methodically placing cans of food into her worn black backpack.

Her motions were calm, careful—each can stacked neatly as though she was building her own fragile sense of peace.

Her lips curved into a soft, fleeting smile, the kind that hadn’t graced her face in days.

For a brief moment, she looked almost happy, lost in the quiet rhythm of survival.

Then she looked up—and froze.

Five men stood in the doorway, their faces half-hidden by grime, their clothes torn and bloodstained.

But what froze Miku wasn’t their appearance—it was their expressions.

Their eyes weren’t the eyes of desperate survivors.

They gleamed with a sick hunger, the kind that made her stomach twist.

The smile vanished from her face as if it had never existed.

"..."

No words came out. She knew there was no reasoning with men like these.

Without thinking, she turned and bolted toward the back door.

Her heart pounded in her ears. The strap of her bag dug into her shoulder as she ran.

Behind her, she heard the muffled laughter of the men, slow and mocking.

"She’s running," one of them drawled.

"Let her. It’s more fun that way."

Miku clenched her teeth. She had seen this before—on the news before the world fell apart.

People showing their true nature when there were no laws, no police, no one left to stop them.

She had seen the videos, the women who screamed for help that never came.

And worse—she had seen it in real life.

During her scavenging trips, she had stumbled upon scenes she could never forget: blood on the floor, torn clothes, and the hollow eyes of those who didn’t escape in time.

Not me. Not today.

"Shit!" she hissed under her breath as she reached the front exit.

Her hope shattered instantly—the doorway was crawling with zombies, their rotting arms reaching, jaws snapping as they fought to get inside.

She staggered back, her pulse spiking with panic. She couldn’t go that way.

If those men weren’t here, she could’ve hidden and waited for the zombies to move on.

But now she was trapped between the dead outside—and the monsters inside.

Her eyes darted around wildly until she spotted another door at the end of the hall.

She sprinted toward it and slipped inside, slamming the door shut before locking it with trembling hands.

The small room was dark except for the faint light filtering through a cracked window.

Miku pressed her back against the door, her breath ragged, chest rising and falling as she tried to silence the noise of her own fear.

Her palms were slick with sweat, and she could hear the blood rushing in her ears.

For a long moment, there was only silence. Even the groans of the zombies outside seemed distant now.

She dared to hope that maybe—just maybe—they had lost track of her.

Then came the sound.

Tap...

tap...

tap...

The faint footsteps approached, slow and deliberate. She could hear their muffled laughter, their voices low and cruel.

"Where’d the little mouse go?" one of them whispered.

"She ran in here somewhere," another answered, his tone almost gleeful. "I can smell her fear."

The doorknob jiggled. Once. Twice.

Then came the voice.

A soft, mocking whisper seeped through the crack beneath the door, thick with twisted amusement.

"Come out, come out, now, miss..." The man’s voice was sing-song, but his words dripped with menace. "There’s nowhere left to run. Just spread your legs for us and we’ll all be happy."

Miku clamped a hand over her mouth to keep from gasping.

Every instinct in her body screamed at her to move—but she didn’t dare.

She could hear them breathing just beyond the door.

The air was thick with dread.

And as the doorknob began to turn ever so slowly, Miku realized something with chilling clarity.

The zombies outside were not the real monsters anymore.

Miku pressed her back against the cold wall, her knees trembling as she tried to steady her breath.

Every sound outside the door made her flinch—the shuffle of boots, the low, guttural chuckles of the men, the faint creak of floorboards beneath their weight.

Her hands clutched the small fruit knife she had found earlier, its dull blade glinting faintly in the dim light that leaked through the cracks.

She prayed silently, lips moving without sound. She didn’t pray for strength.

She didn’t even pray for escape. She prayed simply that the end, when it came, would be quick.

The silence stretched on unbearably, broken only by the faint moans of zombies outside the ruined house.

The men waited. She could feel it—like wolves circling prey, savoring the fear before the kill.

Thirty long minutes passed.

Then, a faint sound—a soft metallic click.

Miku froze. Her entire body went rigid. The lock trembled once.

Then again. Something scraped against the wood—metal grinding against metal.

Her heart raced, her hands slick with sweat. She pressed her palm to her mouth to stifle a whimper.

Suddenly, the door jolted violently. The second time, it cracked. The third, it gave way entirely.

BANG!

The old hinges snapped, and the door crashed inward. Dust and splinters filled the air.

Five silhouettes stood in the doorway, their figures outlined against the pale light from the hallway.

Their faces were twisted with satisfaction and hunger—human, yet monstrous in every way that mattered.

"Well, well..." one of them drawled, licking his cracked lips.

"Look what we’ve found. A new bitch for us to play. Beautiful, meaty, and fresh."

It was Gage, the leader of the group. His voice dripped with cruel delight.

The others grinned and laughed behind him, their eyes devouring Miku as if she were already theirs.