Chapter 1

When my best friend and I were thrown into a post-apocalyptic novel as the villainesses, we responded by hoarding enough supplies to bankrupt a small country, and left the so-called hero to starve.

Victoria Lane was the heir to a supermarket empire, with a warehouse store's worth of inventory at her fingertips.

I was the construction engineer who specialized in building the kind of doomsday bunkers people only dream about.

The system told us our ticket home was simple.

We should make every terrible decision the plot demanded, hand over our stockpile to the hero, Ethan Quinn, let him humiliate us, and then die messily at the hands of zombies.

Victoria slid a slice of A5 wagyu into a hot pan, where it hissed and spat.

I turned up the heat on the pool's heating system and poured myself a glass of Dom Pérignon.

Wait, did the system really think we were desperate to go back to paying off thirty years of mortgage and eating expired instant noodles like corporate slaves?

Later, when Ethan showed up with the delicate little heroine, Lily Hart, they both knelt in the acid rain, begging.

I smirked, "Well, well, if it isn't golden boy Ethan."

Victoria snorted, "This biscuit's gone moldy. My dog wouldn't touch it. But by all means, it's yours."

The system shrieked inside my skull. 'That's your ending! Stop mocking me and open the door so he can rob you already.'

I shot back, "Open the door? Not happening. Fire the cannon? Now that I can do."

We watched the hero sail into the distance, propelled by a very satisfying explosion.

Victoria and I exchanged a look.

Going back to the real world? Not even a fool would make that trade.

*****

I opened my eyes to a ceiling of bulletproof glass. The air vents hummed softly, keeping the room at a perfect seventy-two degrees. The mattress beneath me was so plush I felt like I was floating.

Beside me, Victoria was passed out, drooling on a giant lobster-shaped pillow.

A sharp ding echoed in my head, and that grating mechanical voice announced itself on schedule.

'Hosts, the plot has begun. Please proceed to the main gate immediately to greet the male lead, Ethan. Insult him in the most humiliating manner possible, then allow him to relieve you of your supplies.'

I massaged my temples, sat up, and tapped the control panel by the bed. The blackout curtains rose with a soft whir.

Outside, the sky burned the color of old blood. Overturned cars clogged the streets, and smoke rose from a dozen fires.

Down below, twisted creatures with too-long limbs tore into a passerby, their movements frantic and mindless. Blood splattered against the reinforced glass of the outer wall.

It was the apocalypse, the very first day of the zombie outbreak.

Victoria stirred beside me. The system's voice had woken her, too. She wiped drool from her chin and squinted at the ceiling.

"Greet the male lead?" she muttered. "Tell him to take a hike. I'm sleeping."

The system's voice pitched higher. 'Hosts! Pull yourselves together. You are the villainesses. If you deviate from the plot, you will face erasure.

'Think of the real world. Don't you want to return?'

Victoria and I looked at each other.

The real world.

The place where we ground through sixty-hour weeks, spent three hours a day on public transport, spent thirty years paying off a mortgage while convincing ourselves a single cherry was a splurge?

Victoria swung her legs out of bed, her bare feet sinking into the thick Persian carpet.

She crossed the room and pulled open the heavy vault door hidden in the bedroom wall. A wave of cold air rolled out.

Inside, shelves stretched to the ceiling, packed with unopened cases of prime ribeye, pallets of Spam, tubs of pre-made mac and cheese, and enough Gatorade to fill a swimming pool.

As the heir to the city's largest grocery chain, she'd emptied ten warehouses and moved everything here before the outbreak even began.

She grabbed a bottle of Dom Pérignon, twisted off the cork, and drank straight from the neck.

"Go back?" She let out a satisfied burp. "Only an idiot would choose that."

I walked to the central control console and pulled up the security feeds. A wall of monitors flickered to life, displaying every angle of the property.

This villa on the mountainside was my masterpiece. I'd spent three months retrofitting it before the novel pulled us in.

Aerospace-grade alloy cladding on the exterior walls, glass that could withstand a direct rocket strike, a fully self-sufficient ecosystem in the lower level, and three industrial generators as backup.

As chief engineer at the city's top security firm, I'd built plenty of fortresses for clients. This one was mine.

The system's voice grew frantic. 'Warning. Ethan will arrive at the gate in five minutes. Hosts, prepare to open the entrance and receive your designated humiliation.'

I kept my eyes on the monitors.

A man in blood-soaked clothes was hauling a frail-looking woman up the mountain path, his movements desperate. Behind them, a handful of zombies lurched in pursuit, their jaws slack and hungry.

That was Ethan Quinn and Lily Hart, the reincarnated MC and his pitiful heroine, straight out of this apocalypse story.

I picked up my iced coffee and took a slow sip. "Not opening the gates."

My hand hovered over the defense controls. "But activating the electric fence? That I can do."

Victoria wandered over, cracking open a bag of Doritos. "Snacks ready, drinks ready. Let the show begin."