After They Tore My Dress Apart, They All Regretted It

Eighteen years ago, a bizarre, deadly virus broke out. It was extremely contagious. In just a few months, two-thirds of humanity were infected, and monsters took over the world. Humans retreated underground after that. Three hundred feet beneath the ground, buried deep in rocky layers, survivors built a shelter named Ark Bunker. As for me, Natasha Hinton, I was the only odd one out in Ark Bunker. I never had to hammer metal parts in dim workshops, bend down to grow potatoes in cramped planting zones, or grab weapons and step outside the bunker to face those rotting, ferocious monsters. The top floor of Ark Bunker was my exclusive living quarters. The space stretched across three thousand square feet, fully covered with soft cashmere carpets. Its walls were a warm off-white, free from the cold oppression of the end times. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked Ark Bunker's central ecological garden, where roses and lilies bloomed all year long. Ark Guards had risked their lives to retrieve those flower seeds from the ruins above ground—all so I could wake up each day and see a touch of life and vitality. Supplies were scarce across Ark Bunker, and every resident wore faded, rough cloth work uniforms. My closet, however, was filled with all sorts of beautiful dresses. Lace-trimmed princess gowns, fluffy Lolita skirts, soft cotton and linen long dresses—every piece was neat and spotless, without a single crease. The bunker's most skilled tailors had sewn each dress stitch by stitch, using the last batches of high-quality fabric left in stock. Everyone else barely survived on roach patties. Yet my dining table always held the freshest canned food available, no exceptions. Ordinary residents of Ark Bunker drank water mixed with dirt that tasted bitter. In my living quarters, every drop I used for washing and bathing was pure water refined through hundreds of filtration procedures. I had no labor to do, no worries to carry. My only daily routine was dressing up in pretty gowns and praying quietly for the bunker's peace, or taking walks in the ecological garden to safeguard Ark Bunker's safety. Roderick Harmon, the chief magistrate, was the founder of Ark Bunker—and the man who had protected me for eighteen years. He would always pat my head gently and say, "Natasha, you're a gift bestowed by heaven upon humanity, the guardian of Ark Bunker. As long as you stay warm and happy in your clean dresses, Ark Bunker will always stay safe." I never understood how this power worked. I only knew one simple thing: when I stayed clean and wore my gowns, an invisible sacred energy emanated from me. This energy could suppress all monsters within a ten-mile radius, keeping them from taking a single step close to Ark Bunker. For eighteen years, countless hordes of monsters gathered outside the bunker, yet none dared cross that invisible barrier. People in Ark Bunker lived stable and peaceful lives. They no longer had to stay constantly alert for monster attacks or linger in fear just to stay alive. They called me the Angel of Ark Bunker, their eyes full of reverence and gratitude. Eighteen years later, Roderick was getting old, and his health kept declining day by day. He held onto his last breath and announced his successor in front of all Ark Bunker residents—his daughter, Megan Harmon. Thirty years old, Megan had grown up doing hard labor and rigorous training. She was agile and tough-willed, with a domineering personality. She had long felt resentment toward my privileged life of luxury and ease. In her eyes, I was nothing but a mistress kept by Roderick, a useless drain wasting Ark Bunker's limited resources. She firmly believed everyone should be equal. She thought every person in Ark Bunker ought to work for survival, with no special treatment for anyone. And I was undoubtedly the biggest roadblock standing in the way of her ideals of equality. On the day of the succession ceremony, Megan stood on the high platform in a crisp military uniform. Her cold gaze swept over me, undisguised disdain and hostility clear on her face. I huddled behind Roderick, clutching the hem of my dress tightly, overcome by sudden, unexplainable panic. Roderick noticed my unease and patted my hand softly, murmuring in comfort. "Don't be afraid. Even after I'm gone, Megan will protect you just as I have all these years." But he never knew Megan's stubborn prejudice had already taken deep root in her heart. Just three days after taking over, Megan cut my living privileges under the excuse of optimizing resource allocation. My supply of purified water was completely canceled. The fresh canned food I always had was replaced with low-quality goods close to expiration. My exclusive nutritionist and tailor were reassigned to manual work in the lower-level workshops. I stood alone in my empty living quarters, wearing my favorite white lace dress. Staring at the moldy bread on the table, I couldn't hold back my tears. "Ms. Harmon, I need clean water, proper food, and a pure living environment to keep up my prayers." I plucked up my courage and found Megan busy with official matters in the command center. She lifted her eyes, her sharp gaze cutting into me like a cold blade. "Prayers? Natasha, get your facts straight. This is the end of the world. Ark Bunker's supplies go to working laborers and Ark Guards—not to keep a useless nobody like you fed." "I'm not useless..." I whispered in retort. "As long as I stay clean in my dresses, the monsters will never dare approach Ark Bunker..." "Enough." Megan slammed her palm on the table and stood up abruptly, shouting sharply. "Stop fooling everyone with these absurd lies. You only act spoiled and entitled because my father doted on you endlessly. Angel? You're nothing but a liar." Her loud outburst drew a crowd of nearby staff members. The way they looked at me shifted from gratitude to doubt and contempt. I trembled all over with grievance, yet I had no idea how to defend myself. Roderick once told me my ability was special and could never be explained in words—it could only be proven by reality. But Megan never gave me the slightest chance to prove myself. Right then, Roderick hobbled over in a hurry with his cane. He glanced at my pale face, then at furious Megan, and said in a deep, stern voice, "Megan, watch your manners. Natasha's power is real. Eighteen years of peace is the best proof there is." "Proof?" Megan let out a cold sneer. "Father, you've been completely blinded by her. Our eighteen years of safety were earned by our sweat and blood, not by her wearing fancy dresses and praying. You're just charmed by her beauty, that's why you've spoiled her like this." "Don't you dare talk nonsense." Roderick shook all over with anger. "Natasha and I have always been completely innocent. She is heaven's child, the hope of Ark Bunker—and it's nothing like what you're imagining." "Innocent?" Megan's eyes turned dark and sinister. "No one is going to believe that. A young and beautiful woman doted on by you for eighteen years—everyone can tell what kind of secret relationship you two share." Dirty rumors began to spread quietly from that moment on. People around whispered to one another, staring at Roderick and me with strange, suspicious eyes. I looked at Megan's twisted, vicious face, then at the doubtful stares of the crowd, and my panic grew heavier and heavier. I knew my peaceful life was coming to an end soon.