Apocalypse King: Recruiting S-Tier Beauties With My Ruler System
Chapter 173: The One I Hurt - Part 2

Chapter 173: The One I Hurt - Part 2

I sat silently, taking deep breaths while recalling what she had said.

"You’re right..."

Somewhere along the line, I became lost in the thought that I was some kind of hero. A protagonist who could do anything. I began to see those around me as NPCs or as individuals meant to enhance me.

However, they were real... all with feelings, desires, and thoughts.

The John Wang I used to be was gone. The hardworking man who suffered in order to succeed against all odds.

I wanted to change, to regain that part of myself.

But even as I thought it, I knew words wouldn’t fix anything. Not with Roulan. Not anymore.

She still stood there, arms crossed. Watching me.

Not waiting for an apology.

Waiting for clarity.

I didn’t stand.

"I’m not asking for your forgiveness."

"But if there’s a version of me that you will accept and stand beside... I want to find him."

She remained motionless. Just stared in the dim moonlight, eyes icy and piercing.

"Good," she finally said. "Because the version of you I’ve seen so far? That guy doesn’t deserve anything but silence."

That hurt.

But I didn’t flinch.

"You think you’re better than the others because you lead," she said. "But leadership isn’t fucking your way through the women who trust you. It’s holding them up when they’re falling. And knowing when you’re the one who needs to grow the hell up."

Her voice wasn’t angry. Not now.

Just tired.

"You’re not a monster, John," she said. "But you’re not a man yet, either. Not the kind I can trust with my back."

I nodded, slowly. "Then let me earn that."

Roulan’s eyes flicked away for the first time, but then returned with a more gentle shape.

"I don’t need your promise, because I know there is a kind and warm man inside there who is willing to sacrifice himself for us all Look..."

She stopped before stroking my cheek.

I enjoyed her cold palms that rubbed against me.

"I say this because I care about you—a lot," her voice softer. "If I didn’t, I’d have walked away without a word. But I couldn’t."

I stared at her, unsure of what I could say next.

So I didn’t.

She didn’t let go.

"You hurt me," she said, "but I don’t want you to vanish into guilt. That’s not what I need from you. I need you to be present. Aware. Honest. I need you to look at the people around you and see them—see me... not what they give you."

The ache in my chest deepened, but not painfully, like when a cut starts healing, still tender when touched.

She didn’t move her hand.

Her thumb slid once under my eye.

"See me," she said again. "Not the role I play. Not the body. Me."

I met her gaze and didn’t blink.

"I do."

"Now."

"Yeah," I admitted. "Now."

The silence between us wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t dramatic. It was thick. Stiff. Like breathing got harder the longer it stretched.

"I’m still angry," she muttered, lowering her hand. "I’m still fucking angry, John. You walked past me like I was background noise."

I didn’t argue. She wasn’t wrong.

"I’m not looking for flowers and a sorry," she said. "I’m not fragile."

"But..."

Her hands slid behind my neck.

"...if there’s even a piece of you that still remembers what it means to stand next to someone instead of in front of them, I’ll give you that chance."

"You don’t need to love me."

"Not tonight. But I want to be the person you think of when you stop pretending everything’s fine."

My hand found her waist, light, unsure.

She didn’t push it away.

But she didn’t lean in either.

"I’m not giving you everything," she whispered, "but I’m not giving up either."

Before I could respond, a warmth covered my lips... Roulan’s beautiful face moved closer as she kissed me with a soft, gentle peck.

She pulled back just as delicately as she had come, her gaze remaining focused on mine. There was no hunger in the kiss; it was gentle and relaxing.

It’s just presence.

"I needed that more than I thought," she said quietly to herself.

I did not speak.

Still clinging to this feeling of tranquillity and warmth.

She traced the skin of my neck before taking a step back while smiling.

"I’m going to bed."

There was a slight pause before she added.

"Alone."

My lips curled into a smile at her pouting face and upturned nose that vanished into the distance.

As she walked away, I felt like something shifted inside me.

I sat in the same chair, staring out into the darkness—everything was still, no wind or noises.

And yet, inside me, something had moved.

It wasn’t joy.

It wasn’t guilt, either.

It was something deeper. A kind of awareness. Like I’d finally seen a mirror I’d been avoiding for too long, and I couldn’t look away from the cracks.

Roulan wasn’t dramatic. She didn’t scream, or break down, or throw anything at me.

She just told the truth.

And that truth had more weight than anything a monster ever hurled my way.

I leaned back in the chair, ran a hand through my hair, and exhaled.

All this time, I’d been so focused on control over the group, over the chaos, over myself. But I’d mistaken control for care. I thought if I made the hard calls and kept us alive, the rest didn’t matter. What I said. What I did. Who I ignored.

I thought they’d just... accept it.

Because I thought being a leader meant standing above them, not beside them.

And maybe that’s where I started losing something I hadn’t realised I still wanted.

Connections.

I tapped the communication device twice... hoping to hear Old Zhou’s complaints for waking him up, but only the buzz of static followed.

"It figures..."

His last words made more sense now.

He was worried about Zhou Xue, that was obvious, but he also worried about me...

I looked up at the sky.

Only clouds, no stars and the moon was a faint curve. But the silence was comforting. I had hours until morning, lots of time to think.

"Let’s do our best."

——

Four hours later, I finally heard the others stirring.

I heard echoes down the halls—inaudible whispers, yawns, someone bumping a pan in the kitchen. The sound of Roulan’s laughter and her telling Liang Mei about her job and previous police arrests.

I sat on the balcony a little longer, watching the morning light creep over the edge of the city. It was beautiful to be honest.

My legs were stiff as hell when I stood up.

But something inside me felt... less tangled.

I stepped inside to find Qinglan already at the table, dressed, hair brushed, her blue eyes calmly flicking between a can of fruit and Yifei’s messy attempt at heating something over the portable stove. The blonde grumbled under her breath, stirring a pan with the kind of stubbornness only she could manage.

Zhou Xue was already geared up and checking her bowstring by the door. She nodded once when she saw me, but didn’t speak.

The group was forming again—quiet, functional, maybe even a little lighter than the night before.

Roulan entered from the hallway, tying her sleeves with a practised ease. Our eyes met briefly.

She didn’t smile.

But she didn’t look away either, instead teasing me with a wink.

"Morning, John."

"Morning, Roulan."

That’s when she smiled and nodded, slapping my ass before picking up her tonfa.

That was enough.

"Pack up in twenty," I said, my voice steady. "We move on foot to the highway checkpoint."

"Where to after?" Chen Xun asked.

"We’ll see what’s there first."

After we ate breakfast, I took the time to sit with Chen Xun and Deng Hua... listening to them speak as we geared up and prepared to leave.

I would make the effort, even without being told by Roulan, not just women... I also needed friends to avoid becoming mentally ill.

When we left, the front gate creaked open as we stepped out into the dead street.

It should’ve been a clean exit.

But halfway down the block, on the way to the south, we heard the engines.

Jeeps.

Three of them.

Then five.

They came from opposite ends of the street, tires screeching across the concrete, soldiers in mismatched gear standing upright with rifles raised.

"What the hell!?" Deng Hua complained.

"Shit..." Chen Xun followed because their guns were trained on us, not zombies.

"..."

Tang Wei looked nervous—she gazed at me before shaking her head.

"Hold, don’t fight them."

Once I spoke, even Jiang Roulan and Qinglan lowered their arms and stopped holding their weapons.

The soldiers didn’t speak.

Their guns did.

All trained on us. One wordless message:

Don’t move.

The door of the middle jeep opened.

A man stepped out. Clean boots. Military cap. Dark gloves.

And a pistol was already in his hand.

"Who is your leader?" He asked.

I didn’t answer.

But I stepped forward.

His lips curled into something too sharp to be a smile.

"You’re all coming with us."

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