SSS-Class MILFs And Their Yandere Daughters, I Want Them All!

Chapter 577: Fend Off The Wolves

The shout echoed through the cavern, shattering the moment. Anya and Mika turned to see the adults glaring at them from across the cave.

The older nurse who had taken Anya’s mattress was on her feet, her face twisted with irritation.

“How can you be so noisy?!” She demanded. “We’re trapped underground, possibly going to die, and you’re over there laughing and playing like it’s a festival!”

“Some of us are trying to rest.” Another nurse added. “Not that you care.”

“This is why children shouldn’t be allowed in situations like this.”

Muttered the attendant who had destroyed Mika’s transmitter.

“No sense of decorum. No understanding of the gravity of our situation.”

Anya felt a flash of anger, but Mika put his hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t.” He said quietly. “They’re not worth it.”

“But they—”

“I know. But arguing with them won’t help. Let’s just…do our own thing.”

So they did.

They continued their plays.

They painted more murals until their entire corner of the cavern glowed with color.

They invented games with rocks and crystals and scraps of debris.

They told each other stories about the future.

And through it all, Anya knew what Mika was doing.

She wasn’t stupid. Every game, every painting, every silly play—it was all for her.

All to keep her mind occupied. All to keep her from breaking down in this dark, lonely place.

And it was working.

Even after the nurse’s cruel words, she could feel the warmth of Mika’s efforts wrapped around her like a blanket.

He was her shield against the darkness that lurked inside her own mind.

“Mika?” She said softly.

“Mm?”

“Thank you.”

He looked at her, surprised. “For what?”

“For everything.” She leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. “For the paintings. For the games. For the plays. For…”

She hesitated, searching for the right words. “For not giving up on me.”

Mika was silent for a moment. Then he put his arm around her, pulling her close.

“I would never give up on you.” He said. “Never. No matter what.”

“Even if I’m not brave? Even if I’m still scared all the time?”

“Especially then.” He rested his chin on top of her head. “You don’t have to be brave, Anya. You just have to be here. That’s all I need.”

Anya closed her eyes and let herself relax into his embrace. She could hear his heartbeat—steady, strong, reassuring. It was the sound of home.

‘I’m so lucky.’ She thought. ‘Even down here, in this horrible place, I’m so lucky to have him.’

Later that night, when Mika had finally fallen into an exhausted sleep, Anya stayed awake.

She looked up at the cavern ceiling and she clasped her hands together.

“Hello God.” She whispered, feeling a little silly. “I don’t know if anyone is listening. I don’t even know if prayers work down here, with all the Anti-mana and everything.”

“But…I wanted to try anyway.”

She took a deep breath.

“I’m not going to ask for rescue. I know Mommy and my aunts are doing everything they can. I trust them. But…”

She glanced at Mika’s sleeping form, at his pale face and the dark circles under his eyes.

“Please, whoever is listening, please take care of Mika.”

“He’s working so hard. He’s suffering so much. And he’s doing it all for me.”

Her voice cracked, and she had to pause to collect herself.

“If…If only one of us can make it out of here, please let it be him. I don’t mind staying. As long as Mika survives. As long as Mika gets to go home and be happy again, I don’t mind being left behind.”

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

“That’s all I want. That’s my only prayer. Please. Please keep Mika safe.”

She stayed like that for a long time, sending her desperate wish into the darkness.

And when she finally lay down to sleep, she curled up close to Mika, as if her small body could somehow protect him from all the horrors of this place.

—

But all those happy days came to an end on the fifteenth day.

Anya and Mika were in the middle of a quiet game of rock-stacking, trying to see who could build the tallest tower before it toppled, when they heard footsteps approaching.

She turned to see the adults advancing toward their section of the cavern.

There were six of them, and their expressions were not friendly. Their faces were gaunt, their eyes hollow, their movements twitchy and erratic.

They looked less like doctors and nurses and more like hungry animals.

Mika was on his feet immediately, positioning himself between Anya and the approaching mob.

“What do you want?”

“Food.” The older doctor said. His voice was raspy, desperate. “We need your food.”

Anya’s mouth fell open.

“Our food? But you already took most of it! You took ninety percent of everything Mika found!”

“And now it’s gone.” The doctor’s lips peeled back in something that was almost a snarl. “We’ve been out of food for two days. Two days of nothing but water. We’re starving!”

“That’s impossible!” Anya stepped forward, her small hands balled into fists. “Mika said there was enough food for at least a month if you rationed it properly! You should still have plenty left!”

The adults exchanged uncomfortable glances. One of the nurses, the same one who had complained about the mattress let out a huff of indignation.

“The boy doesn’t know what he’s talking about. There was never enough food for all of us. We were very careful with our portions, very disciplined.”

“But the supply was simply insufficient.”

“You’re lying!” Anya’s voice cracked with fury. “You’re lying! You ate it all, didn’t you? You couldn’t control yourselves, so you just—you just gorged on everything until there was nothing left!”

“How dare you!” The nurse’s face flushed red. “You ungrateful little—we gave you children extra portions because we felt sorry for you!”

“We sacrificed our own shares so you could eat more!”

“And now that we’re the ones in need, you refuse to help us?”

“That’s not true! That’s not true and you know it!”

“Enough of this.” One of the attendants growled. “We’re not here to debate. We’re here to get food. Hand it over.”

“We’re older and weaker! You children can survive without eating for a while!”

It was complete nonsense.

As doctors, nurses, and medical staff, they understood perfectly well that children required nutrition far more urgently than healthy adults.

Yet in their desperation, they had discarded every ounce of professionalism and ethics.

But the truth was, desperation alone wasn’t responsible for their behavior.

From the very beginning, they had never been decent people.

The corruption hadn’t existed solely among the hospital’s higher-ups or in the embezzlement of funds.

It had seeped into every corner of the institution.

Recruitment itself had been riddled with nepotism and favoritism.

Relatives with mediocre qualifications had been handed positions they didn’t deserve, political allies had been appointed to roles they were utterly incapable of performing, and genuine talent had been pushed aside.

The hospital had become a haven for incompetence.

It was the reason the workplace had always been plagued by toxicity, long before this nightmare ever began.

Despite being one of the largest hospitals in the region, locals avoided it whenever they could.

Patients would rather travel to a much smaller clinic than entrust their lives to the people working there.

So, desperation hadn’t turned them into selfish people.

It had merely stripped away the thin mask they had worn all along.

Anya was about to refuse again, when Mika stepped forward.

“We don’t have any food.”

Anya’s eyes widened in surprise. That wasn’t true. She had personally seen the remaining food not long ago.

“What do you mean you don’t have any food?” the doctor demanded. “We saw you with supplies just yesterday!”

“We ate it all.” Mika said with a shrug. “We’re children, remember? We don’t know how to ration properly. We got hungry, so we ate. It’s all gone.”

“You’re lying!”

“Search our area if you want. You won’t find anything.”

The adults hesitated, exchanging uncertain glances. Then, with a snarl of frustration, the doctor gestured sharply.

“Fine. We’ll search.”

What followed was a violation.

The adults swarmed through Mika and Anya’s corner of the cavern like locusts, overturning everything in their path.

They kicked aside the painted stones that Anya had arranged into a garden.

They tore down the curtain Mika had used to make a fort.

They trampled the paper airplanes that had been lined up for the next race.

“Stop it!” Anya screamed. “You’re ruining everything! STOP!”

But they didn’t stop. They searched every nook, every crevice, every hiding place.

And all they found was a pile of empty food wrappers—plastic bags and torn packets that Mika had deliberately left in plain sight.

“There.” Mika said, gesturing at the wrappers. “See? All gone.”

The adults stared at the evidence of their own failure. Their faces cycled through disbelief, frustration, and finally, bitter resignation.

“Children.” One of the nurses muttered. “This is why you don’t give food to children. No self-control. No discipline.”

“We should have rationed it ourselves from the beginning.”

“Shut up.” Anya spat. “Just shut up!”

But they just ignored Anya and walked away, muttering to themselves about the irresponsibility of youth.

Not one of them acknowledged that they had done exactly what they were accusing the children of.

Not one of them showed any shame for destroying the only semblance of comfort two trapped children had managed to create.

When they were finally gone, Anya turned to Mika with tears in her eyes.

“Why did you let them do that? We do have food! I saw it! There’s still—”

Mika held up a hand, silencing her.

Then he walked over to a section of rubble near the wall, a pile of stones that the adults had completely ignored and carefully removed several rocks to reveal a hidden compartment.

Inside was a box, and inside the box were packets of food in zip-lock bags, neatly organized and completely untouched.

Anya’s mouth fell open. “You…You hid it?”

“I knew they would come eventually.” Mika’s voice was tired. “So I made sure they would find exactly what they expected to find—empty wrappers. Enough to convince them we had nothing left.”

“You’re amazing.” She breathed. “You’re absolutely amazing, Mika!”

But Mika didn’t look triumphant.

He looked…worried. His eyes were fixed on the adults in the distance, and there was a darkness in his expression that Anya didn’t understand.

“What’s wrong?” She asked. “We have food. They think we don’t. They won’t bother us anymore.”

“Everything’s going to be okay now, right?”

Mika was silent for a long moment. Then, very quietly, he said,

“That’s exactly the problem, Anya.”

She tilted her head, confused. “What do you mean?”

“They have no food left. They can survive on water for a while, but eventually…starvation will set in.”

“Real starvation. The kind that makes people desperate.”

His voice dropped lower. “The kind that makes people stop being people.”

Anya’s innocent mind struggled to comprehend what he was saying.

“I don’t…I don’t understand.”

Mika turned to face her, and the look in his eyes made her heart clench with sudden fear.

“There’s still food in this cavern, Anya.” He said. “Two plump, delicious meals. Fresh meat. Easy prey.”

It took a moment for the words to register. And when they did, Anya felt her blood run cold.

“No.” She whispered. “No, they wouldn’t…they’re doctors. They’re nurses. T-They’re supposed to help people.”

“Right now, they’re starving people. And starving people become animals.”

Mika’s hands were shaking.

“It won’t happen today. It might not happen tomorrow.”

“But eventually, when the hunger becomes unbearable, they’ll start looking at each other differently. And then they’ll realize that the weakest among them, the easiest targets…”

He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to.

Anya’s legs gave out. She sank to the ground, her mind reeling

“But we’re just children.”

“That’s exactly why we’d be the first.”

She wanted to argue. She wanted to tell him that even the worst people wouldn’t sink that low, that there had to be some line they wouldn’t cross.

But she thought about the way the adults had looked at them when they demanded food.

The hunger in their eyes. The desperation.

And she knew Mika was right.

“What do we do?” She whispered.

Mika knelt beside her and took her hands in his.

“We find food for them.”

“What?”

“We find another source of food. Something, anything that will keep them fed.”

“If they have enough to eat, they won’t get desperate enough to…to consider other options.”

The realization of what he must do to survive made him grimace, his teeth sinking into his lower lip in frustration.

Under normal circumstances, this would never have been a problem. Even without a blessing, Mika’s body was far from ordinary.

He possessed superhuman strength, speed, and physical abilities that no child should ever have.

Had he been in his usual condition, slaughtering those adults and wiping them out to protect Anya would have been effortless.

But the Anti-mana field surrounding them had reduced him to a pitiful state.

It had weakened him so severely that he was now even frailer than an ordinary mortal. That was why desperation had begun to creep into his heart.

If not for this cursed field, every last one of them would have already been dead.

Instead, he had no choice but to endure. He had to find food—no matter the cost—before the starving wolves closed in, because keeping Anya safe was the only thing that mattered.

“But where are we supposed to find—”

“The cracks.” He stood up, his jaw set with determination. “I only explored them looking for exits before.”

“But this time, I’m going to look for food. Plants. Fungi. Subterranean creatures. Anything that grows in caves. There has to be something.”

“Mika, you’ve already searched everywhere—”

“Not everywhere. Not thoroughly. I was looking for a way out. I wasn’t looking for a food source.”

He was already gathering his makeshift tools—the rope, the pickaxe he’d fashioned from scrap metal and wood.

“This time, I know what I’m looking for.”

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