-Footsteps in the Frost

  Kenji was halfway through a lukewarm can of Kenji’s Spam Slam? when the turret beeped.

  Beep. Beep. Lifeform detected. Approaching.

  He froze, spoon halfway to his mouth.

  “Already?” he muttered, glancing at the external monitor.

  The camera feed flickered through a layer of static before focusing on three blurry figures trudging through the snow. Heavy coats. Makeshift armor. One was dragging a small sled behind them. Another limped. The third waved a red flare slowly, signaling no hostile intent—or so Kenji hoped.

  He sighed and put down the can.

  “I just got warm, damn it.”

  He opened the turret interface and zoomed in. They weren’t demons or zombies. Human. Probably mercenaries or scavengers. All of them looked half-frozen and half-dead.

  He hovered his finger over the manual fire option… then stopped.

  “If they wanted a fight, they wouldn’t be waving a flare.”

  Still, he wasn’t about to trust anyone just because they looked pitiful. In this world, pity was currency—and people faked it well.

  Kenji leaned into the intercom mic, voice dry.

  “Keep your distance. Say your business.”

  The woman at the front stepped closer to the mic receiver, pushing down her scarf. Her face was windburnt, sharp-eyed, and not young. She had the look of someone who’d killed before and expected to kill again—but not today.

  “We picked up your signal on the trade net,” she said. “If you’ve really got food… we want to trade.”

  Kenji raised an eyebrow. He flicked through the turret’s scan overlay. Their weapons were worn and cold-damaged. Ammo: low. Supplies: barely any. They were desperate.

  “You got anything I want?” he said.

  The woman glanced at the sled behind her.

  “Depends. How hungry are you?”

  Kenji leaned back in his seat.

  “Not nearly as hungry as you.”

  -The Bait and the Beans (Final Version)

  The wind screamed across the snowy wasteland, drowning out most sound—except the sharp hiss of Kenji’s service hatch opening. He shoved a steaming can through it without a word.

  Kenji’s Baked Bean Regret?

  “Now with 30% more sadness!”

  The mercenary woman caught it with gloved hands and tossed it to the half-frozen man beside her. He cracked the lid, took a sniff, and nearly dropped the can from the shock.

  One bite.

  Two.

  His knees hit the snow.

  “It’s real… It’s hot… it doesn’t taste like acid and dirt…”

  Kenji watched from the monitor, sipping from a battered mug.

  “Great. I broke him.”

  The woman stepped forward.

  “We want to trade. Properly.”

  Kenji tilted his head. “What’ve you got?”

  One of her crew pulled the tarp off their sled. Inside: a decent collection of salvage.

  ? A pouch of dull monster crystals

  ? A few mutated demon claws

  ? A cracked but glowing frostcore shard

  ? Bits of bone scrap still pulsing with residual heat

  Kenji’s system pinged the items:

  [Estimated Energy Yield: Low-Moderate]

  [Quality: Usable]

  Not bad. He could keep the generator alive for another two days with that haul.

  But the woman wasn’t finished.

  “We’ve got one more thing.”

  She stepped to the back of the sled and pulled back a second tarp.

  A containment pod.

  Functional.

  Inside: a young girl. Maybe fourteen. Pale. Black hair. Asian features. Starved, but unmistakably pretty—too pretty. Fragile frame, but her chest pressed tightly against the thin shift. Her appearance clashed with her condition—like a doll left to rot in a box.

  Kenji frowned.

  “You’re selling a person.”

  “We were taking her to Bastion to sell. Slave markets are always open. But this…” she pointed at the steaming can in the snow, “is more valuable now.”

  “How much?” he asked.

  “Twenty cans.”

  Kenji didn’t respond immediately.

  Internally, he was stunned.

  Twenty cans…? That’s it? Where I’m from, that’s barely worth a grocery run. And here it buys a whole person?

  He leaned back in his seat.

  Human life’s cheap out here. I need to know more about this world.

  He looked at the pod again. The girl inside wasn’t enhanced. Likely didn’t know much. But she had to know more than he did. He didn’t know the laws. The politics. The currency. Not even the monsters.

  If I’m going to survive this shithole, I’ll need information. And food makes people talk.

  He clicked the console open again.

  “Will she obey me?”.

  The woman nodded once.

  “Standard Bastion model. Slave collar’s active. Once you imprint on the chip in her head, she can’t disobey. Tries to run, she’s paralyzed. Tries to hurt you… the collar fries her brain. Fast and clean.”

  Kenji grimaced

  “Fast and clean,” he muttered. “Right.”

  He tapped the screen.

  [TRADE CONFIRMED – 20 CANS TRANSFERRED – POD ACCESS GRANTED]

  The pod let out a hiss and began its thaw sequence. Steam spilled from its seams.

  Kenji leaned back in his chair.

  “Well… let’s meet my new informant.

  - Lira Wakes Up

  The containment pod hissed as it thawed, coils steaming and frost melting along the seal lines. A soft ping from the console signaled that the system was ready for imprinting.

  [INSTALL SLAVE COLLAR?]

  [MODEL: CLASS-B NEURAL BINDING SYSTEM]

  – Subdermal brain-embedded chip

  – Collar syncs to owner’s ID

  – Disobedience triggers neural paralysis

  – Hostile intent triggers fatal surge

  – Signal range: 100 meters (urban), 1 km (open terrain)

  Kenji squinted at the glowing message.

  Well, that’s horrifyingly efficient.

  He tapped [YES].

  A mechanical arm extended from the truck’s wall with surgical precision. It held a slim, black collar—matte finish, faintly glowing with blue trim. The tag had already been etched with his name, whether he liked it or not.

  Kenji didn’t even have to lift a finger. The truck did the rest. The collar floated to the pod, slipped into place around the girl’s neck, and clicked shut.

  A small light blinked once—then turned green.

  [BINDING COMPLETE – SUBJECT IMPRINTED: KENJI]

  She belonged to him now.

  Kenji crossed his arms as the pod doors slowly opened, releasing a final rush of steam into the cabin.

  Inside, the girl shifted.

  She twitched, then coughed, her thin frame barely able to hold itself upright as she blinked against the sudden light. Her eyes were wide, unfocused, scared. She looked around, trying to sit up, but even that seemed like a struggle.

  Then she saw him.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  She flinched—visibly—and tried to retreat into the pod’s corner, only to find her limbs too weak to obey.

  Kenji raised a brow.

  “Easy. You’re not in a slave pit anymore.”

  She didn’t respond. Her gaze darted between him, the walls, the collar on her neck.

  He walked over, reached into the food warmer, and popped the lid off a steaming can.

  Kenji’s Sweet Lie Fruit Mix?

  “Now with 20% more hope!”

  The scent hit the air, sweet and strangely comforting.

  He held it out.

  She stared at it… then at him.

  “Eat,” he said.

  Her hands trembled, but she reached out, took the can, and raised it to her lips.

  The first bite made her eyes go wide. The second made her exhale like she’d just tasted something forbidden. The third came with tears.

  She kept eating.

  No words. Just desperation. Relief. Hunger.

  Kenji returned to his seat and let her finish. When she finally looked up, her lips stained with syrup and her eyes still wet, he asked casually:

  “Name?”

  Her voice came out small, almost a whisper.

  “Lira…”

  “Alright, Lira,” he said, “you work for me now. Eat, sleep, don’t cause trouble. Simple.”

  She stared at him a moment longer. Then slowly nodded.

  “Yes… Master.”

  Kenji blinked once.

  That was fast.

  She curled up beside the warmer without another word, clutching the empty can to her chest like it was sacred.

  Kenji stared at her for a while. Not with lust. Not with sympathy. Just confusion.

  What the hell did I get myself into

  -The Cling Begins

  Kenji was trying to enjoy a can of Kenji’s Classic Beef Sadness? when he realized she hadn’t moved an inch.

  Lira sat beside the food warmer, hugging her knees, clutching the empty can she’d just devoured like it was a family heirloom. She kept glancing at him—quick little peeks whenever she thought he wasn’t looking.

  Kenji sipped his broth and sighed.

  “You don’t have to stare. I’m not going to throw you out.”

  She flinched, then immediately shook her head. “I’m not scared. I’m… just making sure you’re real.”

  “I’m as real as canned beef stew in a snowstorm.”

  She didn’t laugh, but she smiled—just a little. Then, with almost no hesitation, she scooted closer. Her bare feet tapped lightly against the truck floor as she moved to sit on the ground beside his seat, still silent.

  Alright… clingy. That didn’t take long.

  The collar around her neck pulsed softly—still linked to him, still functioning.

  He glanced at the system console. No alerts. No misbehavior.

  Just one update:

  [STATUS: SLAVE OBEDIENCE – HIGH]

  [LOYALTY TENDENCY: GROWING]

  “System, define loyalty tendency growing.”

  [Subject Lira is developing emotional dependence on the user. Caution: frequent feeding may accelerate attachment.]

  Kenji narrowed his eyes at the screen.

  “Wait, what?”

  Before he could say more, there was a soft knock at the truck’s outer shell. A radio beeped.

  “Hey, snack man,” the woman’s voice called from outside. “Thanks for the trade. You’re a miracle out here.”

  Kenji grunted and opened the comm line.

  “Don’t go getting dramatic on me.”

  “Too late. Word travels fast. A can of real food? That’s legend-tier stuff. You’ll be getting more visitors. Hope you’re armed.”

  “Always.”

  The turret behind him beeped as if to agree.

  [DEFENSE STATUS: ARMED – 97% READY]

  Kenji cut the feed and turned to Lira.

  She was still staring at him.

  Still sitting close.

  Still clutching that empty can like it was magic.

  “You’re gonna be a handful, aren’t you?”

  She blinked, then nodded shyly.

  Kenji leaned back, eyes on the snowy horizon outside the reinforced glass.

  First trade. First slave. First follower. One can at a time, huh?

  -Reputation Spreads

  Beneath the frozen surface, where warmth was a privilege and food was mostly powder and regrets, the word was already spreading.

  “Someone’s selling real food up top.”

  The phrase passed through every layer of Bastion’s undercity like wildfire. Through filthy corridors, merchant stalls, mercenary dens, and scavenger guilds. Even the black-market slave traders were whispering it over sour wine and synthetic beef.

  “Hot food. Real food. Cans with meat, fruit, even beans. The kind of stuff you read about in books.”

  “No, he ain’t underground. He’s on the surface.”

  “Who in their right mind sets up shop on the surface?”

  “Someone crazy… or someone with backup.”

  They spoke in hushed tones, like saying the vendor’s name too loudly would jinx it.

  “They call him the Snack Shack.”

  “That can’t be real.”

  “No, really. It’s what the system lists him as.”

  And there it was, spreading like plague:

  Kenji’s Post-Apoc Snack Shack.

  A name so stupid it had to be true.

  Back in the truck, Kenji sneezed.

  “Huh. Someone must be talking about me.”

  He sat at his console, going through the system’s stats while Lira wiped the inside of the microwave with a rag—voluntarily. She didn’t say much unless spoken to, but she stayed close. Always close.

  Kenji kept glancing at the monitor.

  A blinking notification pulsed at the corner of the screen.

  [NETWORK UPDATE – TRADE NODE STATUS: ACTIVE]

  [REPUTATION TIER: UNKNOWN LEGEND]

  [VISIBILITY: GROWING]

  “…Unknown legend?” he muttered. “The system’s trolling me again, isn’t it?”

  He tapped for more info. A pop-up appeared.

  [Congratulations! Your weird little food shack is now the talk of the wasteland! Expect customers, stalkers, scavengers, assassins, and horny survivors within a 10-kilometer radius. Good luck, champ!]

  Kenji stared at it.

  “That’s not even passive-aggressive. That’s just aggressive.”

  From the corner of the truck, Lira finally spoke.

  “You’re kind of famous now, Master.”

  He groaned. “Don’t call me that while I’m eating.”

  She tilted her head. “Then when should I call you that?”

  “…Just go back to wiping things.”

  She smiled.

  And Kenji leaned back in his chair as the wind howled outside, the turret slowly rotating in idle patrol.

  This is getting out of hand.

  -The Next Customer Comes Knocking

  The turret beeped first.

  Kenji didn’t even flinch. He was too busy trying to convince himself that Kenji’s ‘Don’t Ask’ Deluxe? wasn’t made from demon rat meat.

  Beep. Beep. Lifeform detected. Approaching: 1.

  He sighed and looked at the external feed. One figure moved through the snow—no convoy, no escort, no sled. Just one lone traveler, stumbling forward.

  Wrapped in patchwork gear and dragging a half-frozen cloak, the person moved fast—but unsteady. The scanner pinged again.

  [Race: Beastkin – Female – Approx. Age: Late Teens]

  [Condition: Wounded – Bleeding]

  [Weapons: Twin Bone Daggers – Low-grade]

  Kenji sipped from his tin cup.

  “Weird. Brave or desperate.”

  The hood of the figure flapped in the wind, briefly revealing a furry, silver-tipped ear.

  “Ah. Beastkin,” he muttered.

  Beside him, Lira leaned in close to the screen. “She’s limping.”

  “Observant,” Kenji grunted.

  He hit the comms. “Identify yourself.”

  The girl stopped in her tracks, visibly startled. She turned toward the turret slowly. Her voice came through, strained and wind-choked.

  “P-Please… I heard about the Shack… I’ll trade! Just don’t shoot!”

  Kenji tapped the [SCAN TRADE OFFER] option. The system pinged her belt and inventory pouch.

  [Analyzing…]

  [ITEM 1: Mid-grade Monster Crystal – Energy Value: 1.2 Cans]

  [ITEM 2: Carved Stalker Fang Dagger – Trade Value: 0.6 Cans]

  [TOTAL ESTIMATED VALUE: 1.8 CANS]

  [NOTE: Subject is wounded, weakened, and unenhanced. Estimated food cost to heal: 2–3 cans minimum.]

  [TRADE RATING: POOR]

  Kenji stared blankly at the result.

  “She’s worth less than two cans and she’s bleeding on my snow.”

  The system chimed again, annoyingly helpful:

  [ALTERNATE VALUE: Subject is female, beastkin, and visibly attractive. Potential reproductive and labor value: +2.0 cans (black market estimate).]

  He immediately swatted the message away.

  “System, stop pricing women like side dishes.”

  Still, he kept watching the screen.

  The girl swayed… then collapsed to her knees in the snow. One hand clutched her ribs, blood blooming through her coat.

  Lira looked at him, wide-eyed. “She’s going to die.”

  Kenji clenched his jaw. He tapped his console.

  “System. If I let her in, will she be trouble?”

  [Threat Level: Low]

  [Obedience Potential: Moderate – Increases with food exposure.]

  [Current Risk: 14%]

  He groaned.

  “Fine. One can’s worth of charity.”

  He opened the outer hatch lock and flipped the speaker.

  “Get her inside. She trades, she eats. No free rides.”

  Lira was already moving.

  Kenji leaned back, muttering to himself as the snow blew harder against the truck walls.

  “At this rate, I’m gonna end up with a line of starving girls and nothing but bean stew.

  -The Beastkin’s Bargain

  The inner hatch slid open with a hiss, letting in a blast of freezing air—and a barely conscious girl who collapsed face-first onto the metal floor.

  Lira struggled to drag her in, groaning under the weight.

  “She’s heavier than she looks!”

  Kenji knelt beside her. The beastkin girl’s face was flushed from cold, but undeniably pretty—delicate silver hair with small braids, soft ears tipped with black fur, and faint claw marks across one cheek. Her lips were pale. Her breathing was shallow.

  She was barely holding on.

  “System, health check.”

  [STATUS: Moderate Blood Loss – Severe Fatigue – Starvation Symptoms Detected]

  [RECOMMENDED RECOVERY: 2–3 Cans, Warmth, Medical Patch]

  Kenji rolled his eyes.

  “You want a bed and breakfast too?”

  Still, he opened the warmer and popped a can of Kenji’s Spam Slam?. The system auto-heated it, releasing a wave of savory steam.

  The girl stirred.

  Her eyes cracked open, catching the scent like a wolf picking up prey.

  “F-Food…?”

  Kenji crouched beside her and held the can near her mouth.

  “Eat it, but this isn’t free. You offered a fang dagger and a low-grade crystal. That’s less than two cans. You owe me one.”

  She grabbed the can and drank the contents like it was holy water. Within seconds, her entire body shivered—not from cold, but from the heat working through her.

  “You… you’re the food guy…” she whispered between gulps. “The Snack Shack…”

  Kenji grunted. “Yeah, that’s what the system decided to call it. Not my idea.”

  She exhaled, eyes still watery from exhaustion and whatever the hell passed for seasoning in Spam Slam?.

  “I’ll do anything. Just let me stay. I’ll work. Fight. Clean. Whatever you need.”

  Kenji narrowed his eyes. “Anything?”

  The system chimed in again:

  [Subject emotionally vulnerable. Food imprint effect detected. Loyalty likelihood increasing rapidly.]

  He stood up and crossed his arms.

  “Name.”

  “Elyra,” she whispered. “I ran from my old master. He wanted to collar me… for breeding. I barely escaped.”

  Kenji’s eyes twitched.

  “…System, blacklist ‘breeding’ keywords from conversations.”

  [Denied. Gods find it hilarious.]

  He muttered a curse under his breath.

  Elyra shakily sat upright, still holding the can close to her chest.

  “If you’ll keep me here… I’ll bind myself to your collar willingly.”

  Kenji blinked.

  “You’re offering to be my slave?”

  She nodded without hesitation.

  “Better yours than the next bastard. At least you feed people.”

  Lira peeked from the corner with a pout. “Another one…?”

  Kenji rubbed his forehead.

  “I’m not collecting strays. This isn’t a damn harem anime.”

  But as Elyra’s silver eyes locked onto his—and her ears perked up ever so slightly—Kenji already knew the system was going to add another name to his asset list.

  - Elyra’s Integration

  Elyra stood shakily in front of the console, her silver hair damp from melted snow, clutching a blanket Lira had reluctantly handed her.

  Kenji looked her up and down. She was already recovering—color returning to her cheeks, her breathing slower, more even. Beastkin resilience was no joke.

  [COLLAR INITIATION READY]

  [SUBJECT: ELYRA – CONSENT DETECTED – INSTALL NOW?]

  Kenji tapped [YES] with a sigh.

  The same sleek mechanical arm extended from the wall, presenting a fresh black collar—simple design, blue LED trim. The moment Elyra reached for it, it clicked open and levitated toward her neck like it had a mind of its own.

  With a soft snap, it locked into place.

  [IMPRINT COMPLETE – REGISTERED OWNER: KENJI]

  Elyra didn’t flinch.

  She touched the collar gently, then looked at him.

  “Thank you.”

  Kenji blinked. “For what?”

  “For giving me a second life. And a hot can of whatever that was.”

  “Spam Slam,” he muttered.

  “It was… beautiful.”

  Lira let out a loud hmph from the corner.

  “She didn’t even wipe her mouth and now she’s in a collar. That’s cheating.”

  “Not a competition,” Kenji said, already regretting saying anything.

  Elyra sat beside the heater, soaking in the warmth like a happy stray.

  The system chimed again.

  [ASSET ADDED: ELYRA – STATUS: OBEDIENT – LOYALTY TREND: RAPID INCREASE]

  Kenji opened the food dispenser, grabbed a Kenji’s Sweet Lie Fruit Mix?, and tossed it to her. She caught it with both hands, almost reverently.

  “Eat. Then rest.”

  “Yes, Master,” she said without hesitation.

  Lira muttered something under her breath.

  Kenji stared at the screen, then flicked to the turret camera feed. The cold outside was creeping back in, snow piling around the tires again.

  More people would come.

  More trades. More girls. More weird system alerts with god-awful names.

  And more cans with his name on them.

  He stared at the growing stock of system-labeled meals with dread.

  Kenji’s Noodly Depression?

  Kenji’s Meatball Madness (Now 12% Meat!)?

  Kenji’s Elf-Bait Deluxe?

  He groaned.

  “This is my life now

  -The Food Effect Deepens

  Kenji stared at the console screen, spoon paused halfway to his mouth.

  Lira was humming again.

  Across the small cabin, she neatly folded a blanket for the third time—smiling softly to herself. On the opposite side, Elyra silently scrubbed the microwave with a cloth like it was a holy relic. Her silver ears twitched every time Lira giggled.

  Kenji slowly finished his bite of Kenji’s Noodly Depression?, watching both of them with a flat expression.

  They’re acting weirder than usual.

  He tapped the system.

  [LOYALTY SYNC – LIRA: 96% | ELYRA: 88%]

  [NOTE: Subjects developing strong emotional attachment. Influence linked to continued exposure to system-generated food.]

  Kenji frowned.

  “System. You sure that’s not a bug?”

  [Attachment effect consistent. Not a malfunction.]

  “Convenient.”

  Behind him, Lira’s voice floated in sweetly.

  “Master, do you want a back massage? You’ve been hunched over all day…”

  Kenji blinked.

  “…Yeah. Just keep it to the shoulders.”

  She smiled brightly and moved behind his chair. Her fingers found the tension in his muscles right away, working it out with quiet care.

  He let out a low sigh.

  “Damn… that’s dangerously good.”

  The pressure was perfect. She’d clearly practiced. Maybe more than she let on.

  Elyra glanced over, clearly unimpressed.

  “You know, beastkin are known for our dexterity. I could help too.”

  “Noted,” Kenji mumbled, half-dozing.

  Lira’s hands didn’t slow.

  “I don’t mind. As long as I’m the one he calls first,” she said quietly—too quietly for Elyra to miss.

  Kenji opened one eye and gave her a sideways look.

  Okay. That’s new.

  The system chimed once, unobtrusively:

  [Lira Affection: Stable – Signs of Possessiveness Detected]

  Kenji closed the screen without a word.

  “This truck is getting too cozy.”

  End of chapter.