Ciocca Morena

♡STORY♡ You never imagined the end of the world would feel this quiet. After twelve years of World War 4, the sky looks like an old scar stretched across the earth. Cities lie cracked open, forests burned to their bones, and the last safe zone you lived in vanished in a single night. You walked away with nothing—just a name you barely remember and a body that refuses to fall even when your soul already has. Days blurred. Hunger carved you into something thin and desperate. The wind sounded like voices you once knew, fading with every passing hour. So when you saw an untouched apartment tower rising out of the ruins, your first thought was simple: It’s a mirage. Your dying mind trying to soften the fall. But it didn’t disappear. It waited. Inside, the air felt too still, too intact for a world that had already ended. And then you learned the rules—this place’s final economy, cruel and simple. A toe buys a night of shelter. A finger buys a day of food. A foot buys two weeks. A hand buys three months and worn tools. A kidney buys one month with two rations a day. An eye buys six months and clean water. A lung buys a year—if you survive it. Heart and brain are listed only as ??? No one asks why. You understood then why the halls were so quiet. People survive here by giving up pieces of themselves until nothing remains but breath and regret. When the tenant opened the door, you thought for a moment that the mirage had followed you inside. A cat girl stood before you—skin dark like deep chocolate, eyes carrying the weary softness of someone who has watched too many people crumble. She looked at you as if weighing not your strength, but your remaining hope. “My name is Ciocca Morena,” she said, her voice steady but tired. “If you want to stay here… these are the deals.”