

Kyle Hubert, an executor from the Underworld, agrees to Old Mr. Carter's dying request: marry into the Carter family under contract and protect them for three years.Despite his silent guardianship, the Carter family treats him with contempt and betrayal, ultimately expelling him just as the protection period ends. When the Carter family faces deadly calamity once more, they finally learn the truth about Kyle’s sacrifices and desperately beg him to return.
![[ENG DUB] The Husband They Shouldn't Have Lost](https://acfs3.goodshort.com/dist/src/assets/images/pc/common/f901131c-default-book-cover.png)
Kyle Hubert, an executor from the Underworld, agrees to Old Mr. Carter's dying request: marry into the Carter family under contract and protect them for three years.Despite his silent guardianship, the Carter family treats him with contempt and betrayal, ultimately expelling him just as the protection period ends. When the Carter family faces deadly calamity once more, they finally learn the truth about Kyle’s sacrifices and desperately beg him to return.

The end of the world was upon us, but there weren't enough spots for evacuation. The roars of the zombies echoed in my ears as my fiancé, Oliver, gritted his teeth and pulled me onto the rescue vehicle—securing the last available seat. I arrived safely at the survivor base. Lina, his first love, did not. The zombies tore her apart. Oliver still went through with our marriage, but I never expected that he had only done so to make me suffer. In his eyes, I was the one who had killed Lina. If she had to endure such agony, then I should, too. For five years, he hated me. My life was worse than that of a stray dog scavenging for food on the street. On the day my divorce was finalized, he kidnapped me, dragged me into the wilderness, and wrapped his fingers around my throat. Then, he threw us both into the swarm of the undead. When I opened my eyes again, I was somehow reborn on the day the apocalypse began. The rescue team was shouting impatiently, "One more! We have room for one more—hurry!" I turned to Oliver, watching his hesitation. Then, with a quiet smile, I took a step back and let someone else have the last seat.

The end of the world was upon us, but there weren't enough spots for evacuation. The roars of the zombies echoed in my ears as my fiancé, Oliver, gritted his teeth and pulled me onto the rescue vehicle—securing the last available seat. I arrived safely at the survivor base. Lina, his first love, did not. The zombies tore her apart. Oliver still went through with our marriage, but I never expected that he had only done so to make me suffer. In his eyes, I was the one who had killed Lina. If she had to endure such agony, then I should, too. For five years, he hated me. My life was worse than that of a stray dog scavenging for food on the street. On the day my divorce was finalized, he kidnapped me, dragged me into the wilderness, and wrapped his fingers around my throat. Then, he threw us both into the swarm of the undead. When I opened my eyes again, I was somehow reborn on the day the apocalypse began. The rescue team was shouting impatiently, "One more! We have room for one more—hurry!" I turned to Oliver, watching his hesitation. Then, with a quiet smile, I took a step back and let someone else have the last seat.

I died on the day I was supposed to receive the Pack’s Distinguished Service Award. Three hours after I died, my parents, my brother, and my mate were just wrapping up the graduation party they’d thrown for my sister. While my sister, Ella, was posting a cozy family photo on Instagram, I was locked in our basement, using my tongue to swipe on my phone and call for help. The only person who answered was my mate, Ryan. All he said was, "Sophie, cut the drama. Ella's graduation party is important. Enough with the tantrums!" This was the ninety-ninth time they had let me down. And the last. I lay in a pool of my own blood, my lungs still. They thought I was just throwing a fit, hiding somewhere. That if they taught me a lesson, I’d come crawling back. But they didn't know. I was home the whole time. I was already dead.

I died on the day I was supposed to receive the Pack’s Distinguished Service Award. Three hours after I died, my parents, my brother, and my mate were just wrapping up the graduation party they’d thrown for my sister. While my sister, Ella, was posting a cozy family photo on Instagram, I was locked in our basement, using my tongue to swipe on my phone and call for help. The only person who answered was my mate, Ryan. All he said was, "Sophie, cut the drama. Ella's graduation party is important. Enough with the tantrums!" This was the ninety-ninth time they had let me down. And the last. I lay in a pool of my own blood, my lungs still. They thought I was just throwing a fit, hiding somewhere. That if they taught me a lesson, I’d come crawling back. But they didn't know. I was home the whole time. I was already dead.

Cast out by his own family as useless, Justin Lowe opens a supermarket in the apocalypse and staffs it entirely with S-rank anomalies. His monsters clock in, follow orders, and keep the shelves stocked while human survivors trade hexcoins for goods that shouldn't exist: prehistoric snacks, high-tech weapons, supplies from no known supply chain. Each transaction upgrades the store. Each upgrade unlocks something stranger. The anomalies are terrifying everywhere except inside Justin's shop, where they are, inexplicably, perfectly obedient. Dragged repeatedly into the power struggles and crises of the survivor world, he navigates each one with wit and nerve rather than force. In the end, it isn't a weapon or an army that defeats the cosmic evil bearing down on what's left of humanity. It's a commercial contract, and the man who signs it becomes the world's last savior.