Apocalypse Rebirth: Making Billions With My Fortune-Telling Skill

​Xavier took a deep, shuddering breath, his shoulders dropping slightly as he let go of his pristine composure.

​”I built Reed Industries from scratch,” he began, his voice tight, vibrating with a heavy, suppressed emotion. ”This entire empire... It is sort of like my world. Just... knowing it will end in a few weeks, knowing that it will all be reduced to nothing but flames and ash... knowing all the efforts I bled into it will be for naught... it just makes me... sad.”

​He paused, exhaling a ragged breath as he stared blankly at the dark window.

​”Now, I know it might be shameful for a man in my position to admit this, but yes. I can’t deny it because it troubles me so much.” He continued. ”It makes me sad to the point where I just want to smash everything in sight. I’m questioning my entire life, wondering... what was the point of all my effort? Why did I work so hard in the first place if it was all going to end like this? I just... I’m lost, Miss April. And I don’t know what to do.” His voice slightly broke at the end.

​April watched him closely. In the dim light of the lamp, she could subtly see his eyes glistening, turning wet as he desperately held back the physical weight of his grief.

For a man who ruled the city’s economy with an iron fist, showing this kind of raw, broken sorrow was incredibly high-risk, but he was completely out of options. He had done so much, built so much, celebrated big wins and worked even harder thereafter because he couldn’t afford to be complacent. He couldn’t afford to be content, because he had a goal. He had a dream. He was planning to make a legacy for his future generations.

But it wasn’t possible anymore. He found out that, though it wasn’t him, it was this world that was built on a foundation of sticks and stones.

And now... He was mourning the death of his entire life’s work before the sticks and stones collapsed.

​April had never owned an empire, and she didn’t fully understand what it felt like to lose a legacy built from nothing. But as she looked at the silent tears threatening to spill over his dark lashes, she could deeply understand the crushing disappointment and grief he was experiencing.

It was the same hollow, lost feeling she had carried in her past life. She may not fully understand his, but she felt close to it.

​”If it makes you feel any better,” April whispered, her voice softening into a rare, gentle resonance, ”you can cry. I won’t judge you.”

​Xavier was taken aback for a second. His body locked into a rigid, defensive posture as his natural corporate instincts desperately tried to deny the vulnerability.

He opened his mouth, likely to offer a smooth, deflective denial, but the words died in his throat. He bit his lower lip as he turned his face away, refusing to give in to the urge.

He was a man who never wore his heart on his sleeve. And yet... And yet...

​The dam had already cracked. The sheer, suffocating weight of his grief was simply too much to handle anymore. It was raw pain—the death of his identity, his hard work, and the future he had built.

​Before he could pull himself away, April stood up smoothly from the armchair and took a step into his space.

She didn’t offer a dramatic speech or an abstract metaphor. She simply leaned down, wrapping her arms around his neck and offered her shoulder, a steady anchor in the dim room.

Seeing this, ​Xavier no longer hesitated. He dropped his head against her shoulder, his broad chest violently heaving as the tears finally spilled over his dark lashes.

The pristine, untouchable tycoon completely vanished, replaced by a man mourning the end of his world. He clutched at the fabric of her blazer, his breathing ragged as he let out the heavy, quiet fluid of his sorrow.

​”I’m sorry,” Xavier choked out, his deep voice muffled against her clothing, trembling with profound shame. ”I apologize... for showing this side of myself to you. It is entirely unprofessional.”

​April didn’t pull away. She raised her hand and gently patted his stiff, trembling shoulder in a slow, rhythmic pattern, letting her own calm vitality ground his panic.

​”It’s alright, Mr. Reed,” she whispered, her tone completely devoid of judgment. ”It’s entirely alright.”

​She held the space for him, letting him bleed out the disappointment of his legacy until his breathing finally began to stabilize.

Xavier remained there for several long minutes, his heavy breaths gradually evening out against her shoulder.

The frantic, desperate rhythm of his chest slowed down, grounding itself against her quiet, unmoving presence. For the first time since she had delivered the catastrophic news of the apocalypse, the stiff, suffocating tension draining his posture finally dissolved.

​Slowly, Xavier pulled back. He straightened his spine, his broad shoulders settling back into their natural alignment.

His face was still damp, his dark eyes slightly bloodshot, but the chaotic, lost look had eased, replaced by a deep, exhausting clarity.

​He reached up, using the cuff of his shirt to dry his face with a steady hand. ”I... apologize once more, Miss April,” he murmured, his deep voice thick but firmly under control. ”Losing my composure to that degree was a severe operational failure.”

​”It wasn’t a failure, Mr. Reed,” April stated flatly, stepping back to give him his space. ”It was sort of like a system flush. You were keeping too much psychological weight. It would have corrupted your decision-making during the construction phases going forward. You would’ve doubted yourself, hesitated, grieved and then made a mistake you couldn’t take back.” She explained. ”Do not think that only the weak cry. Because it is the strong—the ones who have held on for far too long—who often feel the greatest need to cry.”

It was a phrase someone in her past life in the wastelands had taught her. An insignificant nobody that she couldn’t even remember their face. And yet, the words stuck to her.

It had been two years into the apocalypse, and she was a mess, crying all the time and wishing it would all be over. This was before she met Cai and the rest. She was alone. And yet, this complete nobody gave her a piece of advice. This man...

But then again, she stopped crying after a while so she wondered, was it because she had grown even weaker or she had just gotten used to the bloodbaths and the gore?