Tilus sat frozen, the soft hum of his phone echoing in the dead air of the room. Emergency alerts were flooding the screen, but he barely registered the words as he stared out the window. His mind was trapped in a fog of disbelief.
[ALERT: UNKNOWN OUTBREAK. STAY INDOORS.]
He watched, detached, as chaos unfolded below. Cars plowed into lamp posts, their drivers frantic. People ran, their bodies twisted unnaturally. Some fell, face-down, their limbs rigid, eyes vacant, as if life had drained from them. Others convulsed in spasms, their forms shifting grotesquely into something unnatural.
Stay inside...
X's words echoed like a mantra in his head. He had made the right choice. He was safe. He was prepared. The supplies, the plan—he could survive this, couldn't he?
Then came the tap on his shoulder.
Tilus flinched, spinning around. William stood there, his eyes hard, unwavering.
"We need to go," William's voice cut through the tension.
Tilus blinked, confused, trying to process. "What?"
"Ben. Jasmine. Leon. They're out there. You see it too, right?"
The screen on his phone buzzed again, flashing the map of the chaos. The coordinates. Their faces.
The names of his friends. He froze, the weight of the words crashing over him. His heart raced.
[New Sub Stage: Rescue your friends]
Type: Sub
Difficulty: F+
Clear Conditions: Helped your friends escape the infected
Time Limit: 1 day
Penalty: None
Target Locations:
Ben (Nguyễn Văn Cừ Bridge) [1.2 km]
Jasmine (Big C mall) [1.5 km]
Leon (FHS BookStore near the church) [0.6 km]
William (Home) [0 km]
[Rewards: ??? Coins]
The logic kicked in first—stay inside, stay safe. It was too risky. He had supplies. He could survive seven days on his own. They'd understand. They had to.
Tilus's jaw tightened, fighting against the pull of the situation. He had to stay alive. There was no other choice. The outbreak was spreading fast, the infected were unpredictable, and there were too many risks out there. If he left, it was over. He knew it.
"No," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. "We don't know if they'd survive even if we head there now. We're no different than easy prey for those things outside. It's a death trap."
William's face was hard. He stepped closer, his gaze unwavering.
"So you're not going?"
The words hung in the air like a challenge. Tilus flinched. Damn it, William was right. The moment he said it, it felt wrong.
"Yes," Tilus muttered, almost to himself. "I'm staying."
William didn't say another word. He just turned away, his steps heavy with disappointment. The silence between them stretched long and thick, suffocating. Tilus's heart was pounding in his chest as the weight of the decision crushed him.But he told himself it was the right choice.He had prepared for this. He had food. Water. He didn't have to be a hero. He could make it. He had to make it.
But even as the thought settled in his mind, a bitter taste rose in his throat. The panic, the fear—it wasn't gone. In fact, it had only grown. Was he really doing the right thing? Or was he just hiding? Tilus turned his gaze to the floor, unable to meet William's eyes.
"Alright." William's voice lost its usual warmth. There was no malice in it—just resignation. Like someone closing the last page of a book they'd hoped would end differently. "Can't force you. Hope you're happy with your decision."
The door clicked shut. That was it. Decision made. He would stay inside, hunker down, ride out the storm. His friends would have to survive without him. It was the only logical choice. Right?
Tilus stood still in the hallway, alone in the same apartment they'd all shared for years. A place once filled with noise, laughter, bickering, late-night ramen complaints and anime marathons that started at 2 AM and ended in regrets.
Now? Just creaking walls and the low hum of silence.
He moved to the living room without thinking. Sat on the old couch—Leon's couch, technically, but they'd all claimed it at some point. The cushions sagged where they always had, the coffee table still bore the ghost of Jasmine's tea stains, and the ceiling fan clicked with that same annoying rhythm they'd never fixed.
Everything looked the same. But it wasn't.
They were all leaving. One by one. Jasmine and William had already packed half their stuff, ready to move out by next month. Ben and Leon said they'd follow before the end of the year. New roommates would come. Strangers. People Tilus would nod at in passing but never truly speak to.
The thought tightened something in his chest. He'd told himself it didn't matter. That people came and went. That bonds were just proximity dressed up in sentiment.
But the memories argued otherwise.
Rain pelted the windows that night. The blackout hit without warning—citywide. Jasmine had cursed the timing, Leon had immediately declared it a government experiment, and Ben used it as an excuse to drag everyone into the living room like he was starting a cult.
William had rolled his eyes said he had to studied just to have Jasmine said he already got 95% on the class, he would not failed even he skip final exam and he won't able to study in the heat without light or the fans anyway. .
The power outage had killed their evening plans—no Wi-Fi, no streaming, no phone charging. Just one half-dead flashlight, bags of instant noodles, and a lighter that only worked if you smacked it against your palm and swore at it first.
They took turns boiling water on a tiny emergency stove that Tilus didn't even remember buying. The noodles came out half-crunchy, half-too-soft, and entirely perfect.
Tilus had stayed curled up in the corner of the couch, phone screen lighting up his face—until Jasmine banned it.
"No tech during blackout bonding time," she'd said, snatching his phone like a strict older sister. "If I have to suffer, so do you."
He'd muttered something about dictatorship, but… didn't really mind.
They took turns boiling water. The noodles were half-cooked, half-mush, and all they had. No one complained.
Someone pulled out a deck of cards—probably Jasmine, since she always carried one around "for emergencies." It quickly devolved into the most chaotic game of bullshit any of them had ever played. Leon cheated, Ben lied badly, William won quietly, and Jasmine hexed them all with fake tarot predictions.
Tilus watched at first, just listening. They were talking about dumb campus drama, party rumors, About dreams they'd half-forgotten and futures they weren't sure about anymore.
Boring stuff.
But... warm.
Someone brought up old anime dubs. Jasmine ranted about how her part-time job was trying to kill her. Leon suggested a new mecha show he swore would "redefine cinema." Ben told a horror story from his delivery job that no one believed.
They laughed too loudly. Drank instant coffee out of mismatched mugs. Jasmine dared Leon to eat a spoonful of raw ramen seasoning. He did it and immediately regretted his choices.
And eventually, Tilus found himself talking, too. Not much. Just a comment here, a dry jab there. But they laughed. They always laughed. Even when what he said wasn't funny—they laughed because it was him saying it.
Then William spoke.
He'd been staring out the window the whole time, watching the rain fall on dark rooftops. And then, without being asked, he started talking about his dad. About how during blackouts like this, he'd make shadow puppets on the walls. Silly animals. Dumb shapes. He didn't even do voices—just shapes, and a quiet voice telling a story no one remembered the next day.
It wasn't dramatic. It wasn't even nostalgic. It was just… honest.
And no one interrupted. Not Leon. Not Ben. Not even Jasmine, who always had something to say. They just listened.
Tilus remembered that—not because the story was great. But because for once, William had let them see something real. And everyone respected it without having to say so.
It wasn't a perfect night.
The noodles were bad. The power stayed out till morning. Someone spilled instant coffee on the carpet. And Tilus had to admit, the floor was more uncomfortable than he'd thought.
That night wasn't some perfect memory polished by nostalgia. It hadn't been about grand emotions or dramatic confessions. It was just a night that mattered—a quiet, accidental pause in the noise of their everyday lives. A moment of connection before everything began to unravel.
Now, standing here in the stillness of the dark, Tilus realized that night was no longer something he could go back to.
It wasn't a memory he was holding onto—it was something already gone.
Like so many things.
But then, his mind wandered again. The image of Leon's, Jasmine's, Ben's. The images of his friends who was once smiling at him now covered in blood
They were out there, fighting, dying, and Tilus was sitting here, safe.
"Damn it, you're an idiot, Tilus."
Before he could stop himself, his hand reached down to grab the heavy metal pipe tucked beneath the stairs. His pulse was racing again, his body moving against his own will. He shoved the phone into his pocket, grabbed the makeshift weapon, and strode out the door.