Chapter 5
I slumped down beside him, the silence growing heavier between us.
"Has there been any strange happenings?" I asked, breaking it at last.
He glanced at me, only briefly, then turned back to the screen as if my eyes were a danger he couldn't risk.
Without a word, he exited the game and opened a webpage. The title struck me like a slap:
*"The day we dreaded is upon us. We used to fight for love and peace, but now we fight to survive. This disease—*_Veevee_*—is the curse we've brought upon ourselves. We only have one choice: survive."*
Below the warning, a list followed.
*Symptoms of Turning:*
- Hallucinations
- Rapid Regeneration of minor wounds
- Emotional Instability
- Nosebleeds
- Sudden spikes in aggression
- Insomnia
- Loss of appetite
- Heightened senses
- Tremors in the limbs
Before I could fully process it, the page glitched—then froze with the dreaded words:
*No Internet Connection.*
I groaned and dragged a hand over my face. "Of course. Classic apocalypse."
He turned off the computer and the looked at me. He didn't say a word, but his eyes said plenty.
*Now what?*
"We need to find a base. I'm sure the apocalypse hasn't fully begun. We still have time," I said, trying my absolute best to sound brave—even though my heart was tap-dancing its way into a panic attack.
"You and me?" he asked softly.
I nodded. His face didn't change much, but I could swear he thought I'd lost it.
"We need a foolproof plan," I added, running a shaky hand through my hair.
*What the hell was I doing?*
My brain was still doing backflips, and yet here I was, pretending to be the apocalypse strategist—me, of all people.
*What if he believed me? What if I let him down… like I always do?*
I dropped my head on the table. My vision blurred, and a dangerous thought crept in:
*What if I was infected with that damned virus?*
My stomach dropped. Blood coughed up from my throat. My ears rang. My heartbeat thundered like a war drum.
My chest tightened as panic and dread swirled through me. Life had been cruel, but I wasn't ready to die. Not yet.
A bright white light shimmered far away. My instincts told me to reach for it, but it was too far.
Instead, my hand latched onto something warm.
I thought I heard my name.
Or maybe it was just another hallucination.
Either way, I felt like death had come to claim me. Then something appeared before me—it was me… and yet, not me.
A distorted version. Familiar, but wrong.
I needed to return to reality.
I remembered the pen on the desk. My trembling fingers reached for it, and I stabbed my arm. Blood seeped out—warm, real—but it didn't bring me back.
I raised the pen again, desperation bubbling in my chest, but a hand grabbed mine.
Tears streamed down my cheeks. The pain was unbearable—physical, mental, soul-deep.
And then I saw her.
Blurry at first… but definitely a woman.
"Han Yoon-ah."
The voice was soothing—too soothing. Soft, ghostly... and terrifying.
"Han Yoon-ah," it called again, echoing like a memory I never wanted. I knew then—I was infected. The virus had gotten to me. I was becoming one of them. Like the movies, but worse—because this time, it was real.
I'd hoped it was all just a nightmare. But now I knew: hope... hope... hope was just a cruel joke.
I had lived in fear all my life, constantly bracing for the end. But now that it was actually happening... what was the point?
Zombies, monsters, humans—we all die eventually.
Still... I couldn't give up. Not yet.
I had to live. I had to survive—not just for myself, but for those who still had a fighting chance. For Seong-ryeong. I hadn't even thanked him.
And I'm stronger than he is. I know I am.
So—wake up, Yoon-ah.
My eyes snapped open. My head was pounding like a bass drum, but I was alive. I was still me.
"Are you okay? You seem a little... sick?" he asked, his voice soft as he handed me a tissue.
"I need to leave," I rasped. My throat felt like sandpaper, and every breath burned, but I was determined. I couldn't risk it—not when I knew what was coming. Eventually, I'd start craving something more... human. It was only a matter of time.
"You're scared, aren't you?" he said, his gaze locking with mine like he was trying to read the fine print of my soul.
No, I wasn't scared. I was *terrified*.
"I've had symptoms too," he added, way too calmly. "Just a nosebleed, though."
Oh, well. Just a nosebleed. Might as well throw a party.
"I'll be a zombie or monster soon. So..." —he tilted his head, voice light— "we should stick together, shouldn't we?"
It was the longest thing he'd ever said to me. And somehow, it made my heart sink and flutter at the same time.