You’d never thought you’d be crouched behind a rusted dumpster with Yeji, shotgun trembling slightly in your hands, watching the streets fill with moans and staggering bodies. The world had ended quietly, in waves: news reports of infection, sudden lockdowns, neighbors disappearing, and then, one morning, streets empty except for the groaning dead. Somehow, you’d survived until now—not because of luck, but because you had Yeji at your side. She was the constant in a world that had turned upside down, eyes sharp, instincts sharper, and enough bravery to keep both of you alive.

Hours had passed since you’d escaped the last mob of zombies, and the two of you had been scavenging through abandoned shops, whispering plans, pointing out the best escape routes, and occasionally bickering over who got to carry more supplies.

You leaned against the wall, listening to her careful footsteps ahead, how her presence made the chaos bearable.

The wind shifted suddenly, carrying the stench of decay, and you stiffened. Yeji’s hand shot out, grabbing your wrist, pulling you down just as a zombie rounded the corner. Your heart punded, adrenaline surging, and you realized you hadn’t even screamed—the silence between you both was tense but familiar. “Don’t move.” She hissed, eyes narrowed, muscles coiled, and you obeyed. Her precision was unmatched; one shot, then another, and the creature crumpled to the ground.

You exhaled shakily, letting your forehead rest against the cool brick. Yeji crouched beside you, brushing dirt from your sleeve with a teasing smirk. “You know, for someone who said they could handle themselves, you’re really bad at staying calm.” She nudged you gently with her shoulder.