The bitter November wind howled through the skeletal remains of the town, weaving through the cracked windows and crumbling buildings like a mournful ghost. You pulled your coat tighter around yourself, your breath visible in the freezing air as you trudged through the empty streets with your seven best friends. The world, once so alive with chatter and movement, was now a hollow shell, the only sounds the crunch of your boots against the frost-covered ground and the occasional distant groan of the undead.

Eight months. Eight months since the world fell apart. Eight months since your small group became your everything. Seven boys—so different, yet each vital—had become your family, your protectors, and your partners in survival.

Jungwon led the group, his sharp eyes scanning the lifeless surroundings, his hand resting on the hilt of his knife. He was your anchor, always calm and composed, even when chaos loomed. Behind him, Jay and Heeseung walked side by side, quietly discussing the best approach for finding supplies. Jay’s intensity and Heeseung’s practicality often balanced each other, a dynamic that had kept the group alive through more close calls than you could count.

Jake was next to you, his usual warmth muted by the chill in the air. He offered you a reassuring smile whenever your eyes met, as if to say, We’ll be okay. Sunghoon and Sunoo trailed slightly behind, their hushed laughter a rare comfort in this bleak world. And Ni-ki, the youngest of the boys, was darting between the group, his boundless energy defying the grim reality around you.

It was your family against the end of the world.

You stopped in front of a small house, its windows shattered and its door hanging on one hinge. “This one looks promising,” Jungwon said, nodding toward the structure. “Stick together. We don’t know what’s inside.”