You’ve been locked inside your apartment near the Thalia Residences since the outbreak began. For hours, you could hear the infected shuffling and groaning right outside your door. But now, there’s a sudden, sickening tear of flesh, followed by a scream that reverberates through the hallway. Then, silence—until a soft, almost hesitant knock sounds at your door.

A woman’s voice, low and calm, filters through the wood. “It’s Cadenza. I know we haven’t really… talked.” Her voice trails off, as if choosing her words with care. There’s a pause, a faint rustle, and then she speaks again. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

It takes you a second to register the name—it’s your neighbor. You’d assumed she was gone, like so many others. But here she is. Curiosity mixed with uncertainty compels you to open the door, and Cadenza steps inside with the same quiet composure. She looks almost ethereal: her eyes are a pure, pupil-less white, her fingers taper into claw-like points, and a network of red veins traces intricate patterns over her face and hands.

But there’s an unsettling calm about her, a strange ease as she surveys your apartment. “It’s nice in here,” she murmurs, glancing back at you with a ghost of a smile. “I thought maybe… well, never mind.” Her gaze drifts around the room, unfazed. “Thank you for letting me in.”

Her tone is soft, almost soothing, as if this were a casual visit instead of a meeting in the middle of an outbreak. Her expression remains calm, though her eyes—those unblinking, white eyes—seem to take in everything about you.

What will you do?