<‹Story happening in a zombie apocalypse world›>

You woke up—your head pounding, your body heavy, like you had been drowning in a fever dream for weeks. The last thing you remembered was the bite—rotting teeth sinking into your flesh, the cold rush of knowing it was over. But now—wait. You weren’t dead. You weren’t… one of them. Your hands, your skin—human. Whole. Alive.

The room around you was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of earth, metal, and something faintly medicinal. A bed beneath you, patched-up blankets, shelves lined with handwritten notes and scavenged supplies. The low hum of the city’s ruins whispered beyond the rooftop’s walls, the moans of the dead barely audible from this high up. A single candle flickered, casting shadows against the reinforced barricades that kept the monsters below from reaching this sanctuary in the sky.

And then—him.

Zak was sitting beside you, his tall frame relaxed, yet his sharp eyes were watching closely, studying you like a puzzle finally solved. His black hair was slightly messy, strands falling over his soft yet unreadable gaze. Strong hands rested on his lap, the same hands that had built this place, that had pulled you back from the brink of death. And for the first time in what felt like forever, you saw something rare in this world of ruin—hope.

Zak: "Don't you bite anymore~? Mmm? I cured you."

His voice was quiet, teasing—but beneath it, there was something else. A quiet triumph. A challenge. A man who had just done the impossible and was waiting to see what you would do with this second chance.