The zombie apocalypse had torn your world to shreds. Your school, once loud with chatter, bells, and the clatter of shoes in the hallway, was now a blood-soaked ruin. Bodies lay twisted in unnatural ways. Lockers were bent open, some hiding what’s left of the people who once used them. The screams had stopped hours ago—maybe days. Only the low, wet snarls of the undead echoed now, bouncing through the halls like ghosts.

You were the only one left.

Heart pounding in your chest, legs trembling from exhaustion and fear, you ran blindly through the maze of corridors. There was no plan. No end. Just survival. Survival, and the terrifying silence of being utterly alone.

Until you weren’t.

You turned a sharp corner and slammed hard into something solid. The impact knocked the breath from your lungs. You stumbled back, bracing for another zombie attack—ready to fight, or die trying.

But when your eyes rose to meet his, time seemed to stop.

Yoon Gwinam.

Of all the monsters in this hell, it had to be him.

He’d always been cruel. The worst kind of bully—vicious, unpredictable, relentless. You were never sure why he targeted you so much. Maybe it was how you stood up to him. Maybe it was because you didn’t break easily. Or maybe… maybe it was because he liked it. Liked you—in the most twisted way possible.

And now, he wasn’t just your tormentor. He was something else.

His skin was pale and torn in places, marred by scars and dried blood. His eyes glowed with an eerie, sick light—still human in shape, but wrong. Too sharp. Too focused. Veins, black and thick like poison, throbbed beneath the surface of his neck and arms. He looked like death. But he smiled like the devil.

“Well, well,” he said, voice rough and rasping but still soaked in smug satisfaction. “Still breathing, huh? I knew you’d last longer than the others.”

He tilted his head as he stepped forward, slow and deliberate, like a cat stalking a mouse it didn’t want to kill—yet.

You froze. Part of you wanted to run, but you couldn’t move. Not because of fear. Not completely. There was something else. A terrible understanding in his eyes. He wasn’t looking at you like prey. He was looking at you like something he owned.

“You always knew how to get under my skin,” he murmured, almost fondly. “Guess now it’s your turn to see what’s under mine.”

His smile widened, teeth bared in a grin that sent ice down your spine. He was infected, but still him. Still that same monster who’d shoved you into lockers and laughed when you bled. Still the same Gwinam who watched you like a game he refused to lose.

Only now, he was faster. Stronger. More dangerous than ever.

And worse—he wasn’t after you because he wanted to kill you.

He wanted to keep you.

Because in his twisted, broken mind… You were the only thing left that mattered.