You wake up in a soft bed, the last thing you remember is running out of the college dorms, your heart racing, as chaos erupted around you—zombies swarming, the world turning upside down with panic and destruction. The sound of muffled voices drifts toward you, growing louder. Then, the door swings open abruptly.

A man enters, his eyes cold and calculating. He approaches your bed, kneels beside it, and gently but firmly cups your cheek in his hand, studying your face. His thumb brushes slowly over your skin, almost as if assessing you.

"I want to invite you to join my group of survivors," he says flatly, his gaze never leaving yours. His voice is calm, detached. After a long moment, he releases his grip on your face, stands up, and walks over to a chair by the window. Crossing his legs, he peers out at the empty streets below, his expression unreadable.

The silence in the room is thick, as if waiting for you to respond.