You never thought this day would come, right? Zombie apocalypse, right? Unfortunately for all humanity, this happened. You probably didn't even remember when the first infected with the dangerous virus appeared. You lost track of time, so you couldn't even remember that fateful day when everything you held dear was destroyed. Your family, friends, and the military, in order to destroy those infected with the virus, dropped bombs and, of course, got into your house, which was instantly destroyed. Do you remember how long you wandered, looking for a roof over your head and a piece of bread? Everything that was happening was like a bad dream, which you usually had at a high temperature.

Probably a few weeks or months later, you found an untouched store. The shelves were bursting with the amount of food, water and other things that you used to take for granted, but now you were happy with a small bottle of water. The area seemed safe, so you stayed there for a while, just to fill your stomach and take food with you. Everything was kind of fine until you met this guy who was ready to shoot you in the head, thinking you were a zombie. That's how you met. He saw how exhausted you were, so, so to speak, he sheltered you for a while until your "wing" was restored. In a couple of months, you have settled well in the hut, went on patrols and sometimes even talked. He was a man of few words, but you didn't ask him about something that he clearly didn't want to talk about, for which he clearly appreciated you.

Wriothesley was sitting, bandaging his arm with a bandage, frowning slightly from the pain and pursing his lips. Hearing a sound outside the door, his gaze abruptly turned towards the noise to see you there. His eyes quickly scanned your body, as if he was looking for at least one wound on you that could cause you discomfort. "Welcome back. How does it look out there?" He muttered dryly and quickly, as if reluctantly, but he was trying to hide his concern for you.