"Lady Amelie..!!" Marcel muttered, noticing Amelie peeking from the basement door just as Jang left with his dwindling army of the dead. His crushed and injured arm was barely a hindrance as he limped toward her.
"Marcel...!" she cried, limping as well, her face contorted with relief.
"Lady Amelie!!" Marcel repeated, quickening his pace when he saw her stumble. Without a second thought, he caught her just before she hit the ground, using his mangled arm.
"Marcel..." Amelie whispered, her gaze dropping to his arm as her fingers gently brushed against the sleeve. "Your arm...! Why would you catch me with it in that condition..!!?" she exclaimed, trying to lift herself off him.
But Marcel's other arm stopped her. He knelt, keeping her steady. "My lady..." he called softly, his smile hidden beneath his wide, gray mustache. "It's just a bruise. Holding you is no burden at all." He spoke warmly, despite the obvious swelling beneath his sleeve, where the broken bones strained against his skin after Jang had crushed them.
Amelie bit her lip, feeling the unnatural bumps in his arm, but she stayed silent, her eyes locking with his composed expression. Silently, she tried to ease the weight on him, not wanting to burden him further.
Jiho stood motionless, watching them. His gaze was empty, yet his mind stirred as he observed the tenderness in Marcel's movements—the way he held Amelie with care, despite his own agony. Jiho didn't need to understand their words; it was obvious what Marcel was doing—hiding his pain for Amelie's sake.
'He says he's just her butler... But if I didn't know better, I'd think he was her father.' Jiho thought as he watched Marcel force a smile to comfort Amelie, kissing her forehead with the gentleness of a parent.
Jiho stood there, a strange ache filling his chest as he realized how long it had been since someone had treated him that way. His mind wandered back, and as if on cue, a memory surfaced...
---------------------------
"I'm sorry, Ji-yeon. Like I said, just take him to adoption. Do that, and I'll stay." Minsoo said as he turned his back, his tone detached, causing her to flinch.
"You and I both know... he's too far gone. We've seen the signs for a while now. You know it, yet you still pretend there's something left to save." His voice was cold, already halfway out the door.
Ji-yeon's eyes flicked between Minsoo and the boy—her boy. She swallowed hard, her gaze shifting to the bloodied hammer in Jiho's tiny hand, the body of the beaten dog lying still beneath him. Her stomach churned in disgust and fear, an instinctive revulsion rising up from her core.
But then her eyes met Jiho's—innocent, confused. A child's face, with no understanding of the horror he had just caused. Her heart wavered. He's still my son, she told herself. He's still my boy.
"He... he just doesn't know any better!" she pleaded, turning to Minsoo, desperate. "He's our child... we have to show him what's right and wrong! Please... I can't do this without you...!" Her voice broke as she swallowed her tears.
Minsoo didn't even glance back. "I'm sorry, Ji-yeon. I can't. But I'll wait for you. So, until then... goodbye." The door clicked shut behind him, leaving her alone—alone with the thing that had taken over her child.
"Mommy?" Jiho's soft voice broke through her panic, pulling her violently back into the present.
Ji-yeon froze. Slowly, painfully, she turned to face him. Her heart hammered in her chest as she knelt down, wiping the blood from his small fingers with trembling hands. She wanted to run. Everything in her screamed to run—to get away from this demon standing before her in the guise of her son.
But she couldn't. Not when he looked at her with those innocent eyes.
"Why did Daddy leave?" Jiho asked, his voice small, almost angelic. Almost... human.
Ji-yeon clenched her fists and then released them, forcing a trembling smile as she knelt beside him. "Jiho, sweetie... Daddy left because... well, sometimes grown-ups don't know how to help," she said, her voice shaking as she fought to control the panic inside. "But Mommy's here. Mommy's going to help you, okay?"
Jiho blinked, tilting his head in confusion. "But... I don't need help," he said softly, his words driving a spike of terror through her heart, her instincts once again screaming at her to run from the monster she was trying so hard not to see.
"Mommy," Jiho called again, his small voice drawing her attention back. "Why is Pooch making that noise?"
Ji-yeon swallowed hard, her gaze shifting to the bloodied, whimpering dog at Jiho's feet. The sound of its weak cries echoed in the room, a chilling reminder of what had just happened. She turned back to Jiho, trying to keep her voice steady, her heart aching. "Pooch is hurt, Jiho. He's in pain."
"Pain?" Jiho furrowed his brow, his fingers tightening around the hammer. "But... it was fun hitting him."
His words struck her like a blow. The weight of her failure crashed down on her, bruising her already fragile spirit. Min-soo was right, a dark thought whispered in her mind. What if he's truly lost? But she couldn't give in to that fear, not yet. Forcing herself to remain calm, she spoke softly, "I... I know it might've felt fun, but hitting Pooch made him sad. It... it made me sad too, Jiho."
[BACKGROUND MUSIC: DEAN'S THEME (SUPERNATURAL)]
Jiho's eyes widened. "Sad? You're sad, Mommy?"
Ji-yeon nodded, brushing back a stray lock of his hair, her touch gentle. "Yes, sweetie. When you hurt Pooch, it makes me sad because I know Pooch is hurting. Just like when something bad happens to you, and you feel hurt."
Jiho frowned, his small face scrunched in confusion. "But... he's just a dog."
Ji-yeon let out a slow, measured breath, relieved by the faint glimmer of understanding in Jiho's eyes, a glimmer of hope she so desperately needed. "Remember when you stepped on your toy and it hurt your foot?" she asked, leaning closer, her voice gentle but firm. "That feeling you had when it hurt really bad... that's what Pooch feels right now."
Jiho blinked, this time more slowly, as if processing her words. "So... Pooch feels ouch?"
"Yes, exactly," Ji-yeon replied softly, nodding. "And when Pooch feels ouch, it makes Mommy feel ouch too. Do you want Mommy to feel ouch?"
Jiho shook his head, his bottom lip trembling slightly. "No... I don't want you to feel ouch, Mommy."
Ji-yeon offered him a sad, tender smile as she rested her hand gently on his tiny shoulder, "Then we have to be kind to Pooch. We don't hurt things that are alive, okay? We take care of them... because if we don't, it will make me sad. Can you remember that for me?"
Jiho looked down at the hammer in his hand, his small fingers slowly loosening their grip. "Okay, Mommy. I'm sorry... I didn't mean to make you sad."
With a quiet sigh, Ji-yeon gently pried the hammer from his loose fingers and pulled him close, hugging him tightly. "I know, baby. I know you didn't mean it. But we have to try to be gentle, alright? Hurting others, even if it feels fun, isn't right. Can you try to remember that?"
Jiho nodded against her chest, his small arms wrapping around her as he clung tightly. "O... Okay, Mommy. I... I will never make you sad again..."
Ji-yeon kissed the top of his head, tears slipping down her cheeks in silence. "That's all I need, Jiho. We'll figure this out together. Just you and me."
"Okay?"
--------------
"Monsieur?" Marcel's voice broke through the haze, his tone calm as he carried Amelie up the stairs, with Jiho walking beside them.
"Yeah?" Jiho replied, turning his eyes toward him. "Was just lost in thought."
Marcel paused, swallowing as he searched for the right words. "Why... just why would you come back for someone like me?" Marcel asked heavily, his breath strained as he continued up the stairs with his injured arm.
Marcel frowned slightly. "You had every reason to leave, Monsieur... So... why?"
'More often than not... I've abandoned all my morals for the sake of duty, often out of caution,' Marcel thought, swallowing hard as his brows furrowed. 'I've killed people who may not have deserved it. If I were in his shoes, I wouldn't have just left—I'd have made sure I was dead. Why would this young man do this for me? For someone who barely knew him for an hour and even tried to kill him?'
"Because..." Jiho said as he looked down, his expression somber, "my mom... she would've been sad if I did that."
Marcel's eyes widened as he recalled Jiho's words when he agreed to help them back when they met at the 9th floor. A tidal wave of guilt washed over him as he looked at the stoic, yet sad-looking Jiho.
"Me?" Jiho added, raising his gaze to Marcel with a soft smile. "I'm not a good person. Not even close... If it weren't for her, I'd probably be a low-life criminal or dead in a ditch somewhere. But... she gave up everything just to stay and help me. No matter how much she struggled, how much pain she was in from protecting me, she never stopped. And... I just thought... that's what you must've done for this girl when you pushed me to the horde," he said firmly, his voice raspy and exhausted as he locked eyes with Marcel, recalling the pain Marcel had hidden while holding Amelie up in the basement.
'How... noble...!' Marcel thought, meeting Jiho's gaze.
"I guess... it's like... I could feel she was with me when I came for you," Jiho said, his lips pressing together slightly. "And I won't lie..." A solitary tear slipped down his cheek. "I... I just miss her," he whispered, hurriedly wiping the tear away.
Amelie's gaze never left Jiho as he quietly wept, his words flowing in a language she couldn't grasp. Every syllable, every pause, felt like it carried the weight of the world. She bit her lip in frustration, her fingers curling into the fabric of Marcel's dirtied tuxedo. What was he saying? Why was he crying? The answers were just out of reach, and the barrier of language felt more unbearable than ever. She wished, more than anything, to understand... Why is this handsome boy so sad. Was he speaking about his mother, maybe? Like he did back on the 9th floor?
'To think... I tried to kill someone as pure as he is,' Marcel thought, glancing at Amelie. He recalled her earlier observation of Jiho, how she mentioned he seemed like a hurt boy rather than a dangerous fighter. 'My... Lady Amelie, I have been gravely mistaken. You have a very keen eye for people! Oh, how much you've grown.' He watched her proudly as she shifted her gaze to him, tilting her head in confusion.
"How are your legs?" Jiho asked, looking down at Marcel.
"They're fine... The only real issue is this arm and shoulder," Marcel replied.
"Then..." Jiho took a deep breath. "Let me carry her. At least until we get to the edge of the quarantine zone," he offered, glancing at Amelie.
Marcel sighed, glancing over Jiho's battered form. "I cannot do that, Monsieur. You're injured too. You took that explosion point-blank. This?" Marcel motioned to his own arm, still swollen and bruised. "I was several meters away, and look at the state of me... I can't imagine how you feel with all those lacerations and punctures. It's a miracle you aren't bleeding more."
'Right...' Jiho thought, looking down at his own body. 'I got the brunt of the explosion... and I'm what the system called a "Sentient Zombie,"' he recalled, glancing at Amelie as she silently examined her own wounds and bruises. 'Oddly enough though - I don't feel too bad at all, but...'
'... Maybe it's best if my blood doesn't accidentally get on hers,' Jiho thought, letting out a soft sigh.
"Alright," Jiho finally said, his tone decisive. "Then, I'll at least keep you safe until we reach the quarantine zone's edge. I consider myself at least in a better condition than you two,"
"You have my deepest gratitude, Monsieur Jiho," Marcel replied, his voice carrying a sudden weight. "But... this leads me to another question. What exactly are you? How are you still... human, despite getting scratched by that hellspawn earlier? And how did you survive the explosion and the horde I... Shoved you into?" His gaze intensified, locking onto Jiho.
"... I'm not sure," Jiho muttered, looking forward. "It sounds like something out of a comic book, but I was bitten two days ago. I fainted after a headache... and woke up like this." He shrugged, deciding to withhold details about the message prompts and other oddities.
"I... I see. How peculiar," Marcel murmured, his gaze dropping. Amelie, meanwhile, watched the exchange in silence, frustrated at not being able to understand their conversation.
Dawn was breaking by the time they reached the outside of the building. They came across an abandoned car, and despite his broken limb, Marcel quickly and skillfully hotwired it. They both climbed inside after helping Amelie into the front seat, and as Marcel positioned himself behind the wheel, Jiho began to protest, pointing out he could drive. However, Marcel shot him a stern look.
"You don't even have a license yet, Monsieur." Marcel insisted, his tone firm despite the exhaustion in his voice. "As the adult, only I am allowed to drive," He finished with a smile.
Jiho huffed in response, a small pout tugging at his lips. Reluctantly, he gave in, crossing his arms. "Fine, fine," he muttered.
'Really... A hardened war veteran?' Marcel thought in amusement as he watched Jiho walk to the backseat, opening the door and entering the car. 'What was I thinking?'
'He's just a boy,' Marcel reflected, a touch of soft pity in his heart. His gaze flickered to Amelie, resting peacefully. 'I must find a way to befriend him with my lady. She could use a friend who speaks at her level.'
With that settled, they drove off toward the edge of the quarantine zone.
"Stop here," Jiho instructed, just before the car reached the security checkpoint. Marcel obeyed, pulling over just before the checkpoint came into view, its perimeter surrounded by thousands of corpses and a heavy gate manned by guards and spotlights. He glanced at Jiho, Amelie now fast asleep beside him.
"Monsieur?" Marcel asked, unsure.
"I'll get off here. You get out of here," Jiho said calmly, gently opening the car door. He glanced at Amelie, careful not to wake her.
"I... I don't follow. Why? Is it because of your... situation?" Marcel asked, concern lacing his tone.
"Yeah, that, and..." Jiho murmured as he looked toward the quarantine zone, standing outside the car now. "I need to go to my mom's workplace... I need to find out if she's still alive." His voice tightened, his breath catching. "And if she's still stuck in this hellhole."
Marcel's gaze softened, understanding the weight of Jiho's words. "At least keep the car with you. We likely won't need it."
"No, you have a broken arm, and it's still a bit far for you to walk with that ankle of hers in the open. Keep it. I'll find another car and hotwire it like you showed me," Jiho said, offering a tired smile.
"...Then," Marcel said, settling back into the driver's seat, "Tell me your last name. I'll keep an eye out for your family outside of this place."
"It's An. Jiho An," Jiho replied as he waved Marcel off, walking into the city.
"Marcel..." Amelie called softly, her voice raspy as her eyes remained closed.
"Yes, my lady?" Marcel asked, turning his focus to her while driving toward the checkpoint.
"Teach me Korean..." she murmured with a faint pout, concealing her expression with her arm. "I hate that I... couldn't understand what he was saying..."
"I... at least... wanted to hear it from him... Why he's leaving... why he saved us..." she trailed off, her frustration and curiosity palpable.
Marcel smiled gently. "Then, my lady," he said as they neared the checkpoint, "we'll need to find the one who made it all possible—the one who made him possible."
"...Alright. Let's find her," Amelie muttered with a small smile, her voice laced with determination.
As they drew closer, Marcel's grip on the steering wheel tightened. The distant floodlights now engulfed the car in a harsh, blinding glow, casting eerie shadows over the sea of corpses lining the road. The air around them was thick with tension, the silence pressing in like a coiled spring, ready to snap.
Before Marcel could speak again, a booming voice broke through the night, echoing over the loudspeakers: "FREEZE!! STOP THE CAR!!"
Marcel calmly complied, slowing the vehicle to a stop. "Worry not, my lady," he reassured her, noticing how Amelie jumped at the voice, her eyes wide, sweat beginning to bead on her forehead.
Within moments, over a dozen guards surrounded the car, their weapons trained on them. Amidst the chaos, Marcel remained composed, and soon enough, both he and Amelie were safely extracted from the quarantine zone.
------- A BIT LATER AS JIHO APPROACHED HIS MOTHER'S WORKPLACE ------------
Jiho walked along the road, stumbling across a few zombies. With swift, efficient movements, he dispatched them using the knives he'd taken from the building.
'It's... getting easier,' he thought, glancing down at his bloodied hands while continuing forward.
Raising his gaze, he sighed. 'This is going to take a while...'
"Huh...?" Jiho muttered as a car screeched to a stop nearby, the window already rolled down.
"Hey, dog-beater twink! What the FUCK are you still doing here?! This whole city is my turf!" Jang snarled, his three remaining zombies crammed into the car with him, obediently sitting upright, as if they were humans merely dressed as zombies.
"...." Jiho blinked, his eyes narrowing as he took in the sight of Jang. He was still radiating the same intensity and hostility as before, but something about the scene felt... off. His frown deepened.
'Is this guy... for real?' Jiho thought, his gaze shifting to the docile zombies beside Jang, sitting like a pack of tamed lions. And for just a fleeting moment, a very swift and fleeting moment, Jiho imagined Jang leading a traveling circus....
.... And let out a chuckle at the sight.
"THE FUCK'RE YOU LAUGHING AT, YOU FUCKING TWINK BITCH!!?" Jang screamed from the car, a vein apparent on his forehead.
[IMAGE]
[No AI was used making this art little art this time it's purely me and my spooderman ahhh drawing skills]