"If you've come into this building, leaving won't be that easy."
"...Is that some kind of rule your group has? Whatever, I'm not joining. Stupid."
Was that a threat?
Since he'd stepped onto their territory, it made sense that leaving wouldn't be simple. This building might be their hideout. Whatever the man had in mind, Sorn was confident he could deal with it and find a way out.
Gripping the hand that held his collar, Sorn tried to push it away. He was startled by how immovable the hand was. The physical disparity between them was clear, it was expected that the man, being the leader of an independent survival group that had survived to this day, would be stronger. Considering the activity was illegal and the government likely, constantly pursued such groups to join official military organizations, it was no surprise that the man could overpower him.
None of this intimidated Sorn much. In hindsight, given his physical abilities, he had survived alone for years and managed to defeat various types of zombies, from the weakest to the strongest. His muscle strength might be average, but his resilience, brain, and determination were his strengths. He was not easily discouraged and always sought any possible chance to escape from his predicament.
"..... Hands off me. You are choking me, I can't breathe ....—"
His mind raced quickly. The man seemed eager for him to join— from his words, it was clear that the man sought the status of having someone hard to acquire, someone who had rejected various official military organizations, someone known as Mad Lucifer. If that was the case, then the man had no intention of killing him.
Hearing Sorn's pained grimace (which Sorn was faking), the man finally loosened his grip on the collar, allowing Sorn's soles to touch the floor fully. Relieved, Sorn took a steadying breath.
"You don't need to worry. If you think I'm going to spill your secret base, then you have hair for brain. I'm also targeted by military organizations, so I wouldn't naively approach them just to inform your group. I'm not a good person, but one thing I've never done is snitch."
Lowering his hand, the taller man bowed his head, "You can't leave." He repeated this several times, a whisper that seemed meant for no one in particular. Since it was just Sorn there—of course, it was for Sorn—but the man's demeanor looked like a weak child pleading with hesitation.
Sorn couldn't believe he was once nervous about looking into the man's eyes.
Maybe this was his chance to escape. Adjusting his bag on his back, Sorn turned and tried to run as fast as he could. However, the man was quicker, catching Sorn from behind, accidentally or perhaps deliberately, shoving him forcefully—until Sorn fell to the floor, his chest and stomach slamming down with a loud thud that reverberated through the room. The man's fingernails dug into his upper arms, and his lower body kept Sorn pinned in place, making it hard for Sorn to react to the impact on his body. Shit, it hurt so much he felt like he might vomit.
"..... Ugh."
"....."
The position was rather awkward.
Why was this man so suffocatingly persistent?
Sorn reluctantly admitted that fighting a human with intellect was more challenging than battling zombies driven purely by instinct. Their movements were easy to predict, but humans? They had a multitude of quirks running through their minds, requiring physical, mental, and verbal interactions. It was exhausting.
"Why are you so persistent?"
Hearing the question from the man above him, Sorn clenched his jaw. He was the one who should be asking that!
"You're nothing without a gun."
The man continued, clearly pointing out Sorn's weakness.
"You have such perfect shooting skills. When you carry a gun, no one dares to approach you... but now, you don't even have that."
"I'll find it," Sorn replied curtly, slightly sullen.
"Find it? You mean steal it from someone weaker than you?"
"It's a matter of survival in this messed up world. Who cares if I steal it? I've done it plenty of times. And you, as a leader, must have stolen often too for your men, bastard."
"Ha, you're not entirely wrong... Sorn."
The man's calling of his name sent goosebumps across his body.
"Sorn..."
"What? Just talk... But get off me first—"
The man leaned down, his lips inching closer to Sorn's ear. "I'm still not used to calling you by that name."
Letting out a quiet gasp, Sorn was trembling, not from fear but from the tickling sensation of the man's breath on his ear. He instinctively struggled with all his might to get the man off him. Sorn managed to move his elbow and tried to turn—yet the man's heavy body pinned him down again, "Agh!"
He bit Sorn's earlobe. Hard, but not enough to cause pain—Sorn was startled by the man's insane behavior.
"Fuck, are you one of those guys? Are you a sodomite?"
"Damn, that's a bit harsh."
Lick—something wet brushed against his ear, it was the man's tongue—he had just licked his ear.
This man is a pervert.
It was not uncommon for Sorn to encounter lecherous men, those sex-deprived men who preyed on his body. He was even embarrassed to admit that he had been dealing with such people since he was a kid.
He would never let them to indulge in their perversion.
"Sorn, the thing is, even if men aren't born homosexual, your face is enough to arouse them. In a world with a dwindling female population... a face like yours is dangerous."
"Shut up."
"You'll be safe with me. I won't let those filthy pigs touch you."
"You're the filthy pig! You are no different from those disgusting trash! I'm going to kill you if you touch me more than this! Get off—"
"Me?" The man had the audacity to gasped as if he was offended, "I never see you as a rape meat. I'm different, I'm not like other guys..."
"Fuck ...."
"Stay here, don't leave me."
He was done with this bullshit game. Despite his hands feeling like they were about to break and the man's weight making it difficult to straighten his body, Sorn persisted. He strained to twist his body, pushing the man away.
His effort paid off, the man pulled back to avoid Sorn's fist aimed at his jaw, and Sorn managed to reverse their positions.
Both of his hands now gripped the blue-eyed man's neck. He wasn't choking him, merely threatening that he could if he wanted. With a sharp gaze, Sorn stared directly at the man's face, which only sported a faint smile.
"Sorn… I heard you were once in an official military organization right after the zombies appeared. What happened there? Why did you leave? Isn't the organization you joined reserved for those born with privilege? So why did you decide to leave? I'm curious… Maybe you could tell me. If you become my assistant, you'll have plenty of time to spend with me. We could exchange grievances, you can lean on me, learn about each other's past... that's what friends are for, right?"
As he said this with such calm, as if he didn't feel Sorn's grip tightening on his neck, he touched Sorn's waist with his fingertips. Startled, Sorn reflexively threw a punch at the man's face.
"Don't touch me!"
"Haha…" With blood flowing from his nose, the man leisurely laughed. "Typical."
That cocky face, topped with that cocky smile.
Grinding his teeth in frustration, Sorn punched the man's face again and again. Even though the man knew the blows were coming, he did not flinch or move an inch. He accepted the punches with a calm demeanor as if he couldn't feel the pain. Realizing he had punched the man quite a few times, Sorn finally stopped and glared at the bruised face with a murderous stare.
They remained in that position, staring each other down without blinking, as if anyone who avoided eye contact would lose, continuing like that, tenaciously until—
*Growl~
"..."
"...."
Sorn cursed himself. He lowered his head in embarrassment, feeling a flush of heat gathering in his face. If he weren't wearing a mask, it would be obvious how red his face was right now. The sound of amused laughter followed, making Sorn bow his head even further.
"Haha, your neck is so red, just like a boiled crab." the man commented. "You must be really hungry. How many days has it been since you last ate? When was the last time you had a meal? Hey, Sorn, would you like something to eat? I have plenty of food supplies that can be heated up, or I can cook something for you. Though, I can only make simple dishes like omelets and fried rice ... —No complicated recipes."
"... Shut up."
"Come on." The man straightened his body, gripping Sorn's shoulders tightly as if to prevent him from falling. This put Sorn in a position sitting on his lap. "I know you're hungry. You're starving, right? Let's eat together… I haven't had lunch either… Ah, it's already noon. Sorn… do you know how long you've been sleeping here? Dean brought you here yesterday afternoon, and you just woke up this afternoon… Ah, you must have slept so deeply… How long has it been since you slept so soundly? How long have you slept uncomfortably out there? I should have found you sooner…"
"I said shut up… fuck, you're pissing me off."
"Yeah... You're hungry, and that's why you've been so quick to anger. Oh, and it's lunchtime now, so..."
Clack—The sound of the door creaking open made the two men in a suspicious position turn their heads toward the clueless man standing in the doorway. The man's steps halted as he witnessed what was happening in the room. His hand holding the tray jolted slightly and he tried to put on the calmest expression possible. Sorn could tell what the man was thinking— it was obvious how he was struggling to suppress a look of appalled confusion.