"You don't need to be afraid."
"I'm not afraid at all!" Sorn quickly retorted, his voice cracking slightly, and his face flushed red from embarrassment, which made the man laugh again. The man's demeanor made Sorn uncomfortable, he clearly had high social skills—a trait Sorn typically avoided.
"First of all, I want to apologize for the behavior of the man I sent to you. I had explicitly told him not to harm you, but he still punched your cheek. I will punish him, but from the bottom of my heart, I sincerely apologize for the damage to your face, which shouldn't have had any marks. If you apply ice regularly, the swelling and bruising should go away in a few days. I'll send a doctor to check on it regularly, ah—and also…"
The man spoke without taking a breath, and Sorn was slightly amazed at how clearly he could understand everything despite the rapid speech. However, this made him recall the throbbing pain in his right cheek, prompting him to check and gently touch the area. The pain was bearable, not severe enough to make him scream, so the man's reaction seemed exaggerated.
"…You will join my team as my assistant! I'll explain the benefits you'll receive while working with us—" The man's voice was cheerfully melodic.
"Wait. I never said I wanted to join."
Yeah, he remembered everything now. He might have been too disoriented right after waking up. He didn't even recall the last time he slept soundly on a comfortable bed—though, technically, he had fainted. The encounter with the uniformed man, who persistently offered him to join his group despite multiple rejections, had led to a brief fight. Sorn had decided to ignore him and go into a building to rest—until he eventually passed out from exhaustion.
And now, he woke up in this room with an unfamiliar, noisy man.
"You can eat as much as you want. Whatever you desire, just tell me, and I'll try to deliver it for you. Also, you can use this room. Want to know an interesting fact? I've had this room prepared for your arrival for a long time! I won't give you too much work, I just want you to join my team, and you'll receive privileges that others will envy."
The man seemed to not hear him. He continued speaking with a bright expression, as if he was truly welcoming the new member, and that annoying grin never faded.
"Why do you want me if you don't intend to make me work like a horse?"
For someone who was so insistent on approaching him and offering him repeatedly as if he didn't understand what a language 'no' meant, it seemed impossible that this man didn't want something from him. Also—
"You said you were the one who sent someone to recruit me... Are you the leader?"
The man, appearing still young, had no visible wrinkles, which led Sorn to estimate he was likely in his twenties. For someone so young to head an independent group with numerous resources typically associated with military organizations—such as food supplies, weapons, beds, and other hard-to-obtain items—was hard to believe. Sorn honestly doubted the man's status, he could be aligned with the official military organization but pretending not to be in order to trap new recruits.
Admittedly, he was overthinking this, but there were other possibilities for how this man could acquire such items, like what Sorn had often done to survive—stealing.
It would certainly be easier to gather resources with many members sharing the same goals.
"Yes, ah, you reminded me... I haven't introduced myself. My name is Ralf, and I'm the leader of this rather unclear group. Ugh, every time I welcome a new member, I never know what to call my team because I haven't come up with a name for it yet... It feels a bit cringe to name it— it sounds too much like a gangster, mafia, or illegal organization, doesn't it? That's why I didn't give it a name, I just couldn't think of one that wouldn't make us sound like gangsters... Ah, sometimes I get so stuck on naming that some of my members just call it X group, haha. X? Really, it sounds like a porn website..."
This guy sure can't stop talking once he starts... please, just breathe, or you might choke on your own words.
Sorn rubbed his forehead and leaned back against the wall, no longer caring if the man saw his face. After all, it was just the two of them here.
"...Ah, yes, to answer your question, it's simple. I need an assistant, and I want someone strong by my side. You... Mad Lucifer. Your name has spread everywhere. You know it's not just me who's after you, right? Many official military organizations have been following you, offering to cover all your needs if you turn yourself over to them as their weapon. And me? I just want your name in my group, that's it. A man named Mad Lucifer joining an independent team? Wow, they'll be shocked that someone has snatched up the Mad Lucifer who is desired across all of Europe."
"You're exaggerating,I'm not that popular." Honestly, Sorn knew that information wasn't entirely wrong. Many official military organizations from various parts of Europe had been tirelessly sending letters and their men directly to try and recruit him.
In fact, he had been part of an official military organization years ago, and it was an experience he had no desire to relive.
"Sorn Francis April."
".....?"
"I am a huge fan of yours, not just a new fan who knows you as Mad Lucifer, though you're pretty great in that persona too. I've been a fan since you were a child, seeing your face everywhere on TV, magazines, on the billboard and every street I passed. Sorn Francis April— your name is etched in my mind as if permanently tattooed there."
It felt like a bucket of ice had been dumped on his head.
Sorn's face went blank. If this man had known him from the time he was a child model, back when zombies had not yet appeared, then he could easily guess what this man wanted from him. He had encountered people like this man, claiming as a fan, before he decided to hide his face with a mask and change his hairstyle. It was one of the reasons he preferred to stay alone in this chaotic world.
He didn't want to spend another moment in this room with this strange man. With his body still weak, Sorn slowly moved to get off the bed, saying nothing, which made the smile on the man's face—who had been watching him—disappear after a while. His eyebrows lifted in confusion at the change in the room's atmosphere.
As Sorn searched for his bag, which was beside the nightstand, the man spoke again, his tone now lacking the previous excitement. "Yeah, you don't like it when people recognize you .... Am I right?"
Sorn, having found his bag and retrieved his mask from it, put it on and prepared to leave.
"Forget that name. Just consider that the child model is dead and gone, consumed by zombies or whatever. I've even forgotten my childhood. Hearing it from others is rather unpleasant."
"...."
"I understand why I had so many fans when I was still in the industry. After all, it was my job, and I just wanted the money. Whatever image you have of Sorn Francis April, it's all just a creation of the agency. So it's not wrong for me to say that the kid doesn't exist. He was never real."
It was all a facade, a persona molded like clay by his mother to become what she wanted. The love his fans gave him was directed towards the sweet, obedient little boy, not towards Sorn himself. Those who learned about his true nature grew to hate him and even felt betrayed. Why? Sorn never understood why people became so attached to the persona he portrayed in the media. Isn't it common knowledge that public figures merely play roles? So why is there such devastation when the real life of these figures doesn't match the fantasy image created?
Ahem— Sorn cleared his throat softly. This moment seemed like the first time in months he had a relaxed conversation with another person. Being alone for so long had made it odd for him to hear himself speaking so much.
The offer from the man was tempting, but he didn't want to repeat the times when he had to fend off human attacks. Yes, he could manage on his own. He had survived alone for almost his entire life, so solitude was nothing new.
"Fuck."
"...."
Did he just curse at me? Sorn's foot, which was about to step toward the door, paused, and he turned his head to give the man a glare, at least for their final interaction. But everything happened so fast. He didn't even see the man move— it was as if he flew towards him, pinning him hard against the teak wardrobe.
"Ugh." He winced, a mix of pain and surprise. As Sorn tilted his chin to glare at the man's face for this audacious act, his body froze.
The man's eyes seemed to glimmer, the deep blue of the ocean still present, but now they shone with a bluish light coming from his irises. Sorn blinked rapidly, tilting his head in curiosity, and strangely, the light disappeared a few seconds later.
"?????"
The man gripped his collar so tightly that it nearly choked him, the pressure making Sorn's toes barely touch the floor.
"You want to leave me again?! You haven't changed. I won't let you go! Not even a single step away from me, fuck!"
His voice was cold and low, almost like a growl, a stark contrast to his previous tone of friendliness, excitement, and warmth. It was as if those qualities had never existed.
Sorn furrowed his brow. "Again? ... Ah, are you a stan? The obsessive type of fan ... Huh, I told you, the Sorn you watched in the media was just a fantasy created by— ... Ugh—"
"I won't let you go. I won't. If I don't permit it, you can't leave."
"You... You are being, ugh... unreasonable. I don't— ... I don't even want to be here in the first place!"
It was out of character for Sorn to stammer. Even he was confused at himself—he wasn't someone easily intimidated, if anything, he was the opposite. But even though the man spoke with a calm, almost still-water tone, his eyes were so emotionless they sent chills down Sorn's spine. He wasn't sure why, but while the color of the man's eyes was beautiful, it felt as though it might drown him to death.