Sorn pushed the man holding his shoulders away and quickly stood up.
The man remained seated, showing no sign of embarrassment—or perhaps it wasn't something that should make him feel that way, as matter of fact, nothing unusual had happened between them.
"Ah, the long-awaited food is here. What did you bring, Emil?"
"Ugh, I brought steak... you asked for it, Ralf." Emil, who was called, slowly walked in, his gaze occasionally flickering to Sorn, his movements careful as if he was hesitant. "... It's hard to get meat for steak, it's sirloin ... enjoy your meal."
"It's not for me, Emil, but for our new member."
Hearing Ralf said that, Sorn quickly protested, "I never agreed to join!"
Emil, who had initially walked toward the madman, abruptly stopped and turned to approach Sorn instead. His eyes occasionally flickered to Sorn's face before looking down at the floor.
"This is for you."
"...."
Before his stomach could rumble again, Sorn unapologetically took the tray from Emil. He sat on the bed and swiftly began slicing the steak into pieces.
One thing about Sorn, he had a weakness for food and rarely said no. Once he finished the meal, he would leave this place as soon as possible, undoubtedly.
The two men in the room silently observed as Sorn deftly removed the mask from his mouth and took a bite. Sorn paid no attention to their stares, he had no time for embarrassment as he satisfied his hunger, which had been unfulfilled for almost two days.
"As expected from someone raised in an elite family… even when starving, he still eats with impeccable manners… oops—"
The fork, just about to reach his mouth, paused. Sorn glanced up at the man who had brought him the food, and in a panicked gesture, the man covered his mouth with both hands. He winced and quietly muttered curses under his breath as their eyes met. As expected, Emil had recognized him.
"Of course, Emil, Sorn isn't like the brutish men who devour their food like animals here, haha."
Then, his eyes moved to the darker blue ones gazing him with a smile. Clicking his tongue, Sorn promptly turned his gaze away from Ralf.
"I'm so sorry… I truly am… There must be a reason you're covering your face… Please accept my sincere apologies." Emil spoke with genuine regret, bowing his head and nervously rubbing his hands together.
Sorn wondered how someone as gentle as Emil could be in the same group as the blue-eyed man who seemed like a nutjob. His judgment about Ralf might be wrong, but despite the friendly face of the deep blue-eyed man, there was a strangely unsettling feeling whenever their eyes met.
"It's fine… it's just." Sorn finished chewing his meat before continuing, wiping his lips with his fingers. "I'm a bit surprised that so many people still remember my face. Considering I left the industry after graduating middle school, my face must have changed by now that I'm an adult. So why do so many still remember me? I often wonder about that."
"It's because your face is so striking... Ahem." Emil quickly corrected himself, choosing his words carefully. "I mean, it's your heterochromatic eyes that are your distinctive feature. Even though the color difference might not be very noticeable at first glance, if you look at your eyes for more than a few seconds, the difference becomes quite apparent."
"Ah… So it's my eyes, then? Should I start wearing an eye patch like a pirate?" Sorn raised a hand to cover his left eye, which had a greener tint. He grimaced at the thought, finding it a bit absurd, and then resumed eating.
"Hahaha, you're funny too, Sorn." Emil laughed heartily, as if the nervous man from earlier had never been in the room. From his reaction, Emil didn't realize that Sorn wasn't joking. "Covering half your face with a mask is enough to conceal your identity in my opinion. And yeah, well, your face has changed a lot since you were last in the media. But I'm not saying this negatively—you're still as beautiful as before. It's just that no one would guess that Mad Lucifer is actually Sorn Francis April."
".... Hm, people know the child model Sorn as a cute, sweet, and obedient little boy… And that's not me. You're right ..."
Sorn murmured, his voice low but still audible to the two men nearby.
"... Sorn, I hope we can be friends. My name is Emil—"
"Emil, get out." Without waiting for Emil to finish, Ralf gestured towards the door with a flick of his chin.
"... Okay. Let me know if you need anything."
As Emil exited, he cast one final glance at Sorn, who remained absorbed in his meal. Emil shut the door behind him, leaving Sorn and Ralf alone in the room. Sorn was oblivious to Ralf's sudden proximity, he silently watched his cheek move as he chewed the meat.
It was Ralf's index finger approaching his cheek that finally made Sorn aware of his presence, and he instinctively recoiled.
"Still not fond of being touched? You're not a model anymore."
"Do you like it when strangers touch you?" Sorn lifted the steak knife towards Ralf, causing the man's eyes to widen momentarily before narrowing in amusement.
"If you put it that way, then … I'd say I don't like it."
"Ha, sure."
Ralf rubbed his head, tousling his hair, and glanced at Sorn. It seemed he had been holding back laughter, which soon burst forth. Sorn expressionlessly looked at him as though he were seeing a possessed man, while Ralf laughed so hard that his whole body shook and he clutched his stomach. Sorn remained unfazed, finishing his meal, taking the last bite of his steak, and then setting the plate on the tray atop the nightstand.
"You're a lot calmer now that you've had something to eat," Ralf said with a hint of sarcasm, chuckling intermittently. "It's kind of endearing."
"I'm not a child, so I don't see it as a compliment," Sorn replied, wiping his lips with handkerchief.
"How many years did you serve in the military?"
"You want to know?"
"Yes… I'm curious."
"About 5 years… more or less."
"Only 5 years?"
"Why?"
"So, after spending five years in the military… where did you go?"
"It's hard to specify exact locations since country names no longer exist in this era. I was, probably in Hungary at the time and then moved wherever the trains were still operating. If I came across a car with fuel, I'd use that as well… until I eventually ended up here."
He had always stolen cars, though he wasn't very adept at driving. Motorcycles were more efficient for him, but both types of vehicles were hard to refuel. He would switch to hitching rides in trucks, trading stolen food and medicine. Locals often compensated him with food when he cleared out zombies and secured an area for a few days before the military arrived, claiming to protect the residents. Then, he would leave quickly to avoid the captains who relentlessly tried to offer him a spot in their ranks.
"So you've been wandering aimlessly since then?"
"Yeah..." Sorn answered briefly.
Ralf stood with his arms folded across his chest, his expression one of admiration. "No wonder people call you Mad Lucifer."
"It's not easy to survive on your own, I'll admit."
"And you won't have to worry about that anymore. I'll take care of everything while you're with me as my assistant. So, you agree, right?"
As the man leaned in, his crescent-shaped eyes gleaming with a smile, Sorn hesitated to open his mouth— the man's face was too close, so he turned his head away. On second thought, he realized this man would likely not accept a 'no' for an answer.
Would this be okay?
He secretly made a plan to stay here for a few days to gather supplies and perhaps steal some weapons before leaving.
Yeah, this might be a good idea.
And the man, as the leader of the group, he couldn't always be on-site to supervise. There were other responsibilities that demanded his attention. If he did nothing, his group wouldn't have lasted long without being ousted by the official military organization.
Most importantly, the man, still smiling as he patiently waited for Sorn's answer, did not seem to be the lecherous type. Yes, his behavior was a bit eccentric—though from his outward demeanor, it appeared he wasn't interested in men, even in a hypothetical world where the female population was nonexistent. This was Sorn's assumption, with no clear basis—perhaps due to his bad experiences with numerous perverse men trying to touch him, making it difficult for him to distinguish between genuine sexual orientation and predatory behavior.
"... I'll give it a try."
Sorn murmured, almost inaudible.
In an instant, the man's face brightened with joy, and he impulsively embraced Sorn tightly, causing Sorn to reflexively smack him on the head. When he pulled away, Ralf winced in pain, which seemed a bit dramatic, and rubbed the spot where Sorn had struck him. Oddly enough, he wasn't upset— instead, he chuckled as though in a good mood and said, "Sorry, sorry," while retrieving something from his pocket and handing it to Sorn.