It turned out Dean was right. As they descended the stairs and walked down a short hallway, all Sorn saw was a large table, a few chairs, a large sofa, and an ottoman—most likely a space where the members hung out to chat and relax. There were some leftover snack wrappers lying around—a reminder that while the group's members spent time here interacting, all Sorn had done since arriving was stay holed up in his room.
Dean pointed out several doors, explaining which ones belonged to other members and which ones led to unused, empty rooms. When Sorn asked why his room wasn't on this floor, Dean reminded him that Ralf had long ago prepared a room specifically for him upstairs.
It was even more irritating when Sorn asked how Ralf had known his presence was in the vicinity of the group's hideout. Dean gave him the same broken-record response— "Ask Ralf when he gets back."
They moved down to the lower floor—the one Sorn had visited the other day for his examination with Hilda. This floor housed the kitchen and the supply storage, managed by Emil. The rooms belonging to Dean, Hilda, and Emil were also located here. As Sorn and Dean walked around, nothing really stood out. The place looked like a typical old apartment building, though it was still sturdy and in good condition.
Sorn's eyes landed on a smaller staircase leading downward, noticeably narrower than the others. He nudged Dean's shoulder and pointed toward it.
"So, how many floors does this building have?" Sorn asked curiously.
Dean followed his gaze and quickly shook his head. "No, you can't go down there. Only Hilda and Ralf are allowed down that way!"
"Oh… A secret room, huh? I just asked how many floors there are in total."
"For your information, this entire building is underground."
"I suspected that from the beginning, considering the lack of sunlight," Sorn shrugged casually. "That's why I wanted to go outside in the first place—to see what this building looks like from the outside. You still haven't answered my question, Dean."
"Overall, this building is only four stories high. Done exploring? Let's head back to your room."
Sorn still wanted to explore more, but the place felt eerily empty. It made sense, with only twelve people living here and half of them currently out. He cast a brief glance at the forbidden staircase before reluctantly following Dean, who was already a few steps ahead.
An underground building. It really was the perfect place for a hideout.
"Dean, has this underground building been here for a long time, or did you guys build it yourselves?"
"..."
"Don't tell me I need to ask Ralf something that simple?"
"I don't know."
"Huh?"
Sorn stepped closer, studying Dean's expression. At first, he thought Dean was just being lazy and didn't want to answer. But after checking closely, Dean's face didn't show any signs of lying. For someone who had been with Ralf for a long time, shouldn't he know more?
"I'm serious, I have no idea where Ralf found this building. When I escaped with him, he brought me straight here. And when I asked him about it, Ralf never answered. You know how he is, right? I'm sure you've figured out his personality by now, even in the short time you've been with him—he always changes the subject."
"When you escaped with him...?" That phrase caught Sorn's attention. It seemed Dean hadn't meant to reveal that detail. Sorn pressed on. "So, you two were part of the same military organization before?"
"Forget it." Dean picked up his pace, leaving Sorn behind, though he kept glancing back, as if signaling Sorn to head back to his room. "Ask Ralf yourself."
Of course, that's exactly what he'd say.
Sorn adjusted his mask. There was nothing else for him to do today. His muscles felt weak from spending too much time sitting and sleeping—nothing like when he was outside, where he barely had a moment to rest, constantly fending off zombies trying to kill him.
A few days ago, he had met Matthew—the guy who had repeatedly approached him, inviting him to join this group before Ralf sent Dean to retrieve him. Matthew was currently in charge of security while Ralf was away. When Sorn crossed paths with him, he politely asked if he needed anything. It was deliberate kindness—at the time, Sorn hoped to use the opportunity to find a way out of this building and figure out exactly where their hideout was. But, as if following Ralf's orders, Matthew had forbidden him from wandering beyond the floor where his room was located.
He really was a prisoner here, huh. Seriously, when the hell was the idiot leading this group going to come back?
Dean's foot paused mid-step on the stairs when Sorn called his name.
"You said Ralf is immune to zombie bites—"
Before Sorn could finish, Dean flew toward him and clamped a hand over his mouth. Sorn stumbled back, his spine hitting the wall as he reflexively tried to dodge, but Dean was quick, silencing him before he could make another sound.
"I told you not to talk about that in public."
Sorn mumbled that they were the only ones here, so Dean didn't need to overreact like this. But his words came out as muffled grunts, with Dean's hand firmly pressed over his mouth, even through the mask Sorn was wearing. Sorn hated being touched, so he pushed hard against Dean's chest, trying to shove him away with all his strength.
The sudden sound of a metal door slamming open drew both of their attention toward the source of the noise.
"?????"
There stood Ralf, looking utterly confused by the scene before him. Behind him were several men, their gazes fixed on Sorn, clearly wondering who the man currently pinned against the wall by Dean was.
Ralf dropped a large black plastic bag onto the floor and strode toward them. He quickly grabbed Sorn by the shoulder and pulled him away from Dean's grip.
"I didn't know your tastes had changed, Dean. You said you weren't into pretty-faced guys like Mad Lucifer?"
Hearing Ralf's cold words, tinged with a hint of playful irritation, Dean's face instantly drained of color.
"You've got it all wrong! Whatever you're thinking, it's not like that! I don't see Sorn that way! I swear!"
Ralf crossed his arms over his chest, still somewhat skeptical. His eyes scrutinized Dean, as if trying to determine whether he was telling the truth. After a few seconds, Ralf let out a long sigh and turned to Sorn.
"What are you doing down here? Didn't I tell you to stay on the upper floor?"
That made Sorn scowl, reminded once again of his frustration. "Your request is ridiculous! Why can't I explore this place if I'm supposed to be part of your group?"
"I told you to wait for me to get back…"
"Bastard! Do you know how many days you left me here?!"
"Sorry, I would've come back sooner if I'd known you'd miss me like this, Sorn."
"Don't be weird, I don't miss you at all!"
The five men who had arrived with Ralf observed Sorn curiously. Three of them soon sank into chairs, setting down the large bags and plastic containers they had been carrying. They looked exhausted—dirt and grime covered their faces and clothes, as if they'd just fought through a storm. One man, still standing with blood splattered across the front of his shirt, opened a small fridge, grabbed some bottles of water, and passed them to his friends seated nearby. They sipped their water while watching Sorn and Ralf argue, entertained by the absurdity of the exchange.
However, the man with the blood-stained shirt couldn't hold back his curiosity any longer.
"So, Ralf, is that guy Mad Lucifer?"
At the mention of that name, Sorn instinctively stepped back from Ralf. He quickly checked his mask, exhaling in relief when he realized it was still securely covering the lower half of his face.
"... Based on the mask he's wearing and that platinum blonde hair... Hmm, I thought Mad Lucifer would be taller." The man gestured with his hand, raising it above his head. Apparently, many people assumed Mad Lucifer was a buff, tall guy.
That statement didn't surprise Sorn—he had heard plenty of times how shocked people were when they found out that Mad Lucifer wasn't even six feet tall. He wasn't offended, but hearing it never exactly pleased him either.
Ralf wrapped an arm around Sorn's shoulder, which Sorn instinctively tried to dodge, but Ralf's persistence won, forcing Sorn to accept it begrudgingly.
"His name is Sorn Heinrich."
"What?" Sorn snapped his head up to meet Ralf's face, which was now sporting a casual smile toward his group members.
"Turns out he's my distant cousin… Haha." Ralf continued.
"???????"
Everyone in the room stared at him, perplexed—Dean included, still standing stiffly by the stairs.
"He'll be my assistant. Sorn, let me introduce you to the members of my group. The two men sitting on the chairs are Frank and Moses. The one sprawled on the couch is Peter, and the guy organizing the plastic bags over there is Carl..."
The man with blood stains on his shirt extended his hand toward Sorn. Though hesitant, Sorn shook it.
"My name's Eugene! Nice to meet you, Sorn. I hope you feel comfortable here..."
"You don't really need to remember their names. Haha, they'll leave soon once their task here is finished anyway." Ralf gave Sorn's shoulder a brief squeeze before finally releasing him and turning his attention to the bag he had brought.
"Leave...?"
"They'll head back once they're done helping me. They'll return when I call them again," Ralf explained as he pulled a plain baby blue t-shirt from the bag and held it up against Sorn's body. "Ah, yes, perfect! Pale colors suit you."
"Do you trust them?"
The blunt question slipped from Sorn's mouth unintentionally. The five men here didn't seem particularly close to Ralf—not like Dean and Hilda, whose interactions with him carried the familiarity of old friends, devoid of formalities.