As Mei supported Seijiro, the sounds of shuffling feet and distant growls echoed behind them, growing louder with each passing moment. The weight of Seijiro's struggle felt like an anchor dragging her down.
"We have to move faster!" Kenji shouted, his grip tightening around Yuki as he carried her with urgency.
But just as they approached the rooftop door, Mei's expression shifted from fear to something darker. In a swift, shocking motion, she pushed Seijiro down; but before he could react he was already falling within the zombies arm's reach.
"I'm sorry, Seijiro! Please buy me some more time!" she called out, her voice lacking any trace of remorse.
"Seijiro!" Kenji and Yuki shouted in unison, their faces contorted in horror at the betrayal.
"No, we can't leave him!" Yuki cried, her fists pounding against Kenji's chest as desperation clawed at her heart.
"I'm sorry, Yuki," Kenji insisted, a cold edge to his voice. "He's already gone."
They reached the rooftop, Kenji dropped Yuki to stand on her own.
Yuki was still reeling from the shock of what had just happened. "What the hell, Mei? Why did you do that? We were supposed to stick together!"
Mei turned to face her, a chilling smile spreading across her lips. "I can't die. I had to survive. He was dead weight."
Yuki's heart sank, a mix of horror and betrayal washing over her. "But we're all friends!" she gasped, tears spilling down her cheeks.
"Not anymore," Mei replied, her voice dripping with malice. "Watch who you call your friend."
At that moment, a sinister smile crept onto Kenji's face. He had planned it all along with Mei, driven by his feelings for Yuki. He had been a snake in the grass the whole time.
"Yuki," he said, his voice dripping with malice, "I liked you all along, but you only had Seijiro in your heart."
Yuki stumbled back in shock. "What are you talking about?"
"Don't worry," Kenji continued, reveling in her confusion. "Seijiro isn't here to protect you anymore. I've gotten rid of him. You're defenseless now."
Yuki's heart raced as she struggled to comprehend the betrayal. "What do you mean?" she gasped, her voice trembling.
Kenji stepped closer, unbuttoning his trousers. "She has a crush on me," he said, nodding toward Mei. "I told her if she helped me get rid of you, I'd pay attention to her."
"No!" Yuki shrieked, trying to back away. But she was trapped.
She Called for Mei to help her but Mei turned away, cold and indifferent.
"Don't waste your strength, She won't help you" Kenji taunted, his eyes glinting with wicked delight. "There's only three of us, by the way. No one's coming to save you."
So just enjoy what I'm about to do to you.
Yuki shifted back, saying I'll rather die. Trying to bite her tongue.
Before Yuki could react, Kenji quickly stuffed his tie into her mouth, silencing her protests. "Not until you experience adulthood," he said, his perverted smile growing wider.
Yuki's heart raced as she realized the depths of their betrayal, helpless against the horrific reality closing in around her.
Meanwhile, Seijiro lay on the cold, unforgiving steps of the staircase, his body trapped and helpless beneath the weight of the infected. Their gnashing teeth tore into his flesh, each savage bite igniting a fire of agony that surged through him. He screamed, a desperate, broken sound that echoed off the walls, but his cries were swallowed by the moans of the undead surrounding him.
The pain was unbearable, each wound an assault, but nothing compared to the anguish of betrayal that gripped his heart. Amidst the horror, a memory forced its way through the haze of pain—a moment from earlier, when he and his friends had fought side by side, the bond of survival unbreakable. They had been so close to safety, to escaping this nightmare. But then, just when they had reached the staircase and the tide of zombies surged, fear had overwhelmed them.
"I'm sorry, but please, buy us more time!" Mei's voice had wavered as she shoved him toward the horde. The others had followed suit, rushing past him without a second glance, abandoning him to the chaos. Their faces, twisted in terror and desperation, haunted him now, fueling his fury even as his strength faded.
As the infected tore into him, the image of their betrayal cut deeper than any wound. Blood filled his mouth, mingling with the bitter taste of rage and despair. He had risked everything for them, sacrificed his safety countless times, only to be thrown aside when they believed their lives were at stake. This betrayal festered, morphing his agony into a searing vow.
"Remember this," he thought, clenching his teeth, forcing himself to keep fighting against the wave of decay and death. "If I survive, you will all regret this."
His vision began to blur, the world slipping into a swirling haze. The cold, unyielding steps felt distant, and the sounds of the undead grew muffled, as if he were drifting out of reality. Panic surged within him, mingling with the pain, but it was quickly overtaken by a fierce resolve.
He fought against the encroaching darkness, every gasp a battle as blood pooled around him. The faces of his former friends flashed before his eyes, the twisted, panicked expressions they wore when they condemned him. "You'll pay for this," he promised, his mind teetering between fury and despair.
In those final moments, Seijiro clung to his rage, the cold certainty of vengeance. The world dissolved into shadows, yet within those shadows, a flicker of determination remained. He would survive this, rise from this hell—and when he did, they would face the consequences.
With the last of his strength, Seijiro whispered into the darkness, "If I survive this... you will pay." And then, everything went silent.
As Seijiro slipped into unconsciousness, a memory surfaced from the depths of his mind. He found himself in a familiar setting, one of those quiet, late afternoons spent with old man Shintaro. The elder's words, roughened by age and experience, filled the silence with a sense of hard-won wisdom.
"Seijiro," Shintaro began, his voice carrying a serious tone, "do you know what's the most hopeless feeling in the world?"
In the memory, Seijiro saw himself as a younger, more innocent version, hesitating before answering, "Losing the people you love," he said quietly, his voice carrying a tinge of sadness.
Shintaro shook his head, his gaze far away, as if recalling a painful past. "Close," he murmured. "But the most hopeless feeling is being betrayed by someone you trust." The words were heavy, each syllable grounded in bitter experience. "Nothing's worse than that—being stabbed in the back by people you once thought would protect you."
The younger Seijiro, wide-eyed, looked up at Shintaro with a mix of curiosity and unease. "Have you… been betrayed before?"
A faint, bitter smile crossed Shintaro's face as he glanced down at a scar on his chest. "Oh, I've been betrayed plenty of times. You know I used to work in the special forces. Betrayal was part of the job—double agents, hidden enemies." He paused, tracing the scar thoughtfully. "One of them was my own friend, someone I'd trusted for years."
Seijiro's younger self stared, eyes widening in shock. "How did you survive?"
Shintaro's fingers lingered over the scar. "By luck, at first," he said, with a hint of irony in his voice. "See this scar?" He tapped the mark on his chest. "That's where he shot me, missed my heart by a few centimeters. They told me it was a miracle I survived. I went into a comatose State, woke up three months later in a hospital, only to learn my friend, my comrade, had been the one to pull the trigger. They'd executed him before I even came out of my coma, He was a spy the whole time."
Seijiro's younger self looked troubled, his expression filled with questions he couldn't quite voice.
Shintaro's gaze softened, and he placed a hand on Seijiro's shoulder. "Don't dwell on it. Sometimes, bad things happen for a reason. That betrayal led me to meet your grandmother, back in the hospital. Sometimes, life has a way of bringing you where you need to be—even if it's through pain."
The memory faded, leaving Seijiro with a lingering sense of resolve. With a sudden, sharp gasp, he jolted awake, feeling his chest, his arms, his stomach, half-expecting to find the wounds he was sure had been there. His flesh was whole, his injuries gone as though they'd never existed. Confusion washed over him. The last thing he remembered was the undead tearing into him, the sensation of his own blood spilling from his body.
But here he was—alive, his body intact.
A faint shuffle caught his ear. From the shadows, a lone zombie staggered toward him, its dead eyes fixed on him. Instinctively, Seijiro's body tensed, his training surging to life. The creature lunged, but Seijiro was quicker; he met its charge, feeling the monster's teeth graze his arm. Without a second thought, he drove it back, smashing its head against the wall with a force that surprised even him. It crumpled instantly, and Seijiro looked down, staring at his arm in disbelief.
The bite wound was already gone, healed before his very eyes.
His mind raced, realizing something had changed. He should have turned by now—the infection would have overtaken any normal person by now. But as he waited, the seconds ticking by, he felt no urge, no haze of bloodlust overtaking his senses. Five minutes passed. Then six. And still, he remained… himself.
But he knew something was different, something beyond immunity. His senses felt heightened, sharper. The faintest sounds reached his ears, his surroundings coming alive in newfound detail. He felt stronger, more aware. Testing his limbs, he found them more durable, capable of moving with a speed and force he'd never felt before.
A word formed in his mind—a name for what he had become: Ghoul.
Whatever he had become, it was no longer purely human.
He stared at his hands, flexing his fingers with newfound strength. He couldn't ignore the truth of his transformation. His body was infused with the virus—yet, it hadn't consumed him. He was something new, something both human and other.
A grim satisfaction settled over him as he rose to his feet, his mind filled with a single thought:
Revenge.