Joanne entered the building cautiously, making her way through the abandoned hallways with every step. The air inside was stale, but the silence was a stark contrast to the chaos outside.
As she reached the stairs that led to the rooftop, she hesitated for a moment, her hand gripping the railing. She had no idea who or what she was about to encounter, but the curiosity was too overwhelming to ignore.
Finally, she stepped onto the rooftop, and the scene before her took her breath away.
There he stood, tall and relaxed, as if the world outside had stopped mattering. His hair flowed in the wind, dark and unruly, adding to his carefree aura. Two stunning earrings shaped like tiny swords dangled from his ears, catching the sunlight as they swayed slightly. He was wearing a simple, casual shirt and shorts, completely out of place for someone surviving in an apocalypse. But there he was, standing as though the world was at peace.
Joanne's breath hitched as her eyes met his. His gaze was steady and calm, focused on her with an intensity that sent a strange shiver down her spine. He wasn't just looking at her—he was observing her, and she couldn't help but feel a flutter in her chest.
Her heart raced.
It was almost as if time had slowed, and everything else faded into the background. Joanne's mind struggled to keep up with the emotions rushing through her. She felt like she was looking at someone she had always admired from afar—a crush, but stronger than that.
The man exuded a confidence and tranquility that felt almost too good to be true in a world so chaotic.
For a moment, she stood frozen, taking in his appearance, the way the wind tousled his hair and the quiet power he seemed to radiate. Her eyes lingered on his face, his features sharp and defined, his expression unreadable but not unkind. Everything about him made her feel like she was standing on the edge of something unknown, something exciting.
She opened her mouth to speak, but her voice caught in her throat. She had no idea what to say to a man who seemed so out of place in the world they now lived in.
"Who... are you?" she finally managed, her voice a little shakier than she intended.
The man, still standing with his calm presence, finally broke the silence. "I'm Charvet," he said with a slight nod, his voice smooth and confident. His gaze softened a little, and he added, "And you are?"
Joanne blinked, momentarily taken off guard by his easy introduction. It felt almost... normal, despite the world crumbling outside. "I'm Joanne," she replied, her heart still racing, her voice slightly breathless. "Joanne May."
Charvet smiled, the warmth in his eyes unmistakable. "Nice to meet you, Joanne. Please, take a seat," he gestured to a small table nearby. He seemed so relaxed, so at ease in this chaos, and it was a stark contrast to everything outside.
Joanne hesitated for a moment, her eyes scanning the rooftop one last time to make sure no zombies had managed to sneak past. When she saw none, she slowly approached the table, sitting down across from Charvet. As she did, her eyes couldn't help but drift toward the beautiful earrings in his ears, their tiny sword shape gleaming in the fading sunlight.
Without missing a beat, Charvet turned and walked toward a small door that led inside the building. "Wait here," he called over his shoulder. "I'll get you something to drink."
Joanne couldn't help but feel a mix of confusion and curiosity as she watched him disappear into the building. What kind of person was he? How could someone be so calm and carefree in the midst of everything falling apart?
A few moments later, Charvet returned, holding two mugs of steaming coffee. He set one in front of her before sitting down across from her with his own mug. He took a sip, clearly comfortable in the silence, before breaking it with his question.
"So, where are you from, Joanne?" Charvet asked, his eyes never leaving her as he leaned back slightly, clearly not in a rush. "And where are you headed?"
Joanne took a deep breath, surprised at how easy it was to talk to him. "I'm from Central University," she began, her voice quieter now, but steady. "I'm a student there. I was... I'm part of a group of players that formed factions to protect the campus. I've been hunting zombies for days, trying to level up and... complete my class quest."
Charvet raised an eyebrow, clearly interested. "A class quest? Which one?"
Joanne hesitated for a moment, feeling a mix of pride and uncertainty. "Battle Mage," she said finally, a small smile playing at the corner of her lips. "I'm focusing on intelligence. It's tough, but... I'm getting there."
Charvet nodded thoughtfully, as if weighing her words. "Battle Mage, huh? Sounds like you've got some real potential." He paused for a second, then gave her a reassuring smile. "Well, good luck with it. But you'll need more than just strength or intelligence to survive out there. You'll need strategy, and more importantly, allies."
Joanne nodded, her eyes firm with resolve. "I know. That's exactly why I'm out here—to get stronger. I refuse to be powerless in this world."
Charvet's expression softened, as if understanding her more than she expected. "Well, I hope you find it," he said, taking another sip of his coffee. "But you'll need to be careful. The world isn't as it seems anymore, and there are bigger challenges ahead."
Joanne leaned back in her seat, looking at him, her curiosity piqued. "What do you mean by that?"
Charvet only smiled, his gaze distant for a moment as if lost in thought. "You'll find out soon enough," he said, his voice quiet but certain.
They continued talking, learning more about each other—where they were when the apocalypse started, how they had survived so far, and their plans moving forward. Joanne spoke about the factions at Central University and how they were preparing to take down a boss monster to obtain a Guild Creation Stone. Charvet listened, offering small comments but never revealing much about himself.
As the conversation carried on, the sky darkened, the distant howls and groans of zombies growing louder. Joanne glanced at the horizon, realizing how late it had gotten.
"I should head back," she said, standing up.
Charvet, who had remained seated, simply shook his head. "Bad idea," he said plainly
Joanne frowned. "I've been doing this for days now. I can handle myself."
Charvet finally stood, his relaxed demeanor unchanged, but his eyes held a knowing look. "It's different now. Haven't you noticed? The zombies are getting stronger, and the mutated ones come out more at night. If you run into something unexpected while you're already tired, it could be the last mistake you ever make."
Joanne hesitated. She had noticed the changes—the zombies were evolving, some moving faster, some showing unnatural strength. Even her faction leaders were starting to worry about night hunts.
Still, she didn't like the idea of staying.
"I can't just stay here," she argued, crossing her arms.
Charvet gave her an easygoing smile. "Why not? The place is safe, I have supplies, and you'll get a good night's rest. You can leave first thing in the morning when it's safer."
She bit her lip, weighing her options. It was risky, but so was traveling at night.
"Fine," she finally said with a sigh. "Just for tonight."
Charvet smirked, nodding. "Smart choice."
As he led her inside the building, he stole a glance at her from the corner of his eye. She was beautiful—exactly his type.
That thought lingered in his mind as they stepped inside, shutting the door behind them.
Joanne disappeared into the bathroom, and Charvet turned his focus to cooking, the steady sizzle of the pan filling the quiet space. The rich aroma of food spread through the room, momentarily grounding him in something normal amidst the chaos of the world outside.
Then, the bathroom door creaked open.
Charvet glanced over—and his hands instinctively paused.
Joanne stepped out, steam curling around her like a soft veil. A single towel hugged her curves, droplets of water tracing paths down her smooth skin. Her damp hair clung to her face and neck, framing her delicate features.
For a fleeting second, Charvet found himself caught off guard. He prided himself on staying composed no matter the situation, but even he wasn't immune to the sight before him. She was beautiful—undeniably so. His heartbeat picked up, but his expression remained unreadable.
With a controlled breath, he turned back to the stove. "There are clothes in the closet," he said evenly, keeping his tone casual.
Joanne chuckled softly as she walked past him, the faint scent of soap lingering in the air.
Charvet exhaled through his nose, shaking his head at himself. Stay focused.
Charvet set the plates down on the small table, the aroma of freshly cooked food filling the room. Satisfied with his work, he turned toward the bedroom door and called out, "Food's ready."
A moment later, Joanne stepped out.
Charvet blinked. She was wearing his white T-shirt, the fabric slightly oversized on her petite frame, and a pair of shorts he had given her. But what caught his attention was how she held her arms awkwardly across her chest, subtly blocking his view.
She was shy.
That realization made him pause. Up until now, she had been composed—strong, confident, and determined. But in this moment, standing there in his clothes, her damp hair still clinging to her skin, she looked… different. Softer. More vulnerable.
Joanne cleared her throat, shifting uncomfortably under his gaze. "Uh… your shirt is a little too thin," she muttered, glancing away.
Charvet finally understood. Without a bra, the fabric wasn't doing much to hide anything.
He looked away, giving her space. "There's a jacket in the closet if you need it," he said casually, acting as if it didn't bother him.
Joanne nodded quickly and turned back into the room for a moment before returning with a hoodie over her. Once she sat down, Charvet smirked slightly and pushed a plate toward her.
"Eat up. You'll need the energy," he said, before grabbing his own fork.
Joanne exhaled softly, finally relaxing as she picked up her utensils. "Thanks."
After finishing their meal, Charvet stood up and stretched before glancing at Joanne. "You can take the bed. I'll sleep on the sofa," he said casually, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
Joanne, who had been sipping the last of her water, nearly choked. She looked at him, her cheeks slightly flushed. "Are you sure? I mean… it's your bed."
Charvet shrugged. "Yeah, and?" He picked up the dishes and brought them to the sink. "You need proper rest. You've been out hunting zombies all day."
Joanne hesitated, glancing at the neatly made bed. It had been days since she'd slept somewhere truly comfortable. At the university, she had to settle for whatever blankets and makeshift beds they could find. Still, the idea of sleeping in a man's bed while he took the couch made her feel… odd.
"Alright," she finally said, her voice quieter than usual. "Thank you."
Charvet waved it off, already grabbing a pillow and heading for the couch. "Don't overthink it."
The room fell into a comfortable silence. Joanne slowly lay down, feeling the softness of the mattress beneath her. She hadn't realized how much she missed something as simple as a real bed. Meanwhile, Charvet stretched out on the sofa, resting an arm behind his head as he stared at the ceiling.
The air between them felt different—almost intimate in its quietness. The apocalypse had stripped people of many things, but for a moment, inside this small, dimly lit apartment, it felt normal. Almost peaceful.
Joanne turned slightly, peeking over at Charvet. His breathing was steady, his expression relaxed as if he had no worries.
She bit her lip before whispering, "Goodnight, Charvet."
He didn't open his eyes but responded with a calm, "Night."
And just like that, for the first time in a long time, Joanne slept without fear.