Hazy_0832's Official Website

A Place for My Stories, Worlds, and Dreams

Home

Bio

About

Novels List [You can read them here!]

Short Stories

Fanfictions

Contact me

Updates

  • 37th Death: Equilibrium

    “Go fuck yourself.” Jang spat, wiping the blood from his nose.

    “You proved my point anyway. Little twink. Pussy.” He forced a chuckle, but there was a sharp edge to it.

    Jiho said nothing. He just stared, his gaze unwavering.

    Jang’s smirk faltered for a moment before he scoffed, eyes drifting away. “The only reason I stuck around was ’cause I felt sorry for your bitch ass. You think I actually give a fuck about you?”

    Jiho didn’t react. He just kept looking at him, silent.

    “FUCKING SAY SOMETHING, LITTLE BITCH!” Jang snapped, his voice cracking with frustration.

    Jiho stood firm, fists clenched, chin lowered.

    Then, Jang shouted. “Fuck you. Fuck this. You fucking lost your mind. I should’ve let you die when I had the chance.” His voice was low but seething. He turned on his heel, throwing his arms up. “Fuck this. Fuck that fucking school. If someone comes for me, so be it.”

    He paused at the door, looking back just once.

    “I’m strong as fuck now. And next time you’re choking to death, I won’t lift a finger.” He spat the words like venom before slamming the ambulance door behind him, the metal bending from the force.

    Jang walked away hastily, breathing hard with his hands tucked in his pockets.

    Marcel called after him, voice smooth and taunting. “Remember, Monsieur! 8:45 PM, Class 3!”

    “FUCK YOU!” Jang’s voice faded into the distance.

    Jiho stepped out of the ambulance, his gaze settling on Marcel and his companions.

    “You wanted to know what we talked about, right?” Jiho said. His voice was steady. “I’ll tell you everything I know.”

    They exchanged looks.

    “Huh. We were sure Monsieur Jang convinced you otherwise…”

    “He was right. Hyung was right.” Jiho exhaled. “This is a dog-eat-dog world. You can’t trust anyone.”

    Then, after a beat, he added, “But if we’re being pragmatic, I’d rather keep powerful people like you close.”

    The three of them blinked at him.

    And then, after a moment… Marcel and his two associates burst into laughter.

    Jiho looked away, almost awkwardly. “…What?”

    Marcel waved a hand, grinning. “Hahaha, don’t take it the wrong way, Monsieur.” His voice was amused, but there was a glint of something else in his eyes. “We’re just not used to this level of honesty… I see now. So, we’re the ‘Pragmatic’ and ‘Powerful’ allies you’ve chosen to align yourself with?”

    Their gazes lingered on Jiho—mocking, yes, but tinged with respect.

    Jiho’s face flushed. He pressed his lips together and looked away.

    “…Ye—yeah. What about it?”

    Their amused chuckles grew louder.

    Marcel studied Jiho, the corners of his lips twitching.

    ‘Hah… No wonder My Lady is so taken with him.’

    ‘She always did have a taste for things worth claiming… As befitting her status and name.’

    He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. ‘In that case… I’ll leave the guiding to her.’

    “Either way, let us not waste any time. Very well. I’d love to hear what you ahve to say, Monsieur. Though, let us do it shortly, so your dear mother wouldn’t worry.” Marcel let out as he climbed up the ambulance and they talked.

    —————

    Jiho climbed the stairs to his room, closing the door behind him with a quiet thud.

    ‘I’ll see them tomorrow. I need to…’ He gulped, his fingers twitching over the keyboard. ‘Be prepared. I decided.’

    He clicked open the browser and hesitated for a moment. Then, with a breath, he typed:

    “How to manipulate someone—”

    His stomach twisted. He mashed the backspace key until nothing remained.

    ‘Just stay away from Daniel and Eunhee. I also have a date tomorrow… Something I got WITHOUT lying once.’

    But his fingers didn’t leave the keyboard.

    His lips pressed into a thin line. ‘Then again, I knew Eunhee for ten years. And she just mindlessly believed everything Daniel shoved her. I need… I should make sure it doesn’t happen with Amelie.’

    His teeth clenched. Before he could second-guess himself, he typed it again.

    “How to manipulate someone.”

    A flood of results. His eyes darted over them.

    One in particular caught his attention—“10 EASY Steps To Control People’s FEELINGS!”

    Jiho gulped. His cursor hovered, then clicked.

    [HAVE YOU EVER HAD SOMEONE YOU CARED ABOUT BE MANIPULATED INTO HATING YOU?]

    His breath hitched.

    “….!!”

    It was like the page was speaking directly to him.

    [THE TRUTH IS, IN THIS WORLD, YOU HAVE TO LEARN THE ART IF YOU WANT TO PROTECT YOURSELF FROM IT.]

    “This is it!” His mind screamed as he scrolled faster. “I hate it, but it’s good… I need to read everything here!”

    He devoured the words like they held some hidden power, something he could wield. Step after step. Key phrases. Tone manipulation. Psychological loopholes.

    Somewhere between reading “Step 3: Mirror Their Emotions” and “Step 5: Make Them Crave Your Validation,” Jiho found himself standing in front of the mirror.

    He adjusted his stance. Sharpened his eyes.

    “Did you really think I’d let you play me?”

    His reflection stared back, unimpressed.

    “I don’t really care about you and Daniel, Eunhee. You do you. You think I CARE? I never cared. You did it all for nothing. Fuck all you want. I moved on in life. I got a GIRLFRIEND now.”

    ‘So dumb,’ He couldn’t help but think.

    “…What the fuck am I doing?”

    He let out a sharp exhale, running a hand down his face before trudging back to his bed. His body hit the mattress with a thud.

    He groaned, turning onto his side. ‘You could read a thousand articles and still be an idiot.’

    His thoughts drifted.

    ‘If Eunhee can be manipulated, then fuck her. Really…’

    But then his mind shifted—to his mother.

    She had stayed in that house. Even when people whispered that Jiho was dead. Even when the world moved on without him; when she had every reason to leave.

    ‘No. learning how to ‘Manipulate’ shouldn’t be a priority…’ His thoughts then drifted to the hulking mass that attacked him and the gothic-looking girl.

    ‘I need to get stronger.’

    “Status Window.”

    [MULTIPLE ACHIEVEMENTS UNLOCKED!]

    [MULTIPLE TITLES UNLOCKED!]

    [LEGENDARY SKILLS DUE TO ACHIEVEMENTS UNLOCKED!]

    [EXTRA EXP GRANTED DUE TO ACHIEVEMENTS]

    [SECRET CHALLENGE COMPLETED!]

    [Status Window – Jiho An]

    [Level]: 50

    [Title]: [CHOOSE A TITLE!]

    [Class]: [CLASSES AVAILABLE!]

    [Sub-class]: []

    [HP]: 1,000/1,000

    ====== STATS=========

    STAT POINTS AVAILABLE: 250 (+400)

    [Strength]: 10

    [Agility]: 10

    [Vitality]: 10

    [Perception]: 15

    [Intelligence]: 10

    [ADDITIONAL SKILLS MAY BE GRANTED AFTER CHOOSING A CLASS DUE TO ACHIEVEMENTS!]

    ‘Just like a game… So many things to read through.’ Jiho sighed, scrolling through the information. ‘I need to understand what I get from each stat first. Let’s start with the simple stuff.’

    He glanced at the clock. Just before midnight.

    ‘Let’s do this outside.’

    Jiho quietly slipped out of the house and made his way to the empty park.

    ‘Alright… let’s start.’

    “Hey, uh… System.” Jiho let out, the sound of crickets filling the night as he stared at his status window.

    [Sup, Boyo?]

    “I wanna get stronger. What should I do first?”

    [Depends. What’s your type?]

    “Type?”

    [Do you like to punch really hard and slaughter your enemies? Maybe you prefer sneaking in and out of battle? Or perhaps you fight from afar, attacking from a safe distance?]

    ‘Hm… I get it. So, the way I use these stats will determine my type.’

    [Yes, you got it.]

    ‘Then… Hyung would be the ranged type. He’s strong, but his real power is using zombies to fight for him. That honestly sounds like the best option. I wouldn’t even have to do anything…’

    [… But you don’t really want that, do you, Boyo?]

    Jiho’s fist clenched at his side.

    [You want to slaughter them, don’t you?]

    “I…”

    [It felt good, didn’t it? Butchering those zombies with your bare hands. If only you could do that to those two numbnuts who lynched you… Hm. No one would ever mess with you again.]

    “Yeah… It felt the best…” Jiho clenched his teeth before shaking his head. “But if someone stronger gangs up on me, I’d be toast. No. I need something swift and efficient.”

    His mind flashed back to Amelie standing above him in the apartment, gesturing for him to break the pipe into two makeshift steel knives.

    ‘That was the moment I really started tearing into them… even without ridiculous strength.’

    [Oh, I see… Then?]

    “I want something fast, efficient… and stabby.”

    [Assassin, then. Oh, the irony.]

    “What irony?”

    [You wear your emotions on full display, yet you want to be the class that best conceals them.]

    “It worked best whenever I had to fight.” Jiho exhaled. “I want precision. What if I have to protect my mom, and I accidentally… hurt her? No. If I’m going to be a killer… I want to be a perfect one.”

    A message appeared before his face.

    [You are about to change into: ASSASSIN. ARE YOU SURE?]

    [YES] [NO]

    “Yeah. No doubt about it.”

    [CLASS CHANGE COMPLETE! NEW SKILLS UNLOCKED! SECRET SUB-CLASS UNLOCKED DUE TO ACHIEVEMENTS…]

    ‘Let’s not rush it… I’m curious, but that can wait. First… the basics.’

    “Before I dive into it, tell me about the stats. What does each one dictate?”

    [Pretty straightforward. Strength regulates, well, strength. The higher it gets, the harder you hit and the heavier things you can lift.]

    [Next up, Agility. It dictates bodily flexibility and how well you control your movements and strength. Any class that relies on physical combat needs to level up these two.]

    [Then, we have Vitality. Basically, how much punishment your body can take before you kick it—plus how fast you naturally heal. After a certain level, your skin will be as dense as iron. Barely anything could penetrate you. This applies to everything, including muscle tissue and soft tissue.]

    Jiho flinched.

    ‘Gonna need that.’

    [Then, you have Perception. Sheeesh, you got a natural boost of Perception, Boyo! Not surprising, seeing how you managed to talk down not one, but THREE potential killers. This stat dictates awareness and attention to detail. It makes you harder to surprise and lets you notice attacks before they happen.]

    ‘…!! Scratch that. Top priority—this one.’

    [Finally, you have Intelligence. I’d like to say I saved the best for last, but it’s not that exciting. Increasing Intelligence reduces how much HP you use per attack, makes active skills more efficient, and increases the speed at which you level up.]

    “Okay. Let’s experiment a little then,” Jiho murmured, a small smirk forming on his face.

    STAT POINTS AVAILABLE: 250 (+400)

    [Strength]: 10
    [Agility]: 10
    [Vitality]: 10
    [Perception]: 15
    [Intelligence]: 10

    Jiho lightly punched a plastic slide, denting it.

    ‘Alright…’

    “Increase Strength by 10.”

    [Strength]: 10 → 20

    He threw the same punch again. This time, his fist sank deeper into the plastic, a loud thud echoing from the impact.

    ‘Fuck… That’s… so cool.’

    He let out a chuckle, flexing his fingers.

    ‘But I didn’t mean to punch that hard… So, let’s see. Flexibility and control, you say?’

    He attempted to do the splits, barely making it halfway down before tapping out.

    “Increase Agility by 10.”

    [Agility]: 10 → 20

    Jiho tried again.

    ‘Huh…’

    His legs stretched effortlessly, his body lowering all the way to the ground.

    ‘It still hurts… but not nearly as bad as before. And I wasn’t even halfway down last time.’

    He pushed himself back up, shaking his legs off before turning to face the plastic slide again.

    ‘Alright… let’s try punching it lightly this time.’

    He threw a careful punch.

    The slide dented slightly.

    ‘I held back this time, but I can feel that I held back. Weird… It’s like I instinctively know how much strength to put in my fist now.’

    Then a thought struck him.

    ‘Hold on…’

    He took a few steps back, looking at his legs, then up toward the sky.

    ‘It has to mean that, right?’

    Lowering himself into a stance, he suddenly sprang upwards.

    ‘Woah… I’m at least two meters in the air!’

    For a brief moment, he soared, reaching almost the same height as the slide before landing with a soft thud.

    “Increase Agility by 20!” He let out enthusiastically, already feeling the high air in his face.

    [Agility]: 20 → 40

    Jiho immediately tried jumping again.

    He reached the same height.

    ‘Huh…? I was sure I’d jump higher.’

    His feet hit the ground, the impact just as rough as before.

    ‘Even the landing feels the same… The only thing that changed was how quickly I got into position and how fast I sprang up.’

    Jiho turned, eyes locked on the jungle gym behind him.

    ‘I bet I can do that easily… I feel it. I can DEFINITELY do that…!’

    A childlike chuckle slipped from his lips. Lowering himself, he sprang into a backflip, twisting effortlessly through the air before landing gracefully.

    ‘WOAH..! I… I knew I could do that… but it feels so damn—’

    More laughter bubbled out of him.

    ‘FUN..!’

    His fists clenched. Excitement surged through his veins.

    ‘Alright… let’s think. I’m DEFINITELY jumping higher than I ever have in my life. One of these stats is responsible for that…’

    His eyes flicked to his status window.

    STAT POINTS AVAILABLE: 210 (+400)

    [Strength]: 20
    [Agility]: 40
    [Vitality]: 10
    [Perception]: 15
    [Intelligence]: 10

    ‘Hmm… The system guy said Strength increases how hard I hit and how heavy I lift…’

    Jiho’s gaze dropped to his legs.

    ‘That HAS to include how much I lift with my own body, right? No… that HAS to be it..!’

    “STRENGTH TO 40!”

    [Strength]: 20 → 40

    ‘ALRIGHT… NOW… NOW I SHOULD JUMP! ALL MY PHYSICAL STATS ARE EQUAL NOW—MEANING IT DOESN’T MATTER HOW HIGH I JUMP OR HOW HARD I LAND… I’LL BE FINE!’

    His ecstatic chuckle faded as he scanned the park, making sure no one was watching.

    ‘NOW… LIFTOFF!’

    He kicked off the ground with all his might.

    The playground shrank beneath him, his body soaring higher, higher, HIGHER—

    10 meters. The size of a small building.

    The cold night breeze rushed against his face.

    “IT… IT WORKED!! HA… HAHAHA!!” Jiho laughed aloud, twisting in the air as he took in the view.

    Then, the inevitable.

    Gravity called his number.

    ‘Alright… don’t freak out… The landing will be FINE…!’

    Jiho’s eyes flicked downward. The ground was rushing toward him fast.

    But something felt… off.

    A whisper in his mind.

    Something’s wrong.

    Something told him—

    The landing won’t be smooth at all.

    ‘SHIT—!!’

    His arms flew up to shield himself just as his body slammed into the ground.

    A sharp, bone-rattling impact.

    His legs cracked.

    “AHHK—!!! FUCK—!”

    Jiho curled into himself, arms clutching his legs as searing pain exploded through his body.

    A system prompt appeared.

    HP: 1,000/1,000 → -500HP!

    HP: 500/1,000

    ‘SO… SO MUCH… ERRGH… IT HURTS LIKE I REALLY LOST THAT MUCH… AHHH—!’

    “FUCK…!” His teeth clenched.

    “AGILITY WAS SUPPOSED TO LIGHTEN MY FALL, NO!? HEY, SYSTEM!”

    [Can’t help you from here, Boyo. Figure it out on your own.]

    “WHAT?!”

    [Growing as a player from here on out is on you. I already laid down the basics. You got this~]

    ‘FUCKER…’ Jiho exhaled through gritted teeth, pained and furious, as he forced himself to open his status window.

    STAT POINTS AVAILABLE: 190 (+400)

    [Strength]: 40
    [Agility]: 40
    [Vitality]: 10
    [Perception]: 15
    [Intelligence]: 10

    ‘Why did I get hurt…?!’

    His breath hitched. The word “hurt” reminded him of something—

    The system’s earlier explanation.

    Vitality.

    It controlled how much damage he could take and how fast he could heal.

    ‘Right… RIGHT…!’

    His chest heaved. His legs still throbbed, but the pain was already dulling.

    “VITALITY TO 100!”

    [Vitality]: 10 → 100 HP: 500/1,000 → 5,000/10,000 REGENERATION: HP/s: 10 → 100

    Jiho gasped for air.

    His head spun as a sensation washed over him—his body mending itself, strength returning.

    ‘Haaah… Haaah… I feel like the next time I jump, it’ll be fine… but I don’t feel like trying it again right now…’

    His body trembled. Common sense was screaming at him to rest.

    But then—

    “NO. Fuck that…!”

    Jiho gritted his teeth, forcing himself up, legs shaking beneath him.

    ‘I’m NEVER leaving things to chance again.’

    He took in one deep breath.

    ‘FUCK IT ALL…!’

    He jumped.

    Again.

    His body shot up into the night sky, reaching the same 15-meter height.

    This time, he didn’t take time to enjoy the air.

    His expression remained blank as he plummeted back down.

    “LAND WITH YOUR LEGS—!!”

    THUD.

    A deep shockwave spread through the sandy ground.

    This time—he landed.

    On his feet.

    His legs bent slightly, absorbing the impact. A small crater formed beneath him, his palm pressed against the ground—a second crater forming around it.

    A chuckle escaped him.

    ‘I did it…’

    Then, realization.

    ‘I… I did a real-life superhero landing…! Fuck yeah…!’

    Excitement surged through him again.

    ‘I see now… all of these work in equilibrium.’

    His mind raced.

    ‘I’m like a car. Strength is my engine—the power that drives me. Agility would be… hm, I guess my tires and suspension—how well I maneuver. But more strength means a higher risk of crashing… so I need stronger armor. That’s Vitality.’

    ‘I bet if I punched too hard, I’d hurt myself too if I didn’t increase my Vitality.’

    His eyes flicked to his stats.

    ‘I bet Perception is the same… Maybe it makes me more aware of my exact movements? Or how high I jumped—down to the decimal? I’ll have to test that next.’

    Then, another thought struck him.

    ‘… It said I could sense danger more accurately. I need that. I need that A LOT.’

    “Perception to 100.”

    [Perception]: 15 → 100

    The world shifted.

    The air moved differently. He could feel it—every subtle shift, every current brushing against his skin.

    Then, his senses exploded.

    He could smell it. The stale, stuffy air of a hikikomori’s sealed-off room—from a few blocks away.

    The distant laugh track of a TV show.

    The scent of nearly-spoiled refrigerated meat being microwaved in a house nearby.

    All at once.

    But it wasn’t overwhelming.

    ‘Huh… It’s like… I can turn it on and off whenever I want.’

    A chuckle left his lips.

    ‘I was hesitant because I thought I’d end up like Supreme-Human Hero Man when he first got his Super Hearing and collapsed from sensory overload. But… controlling it is kind of easy.’

    Then, he lowered his gaze.

    And he felt it.

    His own body.

    ‘I hear my muscles. I feel the blood flowing through them. How dense they’ve become. And—how much denser I could make them if I tensed them for a jump.’

    His lungs expanding.

    ‘I can tell for sure now… I could fall from a medium-sized building—maybe higher—and take no damage.’

    ‘My stats really do work in equilibrium…’

    ‘Wait…’

    ‘If that’s true… then isn’t it SUPER beneficial to keep all stats equal—no matter the class?!’

    Jiho’s eyes narrowed.

    ‘WHAT?! THEN WHAT’S THE POINT OF SEPARATE STATS?! EVERY PLAYER WITH HALF A BRAIN WOULD’VE FIGURED THAT OUT—!!’

    Before he could spiral further, a message prompt flickered out of sight.

    [To think it would take so long before a player actually experimented with their stats instead of mindlessly increasing them… Relying on their CLASSES to do the work for them.]

    [Boyo, if only you knew you were the only one to reach that conclusion so early… Haah.]

    [But I’m happy.]

    [Happy that you find power and strength… so alluring.]

    [I knew I made the right call choosing you.]

    ‘Huh…?’ Jiho’s senses tingled. ‘I can feel it… Two people breathing behind that building nearby…’

    His gaze flicked to the side. Thirty meters away. Two silhouettes—just barely visible.

    ‘I’m being watched…!’

    STAT POINTS AVAILABLE: 15 (+400)

    [Strength]: 40
    [Agility]: 40
    [Vitality]: 100
    [Perception]: 100
    [Intelligence]: 10

    BIG THANKS To my Patreon: 

    SparkyZinger

  • 36th Death: Confide

    ‘It’s tomorrow.’

    Eunhee lay in Daniel’s grasp under the sheets, her fingers curling into the fabric. ‘We’re going back to school.’

    ‘Daniel said it couldn’t have been Jiho… But it’s him. I… I know it is. I don’t know how he got so different. But… it’s him.’

    She bit her lip.

    ‘He’ll be there, right?’

    Her lips parted slightly.

    ‘Am I hopeful?’

    She frowned, pressing her forehead into the pillow.

    ‘Why? I know he’ll hate me. So, why…’

    She curled further into herself.

    ‘…Am I looking forward to seeing him again?’

    She shifted, curling even deeper into Daniel’s embrace.

    ‘I didn’t even talk to Jiho’s mom. She’ll be mad at me too.’

    A soft chuckle escaped her lips.

    ‘I bet his confession… and what Daniel… and I did to him- that’s the first thing he told her.’

    Another chuckle. Lighter, bitter.

    ‘If only it was another girl he crushed on. If only it wasn’t ME, he probably would’ve told me first. Hehe…’

    Her eyes softened.

    ‘I loved the way he looked at me. Like…’ Her breath stilled.

    ‘Like a little kid looking at his mother, ready to tell her everything.’

    A memory surfaced.

    “Eunhee… do you think I’m… messed up for thinking like this?”

    Jiho’s voice. Late at night. A park bench.

    She had smiled at him. “No. I think you’re just a little lost.”

    She clutched the sheets tighter.

    ‘I loved talking to him about everything. Even if he was smart enough to know it all on his own, he’d still listen to my advice like it was the most important thing in the world.’

    Her throat tightened.

    ‘That was cute. If we were a couple, I could’ve had that every day.’

    ‘But he won’t do that ever again.’ She frowned to herself.

    ‘He won’t tell us… Tell ME anything, anymore.’

    She buried her head into the sheets.

    ‘A shame…’

    She sobbed silently, hoping Daniel wouldn’t hear.

    But his eyes were lazily open, staring at the ceiling.

    Listening.

    ‘Tomorrow’s gonna be a bitch, huh?’ He sighed deeply.

    ——— ELSEWHERE ———

    “Yes, I’m fine… Me and Hyung are eating at a BBQ place. I’ll be back in a few minutes, alright?” Jiho reassured his mother, his voice steady as he sat on the ambulance bed.

    There was a brief pause.

    “R-right… L…” His voice softened. Lowered, “Me too. I’ll see you soon.”

    Jang chuckled.

    Jiho hung up, exhaling lightly before handing the phone back to one of the French paramedics.

    Marcel nodded, then turned back to face Jiho and Jang.

    “And so, because of that incident, we’ve arranged for you two to attend school together,” Marcel explained. “A newly established one—for children who lost their place due to the outbreak.”

    Jiho lay on the ambulance’s bed, the doctor still examining his arm.

    ‘It actually healed… in less than two hours.’ The paramedic thought in awe, raising his gaze to Jiho. ‘But that appetite afterward… he wiped out everything I had in the little fridge here. Guess that healing factor doesn’t come cheap.’

    Jang remained silent, arms folded, his gaze lowered, biting his lip.

    “Isn’t school tomorrow?” Jiho winced slightly as he adjusted his position. “When did you even have the time to set that up?”

    Marcel smirked. “Oh, it was hardly an inconvenience.”

    “…That’s not what I asked—”

    “Which class will I be in?” Jang cut in, his voice subdued, laced with an underlying growl.

    “A third year,” Marcel replied. “According to your records, that was about the time you were expelled, wasn’t it?”

    “…It was.” Jang’s fingers curled, tightening in silence.

    “Very well. Now, if you’re both well enough, you should return home.” Marcel turned to Jiho. “Monsieur Jiho, you especially should hurry. Your mother might worry, no?”

    Jiho pushed himself upright.

    “Yeah. Thanks for the help.”

    “Oh, don’t thank us just yet…” Marcel cleared his throat, tilting his head slightly.

    “They mentioned ‘player,’ ‘experience’… terms from video games. Would you happen to know anything about that?”

    “No—” Jang immediately said.

    “Yeah.”

    Their answers clashed.

    Their gazes snapped to each other.

    Jiho exhaled sharply. “Why not just tell them at this point? Why is your first instinct always to shut people out?”

    “Fuck you, that’s why.” Jang’s tone sharpened, his gaze burning into Jiho. “You forget how you saved these fucks. They should be licking your damn boots, bowing their heads, not daring to ask anything from you, bitch.”

    His voice rose, anger simmering beneath each word.

    “You let people get too comfortable being little bitches around you, and before you know it, they’ll be mopping the floor with you.”

    “They gave you a house!” Jiho shot back, his voice rising.

    “WHICH I NEVER FUCKING ASKED FOR!” Jang snarled.

    “…Kept your identity a secret,” Jiho added, his voice steadier now.

    “THAT’S—That’s just a ploy to get me on their side!” Jang shot up, his voice laced with frustration. “I can raise the dead to fight for me—WHO WOULDN’T want me on their side when shit goes down!? They’re just buttering you up because you’re useful.”

    “That’s RUDE, HYUNG! They’re GOOD people!”

    “ARE THEY!?”

    Jang stomped forward, his sudden movement startling Marcel and his two assistants. Before anyone could react, he shoved Jiho against the wall of the ambulance.

    One of the helpers instinctively tensed, ready to intervene, but Marcel rested a hand on his shoulder, shaking his head—a silent signal to let them sort it out themselves.

    Jang’s gaze burned into Jiho’s.

    “You really think they’re doing all this out of kindness, dumbfuck?” He shoved him harder against the cold metal, eliciting a grunt from Jiho.

    Jiho pressed his palms against Jang’s chest, trying to push back.

    …Failing.

    Jang let out a forced chuckle. “What? You still think you’re stronger than me?” His voice was low, almost mocking. “I’ve leveled up like a motherfucker, and you’re still holding yourself back, still insisting on not using your system. At this point, even if you did start using your system, you’d NEVER be able to get to my level with how much I grind.”

    His grip tightened.

    “You’ve outlived your worth, and I still bother with you—still talk to you like we’re equal.”

    He chuckled again. Jiho clenched his teeth, his eyes flickering with something he hated to recognize—uncertainty.

    Daniel’s voice crashed into his head.

    “I defended you through school and high school because I seriously believed a decent person would come out of you. But now? You come to me saying crap like that!?”

    A slap.

    Fear.

    “NOW, THAT’S kindness, right there!” Jang spat. “And if they were even a tiny bit as kind as I am, they would’ve done the same for more people. But it’s just us.”

    His jaw tightened.

    “Because we can still scratch their backs. But the moment we give them everything we know? We can’t do that anymore.” His eyes darkened. “And that’s it.”

    Jang clenched his teeth, a flicker of something bitter flashing across his face as he remembered his parents.

    “They’ll kick you like a dead cat in the face.” He raised his gaze to Jiho again.

    “And I don’t know what your story is with those Eunhee and Daniel,” Jang continued, voice low, testing. “But seeing as there are other Players besides us… who’s to say Eunhee and Daniel aren’t one of them, too?”

    Jiho’s breath hitched.

    Marcel whispered something to his two assistants, and they wordlessly stepped out of the ambulance, leaving Jiho and Jang alone.

    “That’s all it would take, right?” Jang’s gaze sharpened. He watched Jiho’s expression, reading every flicker of emotion. “One bite. One little slip. And Daniel goes right back to dominating your bitch-ass—just like he DEFINITELY used to do all the time.”

    Jiho’s fingers curled tightly around Jang’s grip, but he couldn’t budge him.

    Jang smirked.

    “Struck a nerve, huh?” His voice dropped into something taunting. “How about you use that rage mode of yours? Maybe then you could actually hurt me.”

    Then, the final push.

    “Bet Daniel’s not far from banging your momm—”

    Jiho’s hands shot up, grabbing Jang by the hair, “The f—” yanking his head back before slamming his forehead into his nose.

    “GRRRRRRGH!!!!” Jiho growled as Jang’s eyes squeezed shut, blood bursting from his nostrils.

    Jang stumbled back. Jiho dropped to his knees, panting, his breaths ragged with rage.

    “Now… Now you fucking done it… I’m gonna kill you, FUCKING TWINK..!!!” Jang snarled, wiping the blood from his face, his glare burning into Jiho as he scrambled to his feet.

    Jiho lifted his gaze.

    “You’re right, Hyung.”

    Jang flinched.

    “I needed this,” Jiho rasped, staring at his hands.

    “Buttering me up won’t work on me—”

    “I’d die before I let that happen.” Jiho raised his chin, his eyes sharp. “No more.”

    “You’re right,” he repeated, his tone even. Measured. “I didn’t use the system because I blindly relied on Daniel all my life—and in the end, that cost me. He betrayed my trust. After that, I refused to lean on someone else’s strength. I wanted to rely on my own. Maybe to prove to myself that I’m not the same helpless twink I was before all this…”

    His fists clenched, his gaze locking onto Jang.

    “But watching you go apeshit just because I have a different opinion made me realize something.” His voice darkened. Accusatory now.

    “Daniel could become as strong as us for no reason. And if I let my pride stop me from acting, history would repeat itself.

    “And you? You could lose your shit again, just like now, and step all over me—just because you WANTED to.”

    His expression darkened. Hostile now.

    “Or do something to the people I care about because you lost your fucking mind.”

    His mother flashed in his mind.

    “I can’t have that,” Jiho said, his voice firm.

    His mind snapped back—to that rooftop.

    Facing Eunhee. About to confess.

    Daniel’s grinning face behind her.

    The slap.

    Eunhee walking away, believing him to be a manipulative pig.

    Jiho’s breath hitched.

    “Fuck my pride and feelings.”

    “I CAN’T HAVE ANOTHER FUCKER STEPPING OVER ME BECAUSE I DIDN’T ACT FIRST.”

    His pupils shrank to near pinpricks. His pulse pounded like a war drum. His chest felt like it was about to burst from fury.

    “HEY. YOU.”

    [Sup, Boyo?]

    The message prompt flickered before his eyes—like it knew immediately he had referred to it.

    Jiho exhaled sharply.

    “I accept.”

    Jang’s blood dripped from Jiho’s forehead, staining his vision red.

    But his other eye saw clearly.

    “I’ll use the system. Tell me what to do.” He murmured.

    [… SHIIIIIIIIIIIEEET, BOYO. THAT’S ALL YOU HAD TO SAY!]

    “..!” Jang flinched, stepping back cautiously as several messages exploded before Jiho’s eyes.

    [SYSTEM UNLOCKED!]

    [MULTIPLE ACHIEVEMENTS UNLOCKED!]

    [MULTIPLE TITLES UNLOCKED!]

    [LEGENDARY SKILLS DUE TO ACHIEVEMENTS UNLOCKED!]

    [EXTRA EXP GRANTED DUE TO ACHIEVEMENTS]

    [SECRET CHALLENGE COMPLETED!]

    [YOU HAVE LEVELED UP!] ×49

    LEVEL: 50!

    STAT POINTS AVAILABLE: 250 (+400)

    Jiho looked past the messages at Jang.

    “I may be a twink,” he said, clenching his knuckles, his gaze cold.

    “But now, I’m a twink with a system. Just like you.”

    His voice dropped into a growl.

    “So if you wanna take a shot at me… come and get it, Hyung.”

    His breath was steady now. Focused.

    “I won’t hold back for the shit you just said.”

    BIG THANKS To my Patreon: SparkyZinger

  • 35th Death: Fight

    Hellool! Me again.
    At this point in the story, I figured it was time to diverge from the usual shounen-esque vibe where characters always resolve things with their fists – and instead lean more into Jiho’s empathetic, yet reasonable nature that his mother nurtured.

    That’s it! Hope you enjoy the chapter!

    “Yes. I’m really fine.” Jiho repeated, his voice steady but resigned, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he walked home.

    “I just had a fight with some of my former classmates. It’s… about what I told you. Daniel and Eunhee.” His tone was more composed now, measured.

    A pause.

    “Right… Alright. I’ll see you soon and tell you all about it. Bye, Mom.”

    He ended the call, slipping his phone into his pocket—then caught his reflection in a closed shop window.

    For a moment, he studied himself.

    Almost instinctively, his fingers twitched, tempted to fix his hair.

    ‘I should dress up for this date. I wonder if Daniel—’

    His own thought disgusted him. His face twisted in an instant, the image in his mind forcefully replaced with Jang.

    ‘…I wonder if hyung knows girl stuff? He was a bully, so he must’ve been a hit, right? Though… something tells me he’s full of shit.’

    A sigh escaped him.

    ‘Haah… What should I—’

    Then, something flickered in his peripheral vision.

    His reflection distorted—a massive figure barreling toward him from behind.

    ‘SHIT!’

    Jiho’s eyes went wide as instinct took over. He jumped aside just as a fist slammed into the shop window—

    BOOM.

    A shockwave tore through the air.

    The impact wasn’t just a hit—it was an explosion. The sheer force sent Jiho flying, the pressure knocking the breath out of him before he even registered the pain.

    “Gaaah!”

    He barely had time to cough before his body crashed into a nearby wall, rattling his bones.

    He gasped, lungs struggling to work again.

    “Haah… Haah… What…?”

    Through blurred vision, he looked up.

    From inside the wreckage, a giant stepped forward.

    Easily four meters tall, the man’s sheer bulk made the ground tremble with every step.

    Jiho’s breath hitched.

    ‘FUCK… IS THAT A ZOMBIE?!’

    Adrenaline surged through his veins. His body, battered and aching, moved before his brain could catch up. He forced himself upright, falling into a fighting stance.

    A low chuckle rumbled through the air.

    “You’re fast, runt. Good. This won’t be over quickly, then.”

    The hulking figure smashed his fists together, his grin stretching wide with wicked amusement.

    “You were right, Black.” He said, “He’s a player. This’ll be fun…”

    Another presence emerged from the shadows—a woman, draped in black, her silhouette razor-sharp against the dim light.

    Dark hair. Pale skin. Lips painted with a black lipstick.

    “Remember, Red.” Her voice was level, but her stare was piercing. “We kill him together. Only weaken him.” Her gaze flicked to Jiho, fancying herself dissecting him in a single glance. “And tell me when you’re done. I hate hearing people scream in agony.”

    Jiho’s stomach twisted.

    ‘Player… Shit.’

    He knew exactly what that word meant.

    Jang had a system. Eventually, he revealed it to Jiho. And Jiho…

    A flicker of text.

    [Well, Boyo.]

    Jiho’s breath hitched. That voice.

    His eyes snapped wide open.

    ‘You..!’

    [Feel like using me yet?]

    A moment of hesitation. That moment cost him.

    “Where are you looking, shrimp?!”

    A blur of motion.

    The punch ripped through the holographic message, dispersing it into scattered data. A mere inch from Jiho’s face.

    His instincts screamed.

    ‘I CAN’T DODGE—’

    He threw up his arms.

    The world shattered.

    A sound like a gunshot rang through the street as Red’s fist met Jiho’s guard. Bone gave way instantly.

    A sickening crack.

    Pain.

    It tore through Jiho’s limbs before his nerves could even register what had happened.

    The force was beyond anything human. Beyond comprehension.

    His entire body lifted off the ground before his brain could even process the impact. His ribs compressed. His lungs emptied. Even the air couldn’t resist fast enough.

    Then—detonation.

    The storefront behind him exploded as his body crashed through it.

    Glass and wood burst apart like a bomb went off. The world blurred—shelves, metal, concrete—all of it turned to debris in his wake.

    And then the wall.

    A second explosion of destruction as he was blasted through the back of the shop, his body exiting the other side like a bullet tearing through flesh.

    He hit the ground. Rolled.

    Skidded.

    Finally, he stopped.

    The silence rang louder than the destruction.

    Jiho lay in the wreckage, body twitching, eyes unfocused. For a brief moment, he wasn’t sure if he was even alive.

    Slowly, his gaze lifted, vision blurred. Shock settling in.

    What…

    What the fuck was that?

    A shadow loomed over him from the destruction he left behind.

    Red rolled his shoulders, cracking his knuckles with a manic grin. “Oh, man.” He exhaled, almost giddy.

    “You actually survived that?”

    “You…!!!” Jiho growled as he walked through the store, walking up to Jiho.

    [RAGE MODE AVAILABLE!!!] Jiho looked over it as he breathed frantically.

    “Feelin’ angry? Good. Go on, then. Show me what you got..!” Red urged as Jiho clenched his fists.

    ——-

    “Jang Seung-Woo, huh?”

    Jang muttered to himself as he studied his new ID, rolling the unfamiliar name over in his mind. The card felt light in his hands, but the weight of his new identity pressed down on him as he stepped into his apartment. The space was dark and unfamiliar, barely furnished. He sighed, rubbing a hand down his face as he leaned against the doorframe.

    “I almost fucked myself up.”

    Letting the exhaustion settle into his bones, he sank onto the floor, staring up at the ceiling.

    “Remember, Monsieur Jang. You mustn’t reveal your real last name. Jang Seun-Jae is currently missing. If anyone finds out he’s alive and… well, not crippled anymore, you’ll be hunted down. Your situation isn’t as mild as Monsieur Jiho’s. If someone found out about you, not only you—but also he—would be in danger.

    “Luckily, we managed to reach the ones you spoke to at the quarantine zone’s checkout and alter the name you’ve told them, but that was extremely difficult – as we needed to forge a new identity altogether. Please, be mindful.”

    Jang exhaled slowly, his thoughts drifting as he processed Marcel’s words.

    ‘So in the end, it’s not even about me. It’s because I’d be an inconvenience to that bitch if word got out.’

    His mouth curled into a grimace, though the emotion behind it felt forced.

    Since…

    …he didn’t even feel bad that Jiho was the reason he was being protected.

    ‘It FUCKING pisses me off.’

    He dragged his hands down his face, frustration simmering beneath his skin.

    ‘Why do I feel so—’

    His fingers clenched, nails pressing into his palms.

    ‘Because of that bitch, I can’t even get near Joon Seok… Fuck.’

    ‘FUCK…!!!’

    The name alone was enough to send a rush of adrenaline through his system. He expected the usual surge of fury, the need for revenge clawing at him.

    But instead—

    A shudder ran through him.

    A quiet relief settled in his chest.

    Because now, he wouldn’t have to face him.

    His fist slammed into the floor, a sharp crack splitting the silence.

    “I’M FUCKING STRONG NOW.”

    The words came out ragged, more to convince himself than anything else.

    “I’M NOT SCARED OF FUCKING ANYONE.”

    The words hung in the air, defiant and raw. But the room stayed silent.

    His breathing steadied. His fists, clenched with all the fury in his bones, began to loosen.

    ‘…Shit.’

    Leaning back, he let the cool surface of the wall press against his skin, grounding him.

    ‘I should’ve asked that bitch for his number…’

    A slow exhale.

    ‘At least I’d have someone to fucking yell at.’

    He closed his eyes for a second, willing the thoughts away. But they lingered.

    ‘It’s only been two hours. I’m not some weak-ass bitch. I don’t need anyone. So…’

    His gaze drifted toward the window.

    Jiho’s house was right there.

    Directly in front of him.

    His eye twitched.

    ‘WHY THE FUCK DID THEY PUT MY APARTMENT HERE!?!’

    His stomach twisted with frustration. ‘I left thinking the place they set up for me was FAR, FAR AWAY! WHY THE HELL DID IT HAVE TO BE RIGHT ACROSS THE STREET!?!’

    His fingers dug into his pockets, jaw tightening.

    ‘I had to sneak past that bastard just to get here. ME. HIDING. WHAT THE FUCK!?’

    With a sharp breath, he pushed himself off the wall, hands still buried in his pockets as he stalked toward the door.

    ‘Fuck it. I’ll go out. Get some BBQ. At least the French were generous with the cash.’

    His gaze lingered on it.

    He had his freedom. He could go anywhere, do anything.

    Yet the weight in his chest remained the same.

    …

    ‘Though I bet that BBQ wouldn’t even be the least bit as tasty as that bitch’s MILF’s cooking…’

    His jaw tensed as the thought crept in.

    Shaking his head, he willed it away.

    ‘…Jiho’s mom, I mean.’

    A small exhale left him. His hands sank deeper into his pockets. His expression softened for a fleeting moment before he scoffed at himself.

    ‘Whatever.’

    Pushing himself off the wall, he forced his mind toward something else.

    ‘I’ll go to a five-star restaurant and move on. I’m not some clingy idiot—’

    A sharp vibration cut through the silence.

    His phone.

    Without hesitation, he answered.

    “Fuck do you want?”

    His voice was stripped of patience, filled with quiet exasperation.

    “Monsieur Jang,” Marcel’s voice came through, urgent.

    “Monsieur Jiho needs your help. Urgently.”

    Jang froze.

    The haze, the irritation, the useless self-reflection—

    Gone.

    His body moved before his mind could even catch up.

    “I’m coming.”

    No hesitation. No doubt.

    Nothing else mattered.

    ———————–

    “Shit. They’re gonna kill him.”

    From the shadows of a nearby abandoned house, the two French spies Marcel had stationed whispered urgently.

    They were the ones who had cleaned up after Jiho’s incident—the so-called paramedics who took care of his classmates’ injuries.

    One of them adjusted the rifle slung across his chest. “We need to move. If he dies, the Young Lady will have it in for us.”

    “Wait.”

    The first spy, the one who had tended to Cha earlier, didn’t budge.

    His partner whipped around, incredulous. “What the hell are we waiting for!?”

    “I want to see,” he murmured, eyes fixed on the unfolding fight. “I told you, didn’t I? I want to see what he’s made of. That Jiho. Why she’s so… into him.”

    His partner’s face twisted in disgust. “This isn’t the time for one of your jealousy attacks.”

    “Don’t act like you’re not curious too.”

    The words struck something. His partner hesitated.

    A smirk.

    “What’s his special zombie power, huh?” His fingers tapped against the windowsill as he leaned in. “Monsieur Marcel conducted a thorough investigation, and turns out—there was another case like this in America. One with powers. This is an opportunity to learn.”

    His partner exhaled sharply, grip on his rifle tightening.

    “Fine.”

    His gaze followed Jiho’s battered, twitching body. Bloodied. Barely standing.

    ‘And if he dies here… the Young Lady won’t have to waste her time on this nobody. Nor will we have to follow his sorry ass around 24/7.’

    A quiet grimace tugged at his lips.

    ‘He’s probably just a brat who has nothing but some fancy superpower gimmick. You’re not good enough for her.’

    His fingers curled.

    ‘All you have is some special power you’ll probably lose control of—’

    “FUCKING IDIOT.”

    A sharp, guttural snarl came from Jiho’s bleeding mouth.

    The spy’s thoughts screeched to a halt.

    ‘…Huh?’

    Red exhaled through his nose, shaking his head.

    “Haaah… Look at him, Black. He’s swearing—”

    “I’m stating.. a FACT…!” Jiho growled, barely sparing the flickering system message a glance.

    Red smirked. “Insults, insults… You won’t hurt me with your mouth, runt. So swing your fists—”

    “ACTUAL SMOOTH-BRAIN.” Jiho cut him off, exasperation leaking into his voice.

    Red rolled his shoulders. “Alright, I get it. So get up—”

    Jiho’s breathing was ragged, his ribs flaring with pain. His blood-slicked fingers twitched.

    “Both of you…” he wheezed, forcing himself upright. “I have never—in my life—come across anyone so profoundly, irredeemably, mentally handicapped.”

    Black flinched, irritation flickering in her face.

    “You think you’re clever, huh!?” Red grabbed Jiho by the collar, yanking him up like a ragdoll. Jiho’s ribs screamed in protest.

    “Say that to my face—”

    Jiho’s bloodied lips curled into a snarl, teeth grinding. His arms hung limp, bone grotesquely protruding.

    “Fucking idiot.” His voice was razor-sharp. “An inbred has more IQ in a single hemisphere than the two of you combined. I bet your family tree isn’t even a tree—just a DNA spiral looping in on itself.”

    Red’s smirk disappeared.

    “Okay,” he said flatly, voice eerily calm. “Forget the ‘fight to the death’ bullshit. I’ll just bash your skull in.”

    His grip tightened. His other fist cocked back, ready to cave Jiho’s face in.

    Jiho sucked in a breath. “ACTIVATE RAGEM—”

    A sharp voice cut through.

    “You’re really insistent on calling us that.”

    Black stepped forward, eyes gleaming as she studied him in reluctant irritation.

    Both Red and Jiho glanced at her.

    “HOW COULD I NOT!?” Jiho barked, his glare drilling into her. She flinched. “LOOK AROUND YOU! ATTACKING ME IN BROAD DAYLIGHT!? YOU DO REALIZE EVERYONE HERE IS ON STRICT WATCH BECAUSE OF THE ZOMBIE OUTBREAK, RIGHT!?” His breath came ragged, fury boiling over.

    “LOOK AT THE CAMERAS! Forget how my life is fucked now that I took a hit like that in plain view AND LIVED—but you two certified brain donors had the absolute lack-of-processing-power and had crayon-muncher here transform into a circus attraction in the middle of the street!!?”

    Black hesitated, eyes darting around. Jiho could see the moment realization hit her—her half-lidded gaze flicking to the blinking street cameras.

    “Uh… Ah…” She stiffened.

    Jiho sneered. “What, should I teach you serial-killing 101!? You pair of developmentally stunted morons!?”

    Red’s jaw ticked.

    ‘Huh.’ The two French spies thought in unison as they watched.

    Jiho wasn’t done.

    “Acting like this is some—some fighting manhwa—calling yourselves ‘Red’ and ‘Black’ like it makes you sound cooler than the absolute half-wits you actually are!?”

    Black scoffed, arms folding over her chest. “It’s to protect our identity—”

    “OHHH!! EXCUUUUUUUUUSE ME!” Jiho threw his head back mockingly. “I FORGOT—FACIAL RECOGNITION DOESN’T EXIST! NOPE! NO SUCH THING AS THOUSANDS OF EXPERTS ANALYZING EVERY PIXEL OF A PERSON’S FACE CAUGHT ON CAMERAS! NOT IN WHATEVER GODFORSAKEN BACKWATER HELLHOLE YOU TWO CRAWLED OUT FROM!”

    Black flinched, looking away like a scolded child.

    Red exhaled through his nose, adjusting his grip as he held Jiho aloft. “Doesn’t matter, runt.”

    Jiho’s glare snapped to him.

    “Once we kill you,” Red continued, voice low and firm, “we get experience points. Get stronger. Rule this world and—”

    “WATCHING YOUR BACKS 24/7!!!”

    Jiho cut him off, his eye twitching. “I HOPE TO GOD ZOMBIFICATION CAME WITH THE ABILITY TO NEVER SLEEP, BECAUSE THE SECOND YOU CLOSE YOUR EYES, THE GOVERNMENT IS GONNA SWARM YOU TWO LOBOTOMITES AND EXPERIMENT ON YOU, BEING THE FREAKSHOW THAT WE ARE.”

    For the first time, even Red flinched, his grip on Jiho loosening as his gaze darted away.

    “SO GO AHEAD. KILL ME.” Jiho’s breath came in ragged gasps, his entire body trembling from exertion. “ADD A MURDER CHARGE—THAT’LL SURELY PUT YOU ON THE NICEST OF TERMS WITH THE SAME GOVERNMENT THAT’LL HUNT YOU DOWN LIKE LAB RATS.”

    A moment of silence.

    Then—

    “… R-r… Red… Let’s run.”

    Black’s voice barely rose above a whisper. Her bravado had completely crumbled, her face paling as she took an uneasy step back. “L-leave… h-him here.” Her wide eyes flicked toward the approaching figures in the distance.

    Red hesitated, his jaw clenched. Then, with a reluctant growl, he dropped Jiho onto the rubble and took a step back.

    Jiho’s stern, unwavering gaze never left their faces.

    Red exhaled sharply, then grabbed Black and turned away.

    ‘You… YOU FUCKING… BASTARD…!’

    Black’s face burned red—not from exertion, but from pure, seething humiliation.

    ‘I’ll remember this…!’

    Her teeth dug into her lip as she shot Jiho one last glare before Red took off, dashing away with her in his arms.

    ‘Haaah… Haaah… This is bad… I’m… Blacking out…’ Jiho’s consciousness then faded, his head slumping against the rubble.

    From the abandoned house, the reluctant spy let out a snort. Then—

    “Pfft…”

    A chuckle.

    Then full-blown laughter.

    “HAHAHAHA… Hahaha… Haaa… I take it all back. If the Young Lady won’t date him, I WILL.”

    Grinning, he wiped a tear from his eye and ran a hand through his hair.

    “Come on…” He let out a slow breath. “Let’s get him out of here before someone gets a good look at him.”

    Jang stepped forward, standing over Jiho’s battered form; having watched the end of the scuffle from nearby.

    ‘Somehow… I know how that hulk and Princess Emo feel.’

    His gaze lingered on Jiho, now completely unconscious, his body twisted in the rubble. Jang winced at Jiho’s broken bones and injuries.

    ‘Fucking idiot.’

    With a grunt, Jang crouched and hauled Jiho up into a princess carry.

    ‘If anyone sees you healing in a few hours, they’ll start asking questions… Where to go now?’

    His eyes flicked up.

    Ahead, two figures approached—the French spies.

    Jang’s expression darkened.

    ‘…The fuck are these guys?’

    BIG THANKS To my Patreon: SparkyZinger

  • 34th Death: Cha, Cha, Real Smooth

    “That fucker’s gonna pay.” One of the guys muttered, sitting near the ambulance where Cha was being treated.

    “You saw it, right? He actually fucking hit her.” Another hissed, his hands clenched into fists. “Daniel was right about him all along. Hiding his shit until now.”

    “Shit… He’s a weak bastard. Only got me because he caught me off guard. And to think I was actually—” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Fucking WORRIED for that prick.”

    A paramedic kneeled beside Cha, checking her bleeding nose as the others kept talking.

    “He’s too strong now. That’s not normal. I bet he’s a zombie—pretending to be human.” One of them leaned in, his voice lowering. “Look at his before form and now. That has to be it.”

    “Motherfucker’s trying to pose as a human…” Another one muttered darkly. “We need to report that.”

    Their hushed voices halted as the paramedic suddenly spoke.

    “Hm…” His calm tone cut through their murmuring, drawing their attention.

    He turned to Cha, his gaze steady. “Ms. Cha, right?” He asked, prepping a clean cloth for her nose.

    She nodded, meeting his eyes.

    “It’s just a flesh wound,” he said smoothly, his voice composed. “You burst a vein, that’s all.”

    Cha exhaled, her shoulders relaxing as she kept staring at him.

    ‘Woah… he’s a hottie.’

    “Here,” he continued, gently pressing the cloth into her hands. “Hold this against your nose, alright? And don’t lean back—lean forward. You want the blood out, not going back inside.”

    ‘Well, that blood is definitely going elsewhere right now…’ she thought, her face warming with a blush as he turned away.

    Then, without missing a beat, he addressed the group.

    “As for what you were saying, fellas,” he glanced at them, his tone unreadable, “why exactly would the guy who attacked her be a zombie?”

    “Uhm… Because—! Look at that fucker before!” One of the guys blurted out, quickly pulling up Jiho’s Fabbook profile on his phone.

    “That’s his old picture. Look at him! Total twink.” He scoffed, swiping to another photo. “Now… look at his recent one. The one that blew up on Inftabram.”

    The paramedic leaned in slightly, rubbing his chin.

    “Ooh… Striking change. But…” His eyes flicked between the images. “This was after the outbreak, right?” His voice carried a note of curiosity.

    “Yes…” One of the girls nodded hesitantly. “He… uh… got bitten and ran straight toward the quarantine zone.”

    “Oh?” The paramedic’s brows lifted slightly. “You know that for sure?”

    “YEAH!” One of the guys cut in. “I mean, he had to have been! We saw it happen! Even though it was from afar, there was so much blood!”

    The paramedic exhaled through his nose, tilting his head.

    “Hmm… Couldn’t it have just been a nasty bruise? Or, since he was running away from zombies, maybe it was their blood?”

    A brief silence.

    “I mean…” The guy hesitated. “It could be… But why the hell are you protecting him!? Look at what he did!”

    “I agree,” another added. “Even if it was an accident, this was uncalled for—and unforgivable.”

    The paramedic shrugged, crossing his arms.

    “Unfortunate, yes,” he admitted, “but I wouldn’t say I’m protecting him. I’m protecting you from making a claim that could ruin his life—which would, in turn, make you fine young fellows look like a laughingstock.” His voice remained smooth, but his gaze sharpened. “And believe me, I’ve experienced that firsthand. I’d rather not see anyone else go through it.”

    The group exchanged glances.

    “Besides,” the paramedic continued, “you said he was in the quarantine zone, no?”

    Everyone leaned in slightly, their attention fully on him now.

    “In extreme situations,” the paramedic explained, “the body adapts. Quickly. Raging hormones, constant survival stress… That kind of pressure can trigger a rapid transformation, even without a nasty bite-wound. All that adrenaline, all those life-or-death moments—they change a person.”

    A brief pause.

    “…R… Really?” One of the guys muttered, his voice noticeably less certain.

    “Indeed. It’s quite common, actually!” The paramedic said with a relaxed smile.

    “Huh… I… Thanks for letting us know… But…” One of the guys hesitated, his brows furrowed. “He’s really different now. Is that really possible?”

    The paramedic tilted his head slightly. “I’m a paramedic. Why would I make this up?”

    A pause.

    “…You have a good point,” the guy muttered. His jaw tensed. “But I still won’t forgive that fucker. He deserves payback.”

    The paramedic exhaled, his tone remaining effortlessly calm.

    “Well… That just means more work for me,” he said, shrugging. “But I suppose I can’t stop you. Just—”don’t go too far, alright?”*

    Something about the way he said it made Cha’s stomach twist.

    ‘That’s… weird.’ Her eyes narrowed slightly. ‘I’ve never seen a paramedic encourage violence like that… He didn’t even try to lecture us.’

    “As for you, Missy,” he suddenly turned to her, tilting her chin up gently with his fingers.

    “Ah—” Cha gasped, her face flushing at the unexpected touch.

    “Try to keep that chin down for me, alright?” His voice softened, his thumb barely grazing her skin. “I wouldn’t want to see that pretty face bruised again.”

    “Oh… S-sure… O-oppa…” she stammered, heat rushing to her cheeks.

    The paramedic gave a small smirk before stepping back and pulling off his latex gloves in one smooth motion.

    “Do you all need a lift?” He asked, his gaze sweeping across the group.

    “No… Thank you, oppa.” They bowed slightly.

    With a small nod, he turned and strode toward the ambulance.

    As soon as he was inside, he let out a deep sigh.

    “Haah… What a bother.” He muttered in French, shaking his head slightly. His tone was almost amused.

    “Our young lady sure is overprotective of this Jiho fella. I wonder…” His gaze flickered as he leaned back, resting an elbow against the seat. “What exactly did he do to win her over like that?”

    Then, his expression shifted—his eyes gleaming with quiet curiosity.

    “Either way,” he turned to the driver, his voice smooth, calculated. “You can tell Monsieur Marcel that he’s in the clear. No need to do anything… extreme to keep them quiet.” His lips curled slightly.

    “And,” he added, “if possible—I’d like to meet this Jiho myself. See what kind of person he really is.”

    The driver nodded once and dialed Marcel’s number as the ambulance pulled away from the scene.

    Meanwhile—

    Marcel leaned against his desk, phone pressed to his ear.

    “I see… Thank you.” He murmured before hanging up and then immediately, he dialed another number.

    “Yes, My Lady. Have no fear. We took care of it.” Marcel’s voice was steady, assured.

    “Please—do as you see fit.”

    A faint smile touched Amélie’s lips as she stood at a distance, watching Jiho carefully.

    The way he nervously checked his phone before calling someone.

    She couldn’t hear what he said, but she recognized one word as he spoke.

    Mom.

    Her lips parted slightly, something warm curling in her chest.

    ‘So… he’s talking to his mother. Quite a mommy’s boy, aren’t you?’

    She watched as he hung up.

    And then how the phone rang again.

    How his fingers hesitated. Then – a slow, knowing smile curved on her lips as she stepped forward.

    Well… I don’t hate it. She thought before calling out.

    “Tu devrais lui répondre.”

    Jiho stiffened at the sudden voice.

    By the time he turned, she was already walking toward him, closing the distance with an easy, confident stride.

    His eyes widened as he took in her presence—a neat yet casual dress, the scent of chamomile drifting through the air. Before he could react, she abruptly sat beside him, barely an inch separating them.

    “Ah… Amélie, right? I’m… uh…”

    She simply smiled and lifted her phone, speaking into it.

    A second later, her phone repeated her words in Korean.

    “You should answer her.”

    Jiho looked down, startled, his eyes landing on his mother’s contact on the screen.

    “Uh… Ah… I don’t think that’s a good ide—”

    Before he could finish, Amélie swiftly pressed the phone next to his mouth, cutting him off. His heartbeat spiked at the sudden proximity, his gaze flickering to her slender, smooth fingers holding the device in place. The scent of chamomile grew stronger, surrounding him.

    Glancing down, he noticed what appeared to be a speech recognition app running on her phone.

    He hesitated, uncertain of how to react. Amélie, however, simply nodded at him—almost too eagerly, urging him to speak.

    Still caught off guard, Jiho reluctantly complied, his voice coming out slow, exaggerated, and awkwardly loud.

    “Uh… AYYE doooon’t theeenk it’s a goooood eye-dee-ahh.”

    The moment the words left his mouth, Jiho felt ridiculous.

    Amélie giggled, clearly amused, before pressing her phone to her ear, still smiling as she listened to the translated response in French.

    Then, she spoke again, and the phone relayed in Korean:

    “Why not?”

    Before he could react, she pinned the phone to his mouth again, prompting him to answer.

    Jiho glanced at the voice recognition software, then frowned.

    “It’s personal.”

    Amélie pouted at his response, but her eyes remained sharp, studying him.

    “Would you like me to leave, then?”

    He tensed.

    “What? I—” His voice hardened, instinctively defensive. “Who even SAID ANYTHING ABOUT—”

    But then, he met her gaze—calm, expectant, unwavering.

    His shoulders dropped slightly.

    “That’s not fair, asking that… Are you trying to make me feel even worse?” His words came slower this time, more measured.

    She listened, tilting her head slightly before letting out a small, amused growl.

    Then, she spoke again, and the phone’s monotone voice played out the words:

    “Why didn’t you call me?”

    Jiho blinked and his pulse skipped.

    ‘She… was looking forward to it?’ He thought.

    He hesitated before exhaling slowly, watching as she once again pinned the phone near his mouth, waiting.

    A long pause.

    “I’m… I’m sorry.” His voice was quieter this time. “You deserved at least a thank you.”

    She listened, pressing the phone to her ear.

    Then, she let out an almost disappointed sigh.

    Jiho stiffened, fists clenching.

    And then—she pinned the phone near his mouth again.

    She didn’t even respond.

    She looked tired. Bored. As if she had expected more.

    Something sharp twisted inside Jiho.

    His irritation surged as he abruptly but gently snatched the phone from her hand.

    Amélie’s eyes widened slightly at the sudden action.

    He didn’t care.

    He stared down at the phone, his jaw tight. Then, with a heated glare, he spoke into it, his voice laced with frustration.

    “I didn’t call you; because I wanted to hit on you.” His fingers curled slightly around the device.

    “And I don’t even know why I wanted to. Since I don’t even LIKE you.” His heartbeat was loud in his ears.

    “And you… for what you and Marcel did for me after me and Jang left, I figured…” He exhaled sharply.

    “You deserved more than that. Especially considering I barely know you. So I didn’t call. Y-You got a problem with that?”

    The moment the words left his mouth, he felt bare.

    Jiho looked away as he returned the phone, his hands colder than before.

    She listened, silent.

    When she finally looked at him, her gaze had softened.

    Jiho, still avoiding her eyes, fidgeted slightly. The tension in his shoulders lingered, but a new kind of heat crept onto his face.

    Then—she sighed.

    Smug.

    She raised an eyebrow as she spoke into the phone again.

    A moment later, the voice translation played:

    “You think someone like YOU has any chance with me? Wake up.”

    Jiho froze, and for a moment, the words didn’t process.

    Then, he glanced up at her. Something about the flat, robotic voice repeating her insult, perfectly matching her mocking expression… Caused his face to twitch.

    Then, his shoulders loosened. A laugh bubbled up in his throat before he could stop it.

    He turned away, trying—failing—to hold it in.

    Amélie watched him struggle, a quiet chuckle escaping as she placed a gentle hand over her lips.

    Jiho leaned back against the bench, casually taking the phone from her as she handed it over.

    “You underestimate my power,” he said, smirking.

    Amélie chuckled again, shaking her head. “Oh no, the puppy learned to bark. I’m almost drooling.”

    Jiho laughed, tilting his head back to look at the sky, her presence still beside him.

    His gaze drifted downward, catching sight of her hand resting freely on the bench.

    For a fleeting moment, he considered holding it.

    ‘No… That’d be weird now. I’ve already blown any minuscule chance I had with her anyway.’

    He pulled his hand back, even taking care to avoid brushing against hers.

    Unbeknownst to him, Amélie noticed the hesitation—and, ever so slightly, pouted.

    Jiho shifted, pulling out his phone and typing something into Boogdle-Translate.

    Amélie hummed in curiosity, her gaze flickering toward the screen as the soft glow illuminated his face.

    He hesitated before turning to her—then awkwardly looked away, clearing his throat.

    “Merci pour voter ai… deh. Transmeh…sttez mes salutations à Marcel.” His attempt at French was clumsy, each syllable spoken with hesitation, as he struggled to properly express his thanks to her and Marcel for their help.

    A brief silence followed. Then, from her phone, the speech software responded in monotone:

    “Never try to speak French ever again, please; that would be the best way to thank me. That was horrible.”

    Jiho flinched slightly.

    “Yeah… maybe that’s a good idea,” he muttered, pressing his lips together awkwardly.

    Amélie glanced at him before speaking into her phone again. A moment later, the translated voice echoed from her side:

    “I’m gonna leave now. Call your mother, okay? And… don’t worry too much. If anyone has a problem with you, we’ll take care of you. Our family’s really powerful, after all. Consider it thanks for saving me and Marcel. Anyway, just hurry up and return to her.”

    Jiho sighed, leaning back against the bench.

    ‘Huh. What an odd thing to say, considering what happened with Cha and her friends… But I guess I shouldn’t overthink it…? Well, anyway, that’s that for my relationship with her. Damn, she’s even talking to me like I’m a child.’

    “OK,” he said, closing his eyes for a moment. Then, with a smirk, he added in exaggerated Engrish, “I WILL DO IT.”

    Stretching, he let out a quiet breath. ‘Well, I’m not gonna see Amelie again soon, that’s for sure…’

    Amélie’s footsteps grew quieter as she walked away.

    Before he even looked at his phone, it rang.

    He already knew.

    “Yes, Mom… I’m fine.” He answered as he pinned the phone to his ear, “I’m coming back soon—”

    His breath caught as another voice, soft and measured, cut through the line.

    “Tomorrow, at 6 p.m.”

    His eyes widened.

    “H-huh…?”

    The whisper was in Korean—clumsy, yet carrying a familiar elegance.

    “I’ll pick you up…”

    Jiho stared at his phone.

    The caller ID showed Amélie.

    She was still walking away, smiling—her cheeks dusted pink as she spoke; while she watched his flustered reaction

    She was still walking away, smiling—her cheeks dusted pink as she spoke; while she watched his flustered reaction.

    ‘Haah… W… What…’ His cheeks flushed as his face then felt warm, his breath hitching as he processed her words.

    ‘She… Asked me out, just now..!?’

    https://www.youtube-nocookie.com/embed/EWBLyKB9Ok8?rel=0&showinfo=0&enablejsapi=1

    BIG THANKS To my Patreon:

    SparkyZinger

  • 33rd Death: The Call

    He sprawled on the bed, raising his phone to his face, staring at her name.

    At Amelie’s.

    ‘…Right, I want to call her.’ His thumb hovered over her contact.

    ‘I do want to call her, right?’ He exhaled.

    ‘I don’t even miss her that much.’

    With a sigh, he dropped the phone onto his chest, staring at the ceiling.

    ‘I barely know her. She gave me this phone and had Marcel wait for me outside the Zone. We barely talked… No, we CAN’T even talk, since she doesn’t know Korean. The only things I know about her are that she’s cute and French.’

    ‘…’

    His grip tightened around his phone.

    ‘Right. That’s all that matters anyway. She’s cute. Isn’t that enough?’ He forced her image into his mind. ‘I’ll just call her.’

    He raised the phone again, thumb hovering over her name.

    ‘But then what?’ His heartbeat picked up.

    ‘Do I ask her out?’ He swallowed hard, his pulse thudding in his ears. ‘Do I Boogdle-translate what I want to say to her?’

    ‘Is that what I do? That’s what I need to do, right? That’s what I SHOULD do.’ He cleared his throat, staring at her name.

    ‘…No. Fuck that. It’s not worth it.’ He let out a deep sigh, tension leaving his shoulders.

    ‘Ahh. Goddamn it. It’s just a phone number. Marcel just wanted me to thank her. Just fucking thank her. Why am I making this so difficult NOW?’

    ‘I’ll just text her… No, but I’m looking better now, so I can definitely win her over. I’m buff now thanks to the infection, and my face looks even better. Why am I even THINKING about it? Daniel probably didn’t even hesitate before making moves on Eunhee under my nose—and he WON her over for it. Just…’

    He pinned the phone against his eyes, clenching them shut in frustration.

    ‘…Just tell her what you feel already.’

    But instinctively, Eunhee’s face surfaced in his mind.

    ‘…Like you should’ve done. If you’d just said something months ago…’ His expression tensed. ‘Would you have told me something else, Eunhee?’

    ‘Fuck. FUCK…’

    He tossed the phone aside and stared at the ceiling.

    “Haah… That tsundere hyung didn’t even give me his phone number. Damn it.” He rolled his eyes at Jang, as if he were in the room with him.

    “Guess I’ll go for a walk. Maybe scout the new school I’m going to.”

    With a quick push, he got up, ducked down to grab his phone, and left the room.

    “Mom, I’m going out. Be back soon,” Jiho said as he walked down the stairs.

    “Oh? I thought you needed to lie down?” she asked casually.

    “Uh… I need to clear my head. Just a walk around the neighborhood. I won’t go far,” he said as he neared the door.

    “Promise me.” Her voice came abruptly, her face still turned toward the kitchen. “And be back soon.”

    ‘The fuck’s her problem!? I’m just going out, aren’t I?!’ He momentarily clenched his teeth.

    “Fine,” he muttered, opening the door and stepping outside, holding himself back from slamming it.

    …And he felt bad for it.

    ‘Why… was I so angry…?’ Jiho stormed out of the yard, his steps quickening. ‘Why am I angry for not bashing THAT FUCKING door in her face?!’ His jaw tightened as his pace picked up.

    ‘Just… everything’s so FUCKED. That piece of shit hyung infected me with his anger issues, I bet.’ Jiho frowned, shoving his hands deeper into his jacket pockets, his fingers curling into fists.

    “Holy shit… You’re right, it’s really him!”

    His head snapped up.

    A group of teens loitered at a distance, their eyes locking onto him.

    “He’s ALIVE!”

    ‘Ah… Those pricks are from my school.’ Jiho recognized them instantly. ‘I wouldn’t forget any of your faces. Fucking bastards.’

    His fingers tensed, pressing against the fabric of his pockets as they drew closer.

    ‘Bring it on. You want to fight, right? Good. I’ve been dying to test this out on you fuckers before I take it out on Daniel.’

    And yet—his pulse pounded in his ears. His breath felt too shallow. His body felt too light, too ready—like he was on the verge of bolting, not attacking.

    ‘Shit… why am I so scared!?’ His heart jackhammered against his ribs. ‘Get yourself together! You fought hundreds of zombies back in the zone, EACH ONE leagues above these punks in strength!’

    But his body wasn’t convinced. The memories of getting cornered, the gut instinct of helplessness—it clashed against the logic of his new power.

    They came closer. Jiho barely registered their faces anymore, only moving shadows, closing in.

    ‘Get ready… Shit… GET READY—!’

    His breath hitched. His fists clenched. His glare burned ahead of him, but his vision blurred, tunneling into nothing.

    ‘I’m not scared of a fight anymore…!’ Jiho repeated in his head, his breath shaking. His vision blurred as the memory seared into him—Daniel’s slap, the sting of it, the way he could only call out Eunhee’s name like a fool before they both walked away.

    ‘I’m NOT…!’ He repeated again, his legs locking in place as the group nearly surrounded him now.

    “You—” Jiho’s voice cracked, rising in raw defiance—

    “Are you okay, man?”

    The words hit him like a slap to the face.

    His breath hitched, the darkness cluttering his vision easing just slightly.

    “A… ah… W-what…?” His chest heaved as he struggled to process the moment, his surroundings sharpening bit by bit.

    No resentment in their eyes.

    Just confusion. Maybe even… concern?

    “Jiho, right? Jiho An?” A girl stepped forward hesitantly. “That’s you, right?”

    Jiho’s fingers twitched. His instincts screamed at him to stay on edge.’

    His gaze flicked around, muscles still tense. Five people. Two girls. Three guys.

    “…Ah… What do you want?” His voice came out hoarse, guarded.

    “Shit, calm down, man!” One of the guys said from behind, reaching out and tapping Jiho’s back.

    A touch.

    His vision whited out.

    In an instant, Jiho whipped around, and before his brain could catch up—his body moved first.

    In a blur, the guy was slammed against the nearby wall.

    “WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT FROM ME!?” Jiho roared, his fingers clawing into fabric, his grip crushing as he pinned the teen by the shirt.

    “GAAH—!”

    “Suho!” Someone shouted, panic in their voice.

    “WHAT!?” Jiho’s voice cracked with rage, his breath ragged. “HAVEN’T HAD ENOUGH CALLING ME NAMES BEHIND MY BACK!? WELL, NEWS FLASH, BASTARD—YOU WON’T GET ME SO EASILY THIS TIME! AHH!!? TELL DANIEL I’M NOT FUCKING SCARED OF HIM!”

    His grip tightened, his muscles coiled with fury.

    Suho choked, his hands gripping at Jiho’s wrist as his feet barely touched the ground.

    “Shit—!” The boy gasped, his face twisting in pain as Jiho lifted him higher, his arm trembling from the sheer force.

    “Let Suho go!” A girl yelled, grabbing Jiho’s arm.

    “LET GO OF ME!” Jiho snapped, his instincts flaring too fast for reason to catch up.

    Before he even realized it—his palm cracked across her face.

    “Gah—!”

    She stumbled back hard, her hands flying to her nose.

    Blood; bright red, dripping between her fingers.

    Jiho’s chest tightened, his breath hitching.

    “Shit—Cha’s hurt!” Someone rushed to her side, panic rising.

    “THE FUCK’S YOUR PROBLEM!?” One of the guys shouted, stepping between Jiho and Cha, glaring hard. “WE JUST WANTED TO TALK!”

    Cha’s hand trembled as she held her nose, her eyes glassy with shock.

    “Shit… That’s a lot of blood…” one of them muttered, fumbling for their phone. “Call someone!”

    Jiho took one step back, then another. His stomach dropped. His fingers trembled. His pulse thundered in his ears.

    “Call someone.”

    The words rang like a death sentence in his head. His breath sharpened, his whole body buzzing with dread.

    ‘Haah… Fuck… Fuck…! DAMN IT ALL!’

    Before he could process it—

    He ran.

    The world blurred around him as his feet pounded against the pavement. He didn’t stop, didn’t think—just ran.

    He didn’t know how long he kept going until his legs burned, until his breath came in choked bursts, and by the time he stopped, he was alone.

    A bench.

    The park.

    The place where he, Eunhee, and Daniel used to hang out.

    Jiho’s gaze drifted to the sandbox. The one he used to dig holes in, piling up sand like it meant something.

    ‘…Too bad I’m too old for this now.’

    He let out a slow breath and sank onto the bench, leaning back as his eyes wandered up to the sky.

    The cold air pressed against his skin.

    A minute passed, then, he pulled out his phone.

    “…Mom?” Jiho’s voice came out quiet.

    “Yes, baby? Is everything alright?” Her voice was warm. Like it always was.

    Jiho pressed the phone against his ear, hunching over, resting his elbows on his knees.

    “Don’t… Don’t open the door to anyone but me from now on, okay?” His voice wavered as he ran a hand over his face.

    “Why, baby? What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

    “Just… I… Haah…” He froze.

    ‘No… I can’t tell her what happened. What if she’s scared of me?’

    His mind flashed back to Cha’s wound, to the blood trailing down her fingers.

    ‘Is… Is that girl okay?’ In the distance, he heard it; The sound of an ambulance.

    A lump formed in his throat.

    “I should leave the house, Mom…” His voice cracked. “I… I don’t want to hurt you…”

    A pause.

    Then, her voice came, steady and sure.

    “…Baby, you can never hurt me. You know that. And I know that. Please… Just tell me what’s wrong?”

    Jiho clenched his jaw and hung up the call, his hand tightened around the phone as he shoved it into his pocket.

    ‘You fucked up. You fucked up big time.’ He thought as his nails dug into his palms.

    ‘They’ll probably involve the police… My life is over.’

    His phone rang. Jiho stared at it – it was his mom again.

    His thumb hovered over the reject call button.

    “Tu devrais lui répondre.” A voice called from nearby. Soft, familiar; yet decisive and steady.

    BIG THANKS To my Patreon: SparkyZinger

  • 32nd Death: Yes, Really!

    “Is this another drama attack?” Jiho sighed.

    “YOUR MOM’S A FUCKING—”

    “…”

    “… No. No drama. Just go back to your cutesy life with your mommy.” Jang exhaled, leaning against the wall outside, eyes squinting at the sun. “With how strong you are, you should be able to beat the shit out of Eunhee and Daniel. They pissed you off enough to kick me out, right?”

    Jiho studied him for a moment before stepping beside him, stretching his neck. “It’s not like I wanted to kick you out… or even did. It’s just personal.”

    “Yeah? Well, this is MY personal shit. So now I’m kicking YOU the fuck out.” Jang spat.

    Jiho exhaled. “I’m sorry, I guess. Didn’t mean to make you feel bad. It’s just that—”

    “YOU THINK I’D FEEL BAD ABOUT SHIT LIKE THIS?!” Jang cut in, voice sharp. “I don’t give a fuck about your life. If there’s something you don’t want me to hear, that’s your right. I ain’t your butt buddy, don’t need to hear every damn thing you talk about. SHIT.” He spat again, rolling his eyes.

    Silence. Both of them leaned against the wall.

    “… I was a cripple.” Jang finally muttered, tilting his head back. Jiho said nothing, just listened.

    “… Specifically,” Jang cleared his throat. “I got crippled in a fight with some bastard. Forget the fact that battle was the stuff of legends—he probably thinks I’m dead.” His fists clenched, eyes darkening.

    “I need to settle the score. With him. With everyone who crossed me. No matter what.” His voice was low, but charged. Then, he turned, locking eyes with Jiho. “But him? He has to die.”

    His glare hardened. “I can’t decide on anything in life until he’s dead. That’s a big part of why I left the Zone.”

    Jang pushed off the wall. “Anyway, I’m heading to that French family’s apartment. Won’t be seeing you again. And don’t fucking try to talk me out of revenge.” He turned and walked away.

    “… I don’t know much about revenge. Not confident I could talk you out of it anyway.” Jiho’s words made Jang pause, his back still turned.

    “But hit me up when you’re done with it. I’ll lend you a manhwa.” Jiho added lightly.

    Jang flinched. “Shit. I don’t wanna see your shit-taste comics. Save that crap for yourself.” He spat, dismissing the offer with a flick of his hand.

    A pause.

    “… I might hit you up again, though.” His voice, quieter than ever, barely carried over the distance between them.

    “Tsundere.” Jiho muttered, deadpan, his voice just as quiet.

    “FUCK WAS THAT?!” Jang barked, catching the word.

    “TSUN-DERE.” Jiho shot back, louder.

    “… Eat shit.”

    And with that, Jang disappeared into the distance.

    “Haah… Okay. Guess I should get ready for school.” Jiho muttered, stepping back inside. For a brief moment, the ghosts of his past-best friends flickered in his mind.

    ‘He’s right.’

    ‘I’m strong now, Daniel!’

    ‘… Eunhee.’

    His frown deepened. The memory of her response to his confession sat heavy in his chest.

    Then, almost instinctively, his hand lifted his new phone. Amélie’s contact.

    ‘Right. I can just talk to her.’ The thought came quick, a small surge of relief washing over him. His lips curled into something like a smirk; after all – He didn’t need to think about Daniel or Eunhee. He had someone else now. That’s all that mattered.

    “Jiho? Where’s Jang?” His mother’s voice snapped him out of it as he walked in.

    “I’ll tell you later—I gotta lay my head for a bit!” Jiho blurted, practically bolting up the stairs.

    His mother blinked, watching him go. “Hmmm… I guess nothing bad, then. Good.” She muttered, though a light smile lingered on her face.

    ———–

    “Fuck… You’ve actually been in ground zero?” Daniel scratched his head, glancing between Eunhee and Misaki as they sat in his apartment.

    “I ain’t telling you war stories, big boy. Don’t feel like talking about it.” Misaki muttered, looking away with a furrowed brow.

    “No, no, of course not. Didn’t expect you to. It’s just that… You didn’t happen to come across a young—”

    “Misaki, what are you doing here?” Eunhee cut in.

    “Moved back from Japan a few months ago. Settled in the city, and from there, history. Anyway, lucked out as one of the first survivors—scored a small flat with two rooms.” She glanced at Daniel, who looked confused but attentive. For a second, her gaze sharpened.

    “Figured you’d rather crash at my place than with Aunt and Uncle. Asked them where you were, and they sent me here. So, I came to offer—”

    “She’s fine.” Daniel interrupted, too quickly. “I’m protecting her.”

    “Daniel, I—”

    “Eunhee, it’s cool.” Misaki cut her off, tone lazy, but her eyes locked onto Daniel with newfound sharpness.

    “Big guy, I don’t know where you’re from, but girls need their personal space. And seeing as Eunhee ain’t your beloved, I’m frowning the fuck out of whatever arrangement you thought about.”

    Silence.

    Daniel looked down, huffing.

    ‘Hmph. Half-expected this oaf to resist more,’ Misaki thought, raising a brow.

    “I… I need Eunhee here with me.” His voice was suddenly softer.

    Eunhee’s tired, conflicted gaze flickered. The roughness in Daniel’s voice was gone. “I get I’m rough. As fuck. And that she might have it better at your place… Or really, anywhere else that isn’t with me.” he swallowed, hesitating.

    “But I need her with me.”

    “…”

    “Daniel…” Eunhee stared at him, emotions twisting inside her. Misaki’s offer made sense—logically, it was the better choice.

    But hearing Daniel so… open like this hit something deep.

    Like it had before.

    She hesitated, turning his words over in her mind. He was right.

    Why would she leave? At this point, who else understood her like he did? Even if Jiho was alive, she was probably the last person he’d ever want to see.

    “… I’m sorry, Misaki.” Eunhee said quietly, looking at her. “I think I’ll stay—”

    “Oh, okay.” Misaki cut in. No sigh, no protest. Just that.

    Daniel and Eunhee both blinked.

    Daniel, in particular, snapped his head toward her.

    She looked… bored. Maybe even disappointed.

    “If he wants you with him, I guess I can’t change that. You know where to find me if you change your mind. See ya’.” Misaki got up, turned to the door, and left without hesitation.

    “M-Misaki!?” Eunhee’s voice wavered, confused by the almost hurried exit.

    Both of them stared after her, baffled.

    But Daniel felt something else—a sudden, gnawing urge to go after her. Before he could stop himself, he was already on his feet, following her outside, just far enough that Eunhee wouldn’t hear.

    “H-Hey, I didn’t say anything wrong, right?” His voice came out shakier than he liked. “Don’t take it the wrong way, I just… I just can’t really live without her—”

    “Dude.” Misaki cut him off, not even looking back. “Just don’t physically hurt her, and we’re cool. I don’t know what you think you saw or heard, but I took it the best way. Alright?”

    Daniel clenched his teeth. Misaki didn’t wait for a response. She just turned and started walking away, unfazed.

    A pulse of irritation surged through him. He stomped after her, closing the distance, and abruptly grabbed her shoulder.

    “Listen, I just want to clarify that—”

    “Don’t. FUCKING. Touch me.”

    Her voice was ice. Before he could react, she turned and drove her knee straight into his crotch.

    Daniel doubled over, choking on a sharp breath, hands clutching himself as he sank. Misaki stood over him, watching with an almost bored expression.

    “I’ve dated guys like you.” Her voice was maddeningly calm. “Lots, actually. I’ve seen that ‘bad-boy with a soft side’ act so many times, it’s dull now. Played out.”

    She tilted her head, eyes narrowing slightly. “I don’t even mind that you manipulate her.”

    Daniel’s breath hitched at her words. ‘Manipulate..!?’

    She continued, “Girls need to get manipulated at least once in their lives—so they can tell the difference between someone who actually gives a fuck and someone who just plays with their head. Like you.”

    Daniel’s breath came ragged, his whole body trembling—not just from the pain.

    His fists clenched against the pavement. His jaw locked so tight it hurt.

    “I’m not… playing a… FUCKING… GAME ON HER… YOU BITCH…!!” He growled, voice raw. “I CARE ABOUT HER!!”

    The words felt too loud, too desperate, even to himself. But he clenched his fists tighter, repeating it in his head.

    ‘I REALLY CARE ABOUT HER. This girl… she’s just full of shit! I wouldn’t have practically let Eunhee live with me if I didn’t care!’

    Misaki exhaled through her nose, unimpressed.

    “Sure, bud. You keep telling yourself that.”

    She turned on her heel. Didn’t even look back.

    “Follow me, and I’m calling the cops.” Her voice drifted over her shoulder before she disappeared from sight. 

    BIG THANKS To my Patreon: SparkyZinger

  • 31st Death: Part

    “Telling me to wait outside…” Jang sighed as he looked up to the clear noon sky with a sigh as he looked back at the house again.

    “Those Daniel and Eunhee must’ve been two pieces of shit.” He murmured himself as he looked at his fingers.

    ‘Though, I doubt they even come close to you…’ He thought as he narrowed his eyes, seeing Joon-Seok before him, stepping on his dog’s head and killing it before his eyes.

    ‘Joon-Seok. You fucker. I masturbated and came at the thought of slithing your throat. When other people got addicted to porn, I came over the thought of murdering you. Motherfucker…’

    He clenched his teeth.

    ‘You’re gonna fucking pay.’ His fingers then scratched at the wall behind him, his fingers nearly cracking the concrete.

    ‘Haah… It’s refreshing to get angry without worrying about this bullshit.’ He thought as he looked at his screen. Seeing the [Zombification] meter on 100%.

    [NECRO MODE AVAILABLE!]

    ‘Good think that bitch told me about it … All I had to do was just kill a zombie as it reached 100. Even got an achievement for it which gave me some new skills…’ He thought as he scanend through his status window. His gaze eventually leaving it.

    ‘I’ll use them once I go back to the quarantine zone. I got fuck to look for here, other than revenge.’ He thought as he recalled Ji-yeon’s meal and the futon he slept it.

    He gently clutched his stomach.

    ‘…Should’ve asked for a second serving. And where she bought that fucking thing.’

    ‘…It was the best fucking thing I’ve ever eaten…’ He pursed his lips, staring down at the ground.

    “I think that’s him,” a voice reached Jang’s ears, snapping him out of his thoughts. His gaze flickered upward.

    “Good… Haah, it’s a relief we found him here. Thank god for that ListaGram post,” the voice continued. Two people in suits approached Jang, their expressions serious.

    “Who the fuck are you?” Jang’s voice boomed as he stood upright, towering over the man and woman before him.

    “Hey, kid, watch the fucking to—” the man began, his expression twisting into a grimace, but the woman beside him swiftly raised a hand, cutting him off.

    “Jang Seung-Jae, right? You being here means Mister Jiho An is here too, doesn’t it?” she asked, her tone calm yet firm.

    “Yeah? What’s it to you?” Jang shot back, his words sharp and unyielding, his gaze steady.

    INSIDE THE HOUSE

    “I see… That kind of thing happened,” Ji-yeon sighed softly.

    “Yes,” Jiho replied, his voice low as he looked down. Defeat shadowed his expression. “She just… said that. And then, when I asked Daniel about it… he spun this story that I manipulated her. And she just believed him. I’d… rather not talk to either of them.” His voice faltered, fading into a murmur.

    “How terrible…” Ji-yeon whispered, her hand gently resting on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

    “That’s uncalled for. And cruel, regardless of Daniel’s reasons,” she continued, her tone firm but empathetic. “Do you want me to talk to hi—”

    “Mom,” Jiho cut her off abruptly, his voice sharper than before.

    “Jiho…?” Ji-yeon’s brows furrowed as she looked at him, sensing the sudden shift in his demeanor. His face, once downtrodden, now seemed resolute. Stoic, almost.

    “I’m strong now, you know?” he said evenly, his eyes locking onto hers. His voice carried an unsettling calm. 

    “I’m built. I can fend for myself. I don’t need your protection. Or your pity,” he said, his words clipped and deliberate.

    “Jiho… What are you trying to say—”

    “That’s why,” Jiho snapped subtly, his eyes trembling, the facade of calm cracking.

    He took a shaky breath, his voice lowering but thick with emotion. 

    “If something happens to you. Something you’re not sure about… If someone tells you anything about me… Please. Please just tell me about it. Don’t keep it from me. I don’t want someone to take you away too.” His voice wavered, his gaze pleading.

    “Baby, I’ll NEVER let anyone—”

    “EUNHEE SHUT HER MOUTH!” Jiho burst out, his teeth clenched, his fist shaking at his side. Ji-yeon froze, startled, her hand slipping from his shoulder as she stared at him somberly.

    “Ten years. Ten years I knew her,” Jiho said, taking a breath. “Ten years. And she just… kept that from me. For months. And then she believed that MOTHERFUCKER.” His hands trembled, and his breathing quickened, his rage barely contained.

    His voice softened suddenly, turning hoarse, almost broken. 

    “So… just… promise me. Please,” he whispered. “Don’t… don’t let anyone take you away from me too.” His eyes glistened as he looked down, his shoulders trembling.

    Ji-yeon hesitated for a moment, her chest tightening as she saw the vulnerability in her son. Slowly, she stepped closer and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a firm embrace despite his resistance. 

    “I promise, baby,” she murmured. 

    “I’ll always tell you. Always.”

    Jiho didn’t reply. He stood stiff for a moment before his shoulders sagged, and he buried his face against her shoulder, his breath uneven.

    Ji-yeon let out a soft chuckle, running a hand lightly over his back.

    “You’re so tall now,” she said with a gentle smile as she pulled back slightly, her hands still on his shoulders. “And any girl who looks at you and thinks it’s okay to hide something from you is just stupid. And unworthy of you.”

    Jiho’s shoulders loosened at her light tone and comments, his breathing gradually returning to normal.

    “Stupid…?” Jiho murmured, his voice laced with doubt. “But… You and Eunhee are friends—”

    “Any girl,” she cut him off gently but firmly. 

    “Anyone who hurts my son like this is no friend of mine. Whether she was lied to or not, she should have told you straight away. Pretending nothing happened is cruel and disrespectful.” Her voice hardened slightly, her eyes narrowing. 

    “Unfortunately, that’s how most girls your age are—especially at your age. Stupid. Brainless.”

    “…Doesn’t that make you brainless when you were my age?” Jiho asked with a tilt of his head.

    Ji-yeon let out a soft, amused chuckle, 

    “There he is,” she said with a playful smile. “Well, I was stupid for marrying your father. Much better men were around.”

    Her hands moved to cup his cheeks, and her voice softened. 

    “But I was lucky—because I had you as my son.”

    Jiho exhaled deeply. All the tension that had gripped his body seemed to melt away.

    Then his eyes tensed again as he looked into hers. 

    “Aren’t… you gonna ask?” he murmured.

    “Ask what?”

    “Why… I’m so… different?”

    “Ah,” she replied, tilting her head slightly. “I figured you’ll tell me when you’re ready. You weren’t experimented on or something, right?”

    “No, I wasn’t,” Jiho said quickly. “It’s not… uh… it’s just not something simple—”

    “Jiho,” she interrupted gently but firmly. “You’re my son. I trust you. If you don’t want to tell me right now, that’s fine. I’ll wait. After all…” Her voice trembled slightly as she pulled him into another embrace. “I’m still constantly thanking God that you’re alive. My baby… my baby boy…”

    Jiho exhaled again.

    ‘Hah.. I really am lucky. Aren’t I?’

    Ji-yeon stepped back slightly and gave him a knowing look. “As for Eunhee and Daniel… I won’t say a word until you’re ready to. Though, Jiho. School is starting soon, you know.”

    “School…?” Jiho repeated, his tone confused.

    “Yes,” Ji-yeon nodded. “A new place for people who were hit by the outbreak. At some point, the world will have to know that you’re alive, and you’ll have to go back to school. You will most likely be with Daniel and Eunhee.”

    Jiho hesitated, his gaze flickering downward. 

    “Yeah, I know. Then…” He sighed heavily. “I’ll handle Eunhee and Daniel when I get there. If they come near me. I just don’t want to talk to them right now.” His voice softened, almost to a murmur. 

    “I already told the government my name when I left the quarantine zone. No point in hiding it from the school staff or the world. I don’t know… I’m just talking nonsense.”

    Ji-yeon reached out and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Just leave it to me, okay? I Now, go call your new friend. He seems nice!” she said with a warm smile.

    Jiho nodded, his smile lingering as he stepped out of the house, heading toward Jang.

    Jiho tilted his head in confusion as he spotted Jang speaking with two people. One of them appeared to hand Jang a phone.

    “Oh, you must be Jiho, right?” The woman turned to him, her gaze sharp yet professional, while Jang continued talking to the man beside her.

    Jiho narrowed his eyes as she approached.

    “Here is your brand-new phone, ID, and my number for anything else you might need,” she said, holding out the items.

    “H-huh?” Jiho blinked, accepting the items with evident confusion. “The government, right? Insurance for the things we lost…? Don’t we have to contact you first?” His gaze swept over the woman and her impeccably tailored suit.

    “Well… in part, yes,” she replied smoothly. 

    “But in reality, it’s a very long process to reclaim lost items. When you get the chance, please thank the person who made this possible. She made sure her number is also in your phone.”

    “Right…” Jiho muttered, his voice low as he examined the items in his hands.

    As he glanced at his new belongings, the woman couldn’t help but think, ‘My, what a stud. The young lady sure has good taste…’ Her gaze lingered on him a beat too long.

    “Céleste!” the man called out sharply, “Allons-y!”

    ‘French…?’ Jiho’s eyes narrowed again, lifting his head to look at the woman.

    “Ah, j’arrive !” she replied quickly, snapping out of her thoughts as she turned toward her colleague.

    “Then, Monsieur Jiho—”

    “..!!” Jiho stiffened slightly at the way she said his name.

    Amélie? he realized.

    “… Monsieur Jang. Have a pleasant day! And please, be sure to call the number in your phone!” she added with a polite smile before walking away.

    Jiho approached Jang, the two of them standing side by side in silence, holding their new phones and IDs as they watched the suited couple retreat.

    “…”

    “…”

    “They arranged me a place to crash. I didn’t ask for that shit,” Jang spat.

    “Can’t you just say thank you? You haven’t even seen it yet,” Jiho replied.

    “Probably dogshit, considering I almost killed their missy and her butler,” Jang said with a scoff.

    “… Good point,” Jiho hummed thoughtfully. He glanced at Jang’s phone before adding, “Want me to unlock it for you? Just in case there’s no explosives or whatever?” His tone was perfectly deadpan.

    “You fucker… I ain’t bitch made! I AM THE ONE WHO UNLOCKS!” Jang growled, his voice booming as he aggressively unlocked his new phone.

    Jiho quietly unlocked his phone, his finger scrolling through the contact list.

    All his familiar contacts were there: his mother, father, Eunhee, Daniel…

    And then, a new name stood out: Amélie.

    …Call and thank her, huh? Jiho mused, his gaze lingering on her name.

    “This is where we part ways, bitch,” Jang suddenly announced, breaking the silence.

    BIG THANKS To my Patreon: SparkyZinger

  • 30th Death: Cousin

    I PRESENT TO YOU: ANOTHER ART BY Discipline from my discord server!

    I PRESENT TO YOU: ANOTHER ART BY Discipline from my discord server!

    Featuring: Jiho (Left) and Jang (Right)

    “It’s NOT HIM, Eunhee.”

    “You’d like that, wouldn’t you!?” she howled, hastily pulling her clothes from the floor and slipping into her shoes. Her words struck like a whip, causing Daniel to flinch.

    It was early noon. Eunhee had just seen the ListaGram post—a picture of two dashing boys named Jiho and Jang, who had reportedly left the quarantine zone the night before. The face was sharper, the body more toned, but it was unmistakably Jiho’s.

    With trembling hands, she dropped her phone, letting it clatter to the floor, and rushed to dress in a frenzy, her mind racing.

    “STOP!” Daniel barked, gripping her arm firmly just as she reached for the door.

    “Let go of me,” she spat, her tone sharp and defiant as she glared up at him. “I’m GOING to him.”

    Daniel’s jaw tightened as he held her gaze. “…Think about it,” he said, his voice low and steady. “If Jiho was alive, what’s the FIRST thing he’d do once he got out of the quarantine zon—”

    “I DON’T GIVE A FUCK!” Eunhee screamed, yanking her arm free with such force that her shoulder wrenched painfully.

    “Everything you’re saying is a lie anyway!” she shouted, her voice cracking as tears burned in her eyes. “YOU WANT him to STAY DEAD!”

    Daniel’s jaw clenched as her words landed. Her voice rose again, unwavering in its conviction. “Jiho is ALIVE. You saw that photo as well as I did. I’m SEEING HI—”

    “HE’D SEE HIS MOM FIRST, WOULDN’T HE!?” Daniel’s voice exploded, cutting through hers like thunder, the weight of his frustration finally breaking free.

    A tense pause settled between them. Eunhee looked down, a deep frown etched across her face.

    “… He’d run STRAIGHT to her,” Daniel repeated, his voice steady but firm. “And she’d call me, you, your parents—or even my deadbeat father—the moment she saw him, wouldn’t she?!”

    Eunhee’s body loosened slightly as her mind raced, sifting through countless arguments.

    “… He could’ve told her not to tell us. What would he want to do with you…” Her voice wavered, her lips pursing as her gaze fixed on the floor. “Or me, anymore? Being who he is, he must’ve told her about—”

    “Yeah, yeah, I know, I KNOW!” Daniel cut in, his frustration bubbling over as he turned on his heel, pacing and rubbing his temples.

    He fell silent, his thoughts spinning. A faint, almost imperceptible pinch gripped his chest as he considered the possibility—what if Jiho was alive?

    “It’s just… It’s more like it isn’t him,” Daniel continued after a moment, his voice quieter. “You saw it too. He looked more built. And that dude next to him—they looked close. Jiho isn’t the type to make friends so fast,”

    “You can’t tell that from a photo—”

    “IT’S NOT HIM!” Daniel snapped, cutting her off before she could finish. His voice echoed in the heavy silence that followed.

    Another pause.

    “And even if it IS him…” Daniel began again, his tone softer this time, almost reluctant. Eunhee’s head shot up at his words. 

    “You still want to see him? He’d definitely hate both of us now. Don’t go. Save yourself the heartache. If he hasn’t contacted us by now, it’s because he doesn’t want to. Period.”

    He hesitated, swallowing hard before continuing. “It’s either finding out he hates you…”

    Daniel glanced at Eunhee, noticing her expression falter. A faint sense of relief flickered within him.

    “Or finding out he’s really dead. You want that?”

    Eunhee said nothing, staring at the floor as his words weighed heavy on her.

    ‘He’s… right. It’s either he’s actually dead… or he hates us. Hates me,’ Eunhee thought, biting her lip.

    ‘But… I… I need to see him. I want to see him, even if he doesn’t let me speak. Even if he hates me, I want to apologize…’

    Her gaze slowly lifted toward the door, determination flickering in her eyes—until a knock echoed from it.

    “H-huh?” Both Daniel and Eunhee gasped at the sound.

    The knock was light, almost hesitant, like a tender hand gently rapping against the door.

    Daniel froze, a sudden memory surfacing: how Jiho always knocked, no matter how many times he told him to just walk in. The air grew thick as both of them held their breath.

    Neither dared to approach the door.

    ‘J… Ji…ho…?’ Eunhee thought, her heart racing.

    Daniel’s eyes widened as he stared at the door, unsure of what to do.

    “Heya,” a feminine voice called out, casual and informal. “Anybody home? Some dude named Daniel, maybe? I heard Eunhee might be at your place, so I came to check it out. Open the door!” The persistent knocking broke the tension like a burst balloon.

    Both Daniel and Eunhee exhaled, relief mingling with exhaustion.

    “… I’ll get it—” Daniel began, but Eunhee cut him off with a sigh.

    “It’s fine. I know who it is.”

    “…?” Daniel hummed in confusion, watching as Eunhee walked to the door and opened it.

    Behind it stood a tall woman in her twenties, her blonde hair cascading over her shoulders and her deep brown eyes gazing down at Eunhee with faint disinterest. She wore tight skinny jeans and a loose, oversized white shirt that draped effortlessly over her frame, giving her an air of casual elegance.

    ‘Holy shit…’ Daniel thought, his breath catching as he took her in. ‘She looks like a supermodel. She knows Eunhee?’

    “Heya, little brat,” the woman said, her voice carrying a teasing lilt.

    “Hello… Misaki,” Eunhee replied softly.

    “Misaki? Who’s she, Eunhee?” Daniel asked, his confusion evident as he looked between the two women.

    “She’s Misaki… my… distant cousin,” Eunhee said, her voice quieter now.

    “Is the food to your liking, Jang?” Ji-yeon asked warmly, her voice gentle as Jang stood frozen at the table. His legs pressed together, shoulders hunched timidly.

    “Y-yes, ma’am. It’s delicious… T-thank you.” He stammered, avoiding her gaze as he fidgeted with his fingers. His awkwardness drew a soft chuckle from Ji-yeon.

    Jiho glanced at Jang as he ate, his expression deadpan. His mind drifted to the night before.

    “Your mom is so fucking hot, bitch. I’m gonna make her my woman. I’ll be your daddy. Just you fucking wait,” Jang whispered, sprawled on the futon next to Jiho’s bed.

    Jiho lay flat on his back, staring at the ceiling, his face blank. “Sure you are,” he muttered.

    “You bastard, is that why you’re so calm? You think I got no rizz, huh?” Jang hissed, his whisper sharp as he glanced nervously at the door.

    “Oh, no,” Jiho sighed. “We’ve only known each other for a few days. Maybe you’ve got a hidden side I don’t know about.”

    “The fuck’s a ‘hidden side’ supposed to mean?” Jang shot back, his whisper growing more aggressive.

    “I’m calm because,” Jiho said, exhaling slowly, “if you try something funny, I’ll just kill you.” His voice was casual, almost indifferent, as if stating a fact.

    Jang froze, a chill creeping up his spine.

    “If something happens to her that I don’t approve of—if she’s uncomfortable with you in any way imaginable—you’re dead. Simple.” Jiho turned his head slightly, his gaze locking onto Jang. There wasn’t a trace of anger, only an unsettling calm.

    “Whether I owe you something. Whether you saved my life or helped me before. Whether I’ve known you for ten years and you’re my best friend—or even if you’re my father.” Jiho’s voice dropped lower, each word deliberate, weighted.

    “If you,” he said, his eyes unblinking, “hurt her—”

    “Or do something behind my back with her—”

    “In any way—” A faint growl edged into his voice, his expression tightening as a flicker of memory crossed his mind—How Daniel slapped him and walked away with Eunhee.

    “You. Are. Dead.”

    Jiho leaned in closer, his glare cutting into Jang.

    “Are you going to do something with her, Hyung?”

    “J-Jesus fuck, man, back off!” Jang snapped, leaning away slightly. He forced a laugh, but it came out strained. “You don’t get jokes, huh? Shit. Isn’t she like past 45? I’m not even INTO her.”

    ‘The fuck’s HIS problem!?’ Jang thought, a pang of frustration mixing with unease in his chest.

    Jiho’s expression darkened.

    “Not that joke. NEVER,” Jiho emphasized, his tone cutting through the silence.

    “I get it, I GET IT! Shit, fuck… Let me sleep,” Jang muttered, rolling his eyes as he closed them.

    ‘But damn… This futon must cost like 10,000 won, huh…?’ he thought as he shifted into it.
    ‘It’s so… comfortable… I’m… sinking…’

    Slowly, he drifted off, memories from his past pulling him under.

    “GIVING YOUR FATHER TROUBLE!!” her voice roared as the shoelace struck Jang’s head.

    “HURTING OUR FAMILY’S REPUTATION BY REPORTING Joon-Seok TO THE PRINCIPAL!” Another strike, harder this time, sent Jang curling into a ball on the floor.

    “WHY!? WHY!!!? WHY ARE YOU MY FUCKING SON!?” she howled. “IF YOU JUST ENDURED IT AND KEPT YOUR MOUTH SHUT, EVERYTHING WOULD’VE BEEN FINE!”

    “NOW YOUR FATHER IS BEING THREATENED WITH RESIGNATION BECAUSE OF YOU!”

    “YOU TRASH!”

    Jang stirred awake, his body tense even in the warmth of the futon as he recalled the memory from earlier.

    “Haaah, what a wonderful sight,” his voice rang out as he entered the house, sneering at the sight of Jiho and his mom embracing. His head held high, his smirk reeked of arrogance.

    “But I still need my reward.”

    “W-who are—” Ji-yeon turned to him, startled. Jiho quickly intervened.

    “It’s okay, Mom. That’s just how he is… And this is Jang. He helped me leave the quarantine zone,” Jiho said, his voice tinged with frustration as he shot Jang a pointed glare.

    “Yeah, that’s fucking right,” Jang said, puffing out his chest. “I helped him. And I’m here for my rewar—”

    He froze mid-sentence, feeling a soft hand gently clasp his.

    “What the fu—” Jang started, but his voice trailed off as he looked down. Ji-yeon stood before him, her teary eyes locking onto his.

    “…!” Jang’s breath hitched as an unfamiliar tightness gripped his chest. He shifted uncomfortably under her gaze.

    “Thank you… oh, thank you,” Ji-yeon sobbed, lowering her head as she held his hand firmly. “Anything you want, I’ll give you. Anything… You brought my baby back to me.”

    “M-MOM! D-don’t—” Jiho stammered, his face reddening.

    Jang quickly pulled his hand away, looking off to the side as beads of sweat trickled down his face.

    “… J-just… a place to sleep for the night or something. I’m not after money or… or anything like that. O-only if you… allow it… I don’t give a fuck,” Jang muttered, scratching his arm and fidgeting under the weight of her gratitude.

    Jiho sighed in relief as he watched the exchange.

    “Of course!” Ji-yeon said, her face lighting up. “Stay for dinner! I’ll prepare a futon for you!”

    Jang clutched the futon tightly, curling into it as he buried his face in its softness.

    ‘… She…’ His lips pressed together, trembling slightly.
    ‘… Someone like that… actually exists…’

    Tears traced silent paths down his cheeks as he clenched his teeth, the warm image of Ji-yeon contrasting sharply with the cold memories of his own mother.

    ‘I could literally hear him crying last night… Was I too harsh on him?’ Jiho wondered, his gaze lingering on Jang as they sat next to each other during lunch.

    “Jiho,” Ji-yeon said softly, holding out her phone. “I thought you should do the honors.”

    She smiled warmly. “Call them. They’re devastated—Eunhee and Daniel.”

    “….” Jiho remained silent, his gaze fixed on the phone in her hand. The air grew heavier as Jang’s eyes shifted to Jiho, pausing mid-bite.

    “Jiho?” Ji-yeon asked, her voice tinged with concern as she noticed his hesitation. “Is something wrong?”

    BIG THANKS To my Patreon: SparkyZinger

  • 29th Death: Home

    Hazy here.

    This chapter is dedicated to my mom. Wouldn’t have been where I am without her. Love her.

    Hope you enjoy the chapter.

    “They’re already gone by now, huh,” Daniel muttered as he and Eunhee walked back to his apartment, the quiet night enveloping them.

    Just then, his phone rang. He glanced at the screen—it was one of his friends.

    “…These guys are pushing it,” he muttered under his breath, rejecting the call.

    Moments later, a flood of notifications lit up his screen. Sighing, he opened one of the messages.

    [DUDE, YOU GOTTA SEE THIS POST NOW. JIHO IS…]

    His grimace deepened. ‘Wow,’ he thought bitterly. ‘They’re really pushing it.’

    His jaw tightened as anger bubbled beneath the surface. 

    ‘To gossip or shit-talk about Jiho right after his funeral? Why, I should—’ His grip on the phone tightened, knuckles white with restrained fury, but his thoughts screeched to a halt when Eunhee came into his peripheral vision.

    He stole a glance at her. She walked silently beside him, her face unreadable, lost in the shadows of the dimly lit street.

    Daniel exhaled slowly, forcing the anger to subside. 

    ‘…I’ll deal with them later,’ he decided, locking his phone without bothering to look at the image they’d sent. He slipped it back into his pocket with a heavy sigh.

    “Surprised your phone isn’t flooded, Eunhee,” he said casually, trying to shift the conversation.

    Eunhee didn’t respond. Her gaze remained fixed on the road ahead, her silence louder than the night around them.

    Daniel’s brow furrowed as he glanced at her. She didn’t even acknowledge him, as if his words had dissolved into the air.

    “Eunhee,” he called softly, his voice tinged with concern.

    Still, she said nothing. Her footsteps remained steady, her face distant, almost as if Daniel wasn’t even there.

    Exhaling, he stepped in front of her, blocking her path. She stopped, her gaze dropping to the ground.

    “Eunhee,” he called more firmly.

    “What?” she asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

    “You—” He breathed out, sighing as his eyes flicked around the empty street, searching the surroundings as if hoping to find the words he wanted. 

    “You don’t have to like me. I get it.”

    “I do like you, Daniel,” she replied flatly. Her small confession, spoken without inflection, didn’t quite reach Daniel’s ears. 

    “What are you talking about?”

    Daniel gulped at her deadpan tone, his throat tight.

    “I get it, okay?” he repeated, his voice strained. “I’d hate me too. I would. But…”

    He rubbed the bridge of his nose. 

    “But you… you wanted me to stay with you,” he said, his words landing heavy in the space between them.

    Her body tensed, a visible flinch betraying her composure.

    “Just… throw me a bone. Anything. Please,” he begged, his voice soft but desperate.

    A long pause stretched between them, the silence heavy as Eunhee carefully considered her response.

    “…I’m tired,” she murmured finally.

    “And cold,” she added, her eyes fixed on the ground as a faint frown formed on her lips.

    “Here’s your bone,” she muttered, crossing her arms and gripping her upper arm tightly, her posture closed off.

    Daniel sighed deeply, recognizing the faintest crack in her emotional wall. 

    ‘It’s a start,’ he thought, his chest tight with relief as he shrugged off his jacket and gently placed it over her shoulders. Without a word, he stepped beside her, wrapping one broad arm around her as they continued walking.

    “I turned off my phone for the day,” she finally said, breaking the silence.

    “Jiho deserves at least that much… don’t you think?” she murmured, her voice so quiet it felt like it might dissolve into the night. Her gaze remained fixed downward, refusing to meet his eyes.

    Daniel glanced at her, his expression softening as he saw the weight she carried.

    “Yeah,” he replied quietly. “I guess.”

    Just then, a darkened limousine passed them on the road. Daniel cast a passing glance at it.

    ‘Must feel great being this loaded and important,’ he thought bitterly.

    Inside the limo, Jiho’s gaze lingered on Eunhee and Daniel as they walked, her wrapped in his arm. His expression tightened.

    “…Monsieur Jiho? Is something wrong?” Marcel asked, noticing Jiho’s distant stare.

    “No,” Jiho replied, his voice clipped. “Nothing. Nothing at all.” His voice sounded more strained than usual, something Jang noticed as he watched him from the side; taking in every shift of expression.

    ‘Yeah,’ Jiho thought bitterly to himself, ‘With me dead, you can go hugged all you want now, huh? No need to sneak around anymore and make a fool out of me.’

    ‘Fuck. I accepted that it happened,’ he told himself, his jaw clenching. ‘And it was over a week ago. So why does it still hurt…?’

    The silence in the limo thickened until Jang finally broke it.

    “Jesus fuck,” Jang drawled, cutting through Jiho’s thoughts. “You look like that guy fucked your crush and sent you the tape. Had a rough love life, bitch?”

    Jiho’s head snapped toward him, his eyes narrowing into sharp daggers.

    “At least I was loved, hyung,” Jiho sneered. “Being that 90’s-styled bully, I bet everyone wanted to send you to a different timeline, too.”

    “WHAT WAS THAT, YOU TINY BITCH!?” Jang growled, immediately lunging at Jiho. He grabbed Jiho’s face and pulled his mouth open as if trying to rip off his lips. Jiho retaliated by grabbing at Jang’s mouth with equal ferocity.

    “Haaah…” Marcel sighed. “Monsieur Jiho, we’re almost there. I suggest preparing yourself for whatever you may find.”

    The two immediately stopped their bickering, snapping their heads toward Marcel with matching annoyed glares.

    “…”

    “She’ll be gone. There’s nothing to find. But that’s okay,” Jiho said, settling back in his seat. “I can just call her later.”

    “…I see,” Marcel replied with a nod.

    “That aside, Marcel, how did you know when to come for us?” Jiho asked, leaning forward slightly, his tone casual but curious.

    “Lady Amelie and I arranged it so with the person in charge of handling the quarantine,” Marcel explained. 

    “We requested to be notified if someone named Jiho came across. I arrived just as your quarantine ended. And judging by the two of you, I see they’ve taken good care of you.”

    Jiho shrugged as he leaned back in his seat, the soft fabric of his long-sleeved shirt, covered with a comfortable hoodie. A subtle fragrance of fresh laundry clung to it, clean and calming. Paired with cargo jeans and a fresh pair of work shoes, his outfit was simple yet perfectly crisp. His jet-black hair, freshly washed and emanating a faint hint of chamomile, flowed smoothly in a straight line over his head, adding to his polished appearance. His face was immaculate, not a single blemish marring his smooth complexion—so flawless, in fact, that it appeared even more refined than when Marcel had first seen him.

    “Ah, they let us shower and rest. Even brought in some fresh clothes,” he said with a faint smirk before his gaze drifted, his expression turning distant as he became lost in thought.

    Jang leaned back in his seat, his long leather trench coat freshly laundered, the faint scent of detergent blending with the natural scent of the polished material. The coat flowed nearly to his heels, its edges crisp, giving him a striking, almost cinematic silhouette. Beneath it, he wore a plain black t-shirt that fit snugly across his broad chest, paired with dark jeans that appeared freshly pressed, yet didn’t take away from his rugged demeanor. His boots, clean but still exuding a durable, well-worn vibe, rested firmly against the limo’s floor. His jet-black hair, combed but still slightly tousled, framed his angular, sharp features. His face, smooth and blemish-free, had a quiet intensity that contrasted Jiho’s youthful polish.

    He gazed out the window, his expression unreadable. “Food wasn’t bad,” he muttered, his voice gruff but steady.

    Marcel’s relaxed gaze shifted between the two, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Good to hear,” he said lightly, settling back into his own seat.

    ‘Kinda cramped for a limo…’ Jiho thought.

    ——- AT THE AN RESIDENCE ——-

    “Ji-yeon. Come on, it’s getting late,” Min-soo called, his voice carrying softly through the quiet evening air.

    She stood at the edge of the driveway, a single suitcase by her side, staring at the darkened house that had once been full of life. Her gaze lingered on the door, her hands trembling as she clutched the handle of her bag.

    “I’m coming,” she murmured, though her feet didn’t move.

    Min-soo approached her, his steps deliberate and slow. 

    “I know it’s hard, but… there’s nothing left for you here. We’ll figure things out—together,” Min-soo said, his voice softer than she’d ever heard it. 

    Ji-yeon gasped, her eyes widening. After all these years, Min-soo had always kept his figure stoic and detached. For him to show such gentleness now…

    It brought her back to their youth, to when they had just met. Even in the early years of parenting Jiho, Min-soo had never shown this level of tenderness or consideration in his words.

    Her lips pressed into a thin line, her heart heavy. The thought of leaving—walking away from the memories of Jiho—felt like abandoning him all over again. 

    But what was left for her? Jiho was gone.

    Jiho was dead.

    “You’re… really different, Min-soo,” she murmured, her voice trembling.

    “Why are you so kind… only after our son died?” she nudged, her words cutting through the quiet.

    Min-soo flinched at her question, his gaze wavering as he struggled to hold her eyes. For a long moment, he didn’t answer.

    “Just come with me, Ji-yeon,” he said finally, shaking off her question.

    “There’s nothing here for you. For either of us. You know that,” he muttered, his voice low.

    “Yes… I,” Ji-yeon began, her words faltering. She took a deep breath, her eyes drifting to the spot where Jiho had once stood—the same spot Min-soo had walked away from when Jiho was just five years old. 

    She could still see it clearly: the dried blood staining the floorboards, Jiho holding a hammer with an innocent look on his face, oblivious to the weight of the moment.

    “It’s… it’s just that…” she said, her voice cracking. 

    “He’s standing there all over again, watching as we argue. Only this time, I’m the one who’s leaving him all alone…” Her tears spilled over, blurring her vision.

    Min-soo sighed quietly, stepping closer. He gently took her shoulders, his grip firm but tender.

    “You are not leaving anyone, Ji-yeon,” he said softly.

    “He’s gone, okay? But…” Min-soo paused, drawing in a shaky breath.

    “I’m here now,” he said firmly.

    For a moment, silence settled between them, his words lingering in the air.

    “Just now, huh?” Ji-yeon whispered at last, her voice so soft it was almost swallowed by the quiet.

    “…”

    “I should have stayed,” Min-soo admitted.

    “I should have stayed with you and Jiho. I shouldn’t have left. You raised him well, Ji-yeon. He grew up to be more than I ever expected,” he said; trying to keep his voice from cracking.

    “I was a coward. I know I was. So…” He reached up, rubbing her arm gently. “Please, let me make it right with you.”

    Ji-yeon’s gaze returned to that spot, where Jiho’s younger self seemed to linger in her mind’s eye, silently watching his parents, searching for answers he’d never understand.

    “Please, come with me,” Min-soo pleaded, his voice softer now.

    For a moment, Ji-yeon hesitated, her heart caught between the pull of his words and the weight of her grief. The tenderness in his voice, so uncharacteristic, broke the silence and filled the space between them.

    ‘I’m sorry, baby,’ she thought, her gaze lingering on the imagined figure of Jiho standing there, as vivid as a memory. ‘But Mommy has to leave, okay? It’s just…’

    ‘Mommy feels an ouch staying here.’ She absentmindedly touched her chest, the gesture mirroring the moment she had once pointed at Jiho’s chest to teach him the concept of pain.

    ‘I have to go. I’m so sorry, baby…’

    With a deep breath that trembled as it left her, Ji-yeon finally nodded, her heart heavy with the decision. Min-soo stepped closer and gently guided her to the car, his touch careful, almost reverent.

    A few moments passed.

    The car door clicked shut, and as the engine rumbled to life, the house stood behind the car in a shroud of silence. Its lights extinguished, its heart seemingly gone.

    The limousine rolled to a stop outside Jiho’s house. Marcel glanced back at Jiho. 

    “Monsieur Jiho, we’ve arrived.”

    Jiho stepped out first, his eyes scanning the driveway. It was empty, just as he expected. 

    The house stood dark and silent, its emptiness matching the hollowness in his chest.

    “They’re already gone,” Jiho muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible.

    Jang stretched as he climbed out, cracking his neck. 

    “Guess that’s it, huh? Home sweet—” He stopped when he noticed Jiho staring at the house.

    Jiho took a step toward the door, his movements hesitant. 

    “I’ll check inside,” he said softly, more to himself than anyone else.

    Marcel gave a solemn nod. “Take your time, Monsieur Jiho.”

    Jiho stepped out of the car, his gaze sweeping over the driveway. No car. He glanced up at the house again, the windows dark and lifeless.

    ‘… Same as I left you, old friend…’ he thought, pressing his lips tightly. ‘Or more like we left you…’ His chest tightened as his thoughts spiraled.

    ‘What did you expect?’

    The question gnawed at him as he pushed the door open. The faint creak of the hinges echoed through the stillness. The dim light from the street spilled weakly into the entryway, painting the space in muted shadows.

    ‘That she’d actually still be here, waiting for—’

    “J-… J-Jiho?”

    [BACKGROUND MUSIC: When She Loved Me – Sarah McLachlan]

    The voice shattered his thoughts like glass hitting the floor. His heart stopped.

    He froze, his breath catching in his throat. Slowly, almost afraid to believe it, he turned toward the voice.

    There she was.

    Ji-yeon stood in the living room, her face pale as a ghost, her wide eyes brimming with disbelief. The suitcase she had packed sat untouched by the couch, a frozen remnant of her intent to leave.

    He’d convinced himself she’d left. 

    That she was gone. 

    Yet here she was, shattering every wall he’d built in an instant.

    “…Mom?” Jiho whispered, his voice trembling, barely audible.

    Ji-yeon’s lips parted, but no words came at first. She took a shaky step forward, her hand flying to her mouth. Her breathing quickened, a strangled sob escaping her throat.

    “I… I couldn’t leave,” she finally managed, her voice breaking. “I thought—I felt—I thought I’d see you again… I just couldn’t leave…”

    Tears streamed freely down her face now, her body trembling as if struggling to contain the flood of emotions.

    “You’re… ahh… haaa… you—a… am I dreaming…?” Ji-yeon gasped, her knees buckling as she collapsed to the floor, her strength utterly failing her.

    “Please,” she begged, her voice trembling as she looked at the son whom everyone but her had declared dead.

    “Please… if this is a dream…” Her voice broke as tears spilled freely down her face, her hands reaching toward him as if afraid he might disappear.

    “Never wake me up,” she whispered, her plea fragile and desperate, her eyes fixed on the figure before her as though he were a fleeting vision.

    Jiho moved toward her instantly, his own eyes welling up as he knelt in front of her. 

    “Mom…” he murmured, his voice cracking.

    ‘She really… waited for me…? Even when I was dead? Mom…?’

    Ji-yeon reached out a trembling hand, her fingers brushing his face, as though to confirm he was real. The moment her fingers made contact, a choked cry escaped her, and she pulled him into her arms, clutching him with all the strength she could muster.

    “You’re alive… you’re alive… my baby’s alive…” she sobbed, her words tumbling out in broken fragments, as if saying them aloud might make them more real.

    “Ah… Ohh… My baby… what happened to you…?” She suddenly pulled him back, her hands gripping his shoulders as she scanned his face through the dim light. 

    Her eyes widened, her voice trembling as she continued, “You look even more impossibly handsome than before…. My baby is here with me…”

    Before Jiho could respond, she pulled him into another hug, clutching him tightly. She didn’t even pause to question his new height, his striking features, or his toned body.

    “I…” Jiho gulped, his words catching in his throat. 

    She’s… smaller now, Jiho thought, his gaze lowering to her as he felt her warmth. Her frame seemed so much smaller than he remembered, where once they had stood eye to eye.

    “I… I could be someone else, you know…? You should… be more cautious, Mom. I look different, don’t I—”

    “You’re my Jiho,” she interrupted, her voice firm yet tender. “I know. I know you are. I don’t know how you’ve come back even more beautiful—more beautiful than the perfection you already were—but you’re my Jiho.”

    Her words broke something in him, and he let out a shaky breath, collapsing gently into her arms.

    ‘Right,’ he thought as he rested his head against her shoulder, his arms wrapping carefully around her back.

    ‘You have to be careful with your new strength so you don’t hurt her,’ he reminded himself as he hugged her, his grip gentle yet secure.

    His eyes closed, tears slipping down his cheeks as he leaned into her warmth.

    BIG THANKS To my Patreon: SparkyZinger

  • 28th Death: Like That

    Olo! Hazy swinging by.
    I wrote – and still write for free (trying to change that, haha). I figured my usual readers would really appreciate a triple release, especially since I write according to how my mood is (I was right!).
    I’ve tried forcing myself to write during burnout before, and the result was the chapter losing its substance.
    Luckily, I really love writing, so there’s never a time where I’m not writing at all even if I don’t happen to release anything that day.

    Hope you enjoy the chapter!

    [DID SOMEBODY SAY TRIPLE RELEASE!!?]

    “So dumb,” Jiho muttered, reclining on the quarantine tent’s narrow bed.

    “FUCK YOU JUST SAY?!” Jang shot up, veins practically bulging.

    “I said, so dumb. The whole chapter. Too many thought bubbles. A good storyteller would’ve delivered it without revealing the characters’ thoughts every five seconds. That’s one of the Superhero-Human Man chapters I hated.” Jiho sighed.

    “YOU CAN SHOVE ONE IN YOUR MOUTH!” Jang erupted. “It was FILLED with emotional depth! You talk so much about realism, then why even read Superhero?! By your logic, an EVEN BETTER storyteller wouldn’t even need speech bubbles!”

    “… Good point,” Jiho admitted. “But it was a ridiculous chapter. Why would Supgirl apologize for looking at her ex around Superhero? That was bound to happen at some point—”

    “THE FUCK IT DOES!!” Jang roared, cutting him off. “As his girlfriend, she should lower her head and look ONLY at the ground. No, screw that—they can FLY. Why does she even insist on go out on dates? Home dates only; they got Neftplease for movies, and they can order food and booze! She should consider Superhero’s feelings! Shit-tier character and girlfriend. But the chapter humanized her, so instead of -12223442523634764/10, she gets a solid 4/10.”

    Jiho stared blankly. “Not that I don’t get where you’re coming from, but Superhero also looks at other women. Whether by accident or to save them, he—”

    “NOOOOOOO, BUT THAT’S DIFFERENT!” Jang bellowed, cutting him off again. “HE’S LOYAL. It’s just a look, you dumbass! He’d never betray her even though he could bang 10 women at the same time. I’d definitely go for that if I were him.”

    ‘Well, hyung likes harems; so his reaction is understandable…’

    “But… Supgirl is loyal too. She just looked at—”

    “BITCHES AIN’T LOYAL!” Jang declared. “You gotta make them submit with your alpha energy. But if they redeem her even more, I’d make her my waif—…”

    “…what?” Jiho narrowed his eyes, cutting into Jang’s trailing word.

    “Wife. I said wife. Wife,” Jang emphasized, his tone sharp.

    “You sure?” Jiho asked, one brow raised. “Because it sure sounded like waifu—”

    “I SAID WIFE!” Jang exploded. “MISS me with that weeb shit.”

    “…Okay,” Jiho muttered in resignation, his gaze drifting to the ceiling. “Whatever you say.”

    ‘Though we’ve been talking about comics for three hours straight, hyung…’ he thought, his expression deadpan.

    Meanwhile, outside the tent, the two female scientists exchanged hushed whispers, their eyes glued to the silhouettes of Jiho and Jang through the semi-transparent tent wall.

    “What do you think they’re talking about?” Su-hee asked, leaning closer.

    “It sounds so… intense,” the other murmured, though her gaze was fixed elsewhere.

    “Has to be about their time in the zone,” the first, Su-hee replied.

    “Poor things…” The other added, “I just want to baby them. Especially the shorter one.” Her eyes lingered on Jiho, his chiseled features and quiet demeanor unmistakable.

    “Tell me about it,” her colleague sighed, her gaze shamelessly drifting to Jang. 

    “The taller one… Jang’s his name, you know? I thought more about what you said, and let me tell you; His jawline. It could cut glass. And his abs…” Su-hee’s voice lowered, her lips parting slightly. 

    “I could grind meat on them.”

    The other scientist flushed, pressing her fingers to her warm cheeks.

    “They look so… perfect. Like living sculptures. God, how do they even exist?”

    “They don’t,” Su-hee whispered, her teeth catching her bottom lip. 

    “We’re dreaming. We have to be. Jang Seung-Jae and Jiho An… I looked at their profiles from before. They looked so different. Especially Jang—he was in a wheelchair. I guess it was psychosomatic, since he can walk now. That, and there wasn’t much information, even in his medical records, about what or who put him in that wheelchair. Like his legs just stopped working someday. Odd.”

    [Psychosomatic in this context refers to a mental issue that caused his body to become paralyzed.]

    “Adrenaline really matures people, I guess.” The other suggested.

    “Either way. take a photo. I need this for later.” Su-hee urged.

    “Oh, more people need to see this.” the other giggled as she raised her phone, snapping a shot of Jiho and Jang as they lay on their beds, looking up.

    “Wait, what if we get into trouble for this?” Su-hee hissed, glancing around nervously.

    “Relax,” The other replied with a wave of her hand, her tone dismissive. 

    “Their results came back clean. It’s just bureaucracy holding them here now.”

    Moments later, a notification pinged as the photo uploaded to social media.

    #Hottttt Two hot boys in quarantine tent. Jang (left) and Jiho (righty got mah heartie). What’s their story?

    It didn’t take long for the photo to explode…

    @kdramaqueen12: “OMG are they models or something?! They don’t even look real 😍🔥”

    @thirstygirl77: “I’ll quarantine with them ANY DAY. 👀👀”

    @fangirl4ever: “Someone pls make a show about these two. I’d watch it religiously.”

    @quarantinecrush: “Quarantine tent never looked so good. 👏👏👏”

    @quarantinecrisis: “So we’re all just collectively falling for two guys in a tent now? Cool, I’m in.”

    @serotoninhunter: “Is it just me or do they look like they’ve survived the apocalypse AND still had time to glow up?”

    @bffwatcher: “Could they be more than friends? 👀🥰”

    @hotbtsenergy: “JIHO LOOKS LIKE A LITERAL ANGEL. Is it bad that I’m obsessed already? 🥵”

    @seriouslycurious: “Wait, they survived out there for a week?? And they look so good? Like… this is straight out of a K-drama. How??”

    @science_geek99: “This isn’t even real. Like… how do they look this good after everything??”

    @tagyourboys: “Tagged, shared, saved. These boys are too pretty to forget. 👌”

    @jihofanclub: “Honestly, I don’t even care what the story is… I just want Jiho to smile at me. 🥺✨”

    @protagenergy: “They’re literally the protagonists of life.”

    @itjustfits: “Tell me why this is giving ‘survivors with a dark past’ vibes??”

    @jangfanclub: “Jang is a WHOLE meal. Jawline could slice my soul. ✨”

    @dramastan4u: “Jiho and Jang, the duo we didn’t know we needed. Somebody get Neftplease on this. 😭”

    @aestheticgoals: “Even the lighting in the tent looks cinematic. THEY KNOW.”

    And before too long, the two scientists entered to inform them of the results of their testing.

    “Alright! Your results are in… Everything’s fine! You two are free to go! Just make sure to talk to your insurance companies about compensation for lost property,” the scientist announced cheerfully as she stepped into the tent, no longer clad in her hazmat suit.

    A collective sigh of relief escaped Jiho and Jang as they got up from their beds.

    “Uh, hold on,” one of the scientists called out, stopping the pair before they could head toward the exit at the far side of the tent.

    “Do you two want to—” Su-hee began, only to be interrupted by her colleague.

    “Give us your contact info! You know, in case we need to follow up,” the other scientist said with a bright smile as she walked up to Jiho; letting Su-hee face Jang.

    “Uh…” Jiho scratched the back of his head as he turned around. “My phone’s dead and gone, left back there. But sure, I’ll give it to you.” He accepted the phone handed to him and typed in his number.

    ‘That’s strange. I’ve never heard of a procedure where you directly put your number into their phone…’ Jiho thought, pausing briefly before a realization hit him. 

    ‘Wait… does she just want my number to hang out?’

    A faint blush crept up his cheeks as he handed the phone back to her. “H-here,” he stammered.

    She took the phone with a knowing, mischievous smirk. He’s so cute… she thought, keeping her expression cool as she said, “Thanks! Call me Cha.”

    Jiho lowered his gaze, feeling a mix of emotions. ‘Right, I do look more muscular and taller than before…’ The thought stirred something in him, and he clenched his fists. 

    ‘Bet that’d excite you, huh, Eunhee?’ he mused grimly.

    “I don’t have a phone,” Jang’s voice suddenly cut through Jiho’s thoughts.

    “W-what?” Su-hee stammered, startled.

    “I said, I don’t have a phone. Haven’t had one for years. Just shitty devices that suck your brain and mess you up for life. Miss me with that. And sorry, not sorry; but I’m not here to fulfill your erotic fantasies,” Jang snapped before turning on his heel and walking away, leaving the bewildered girl frozen in place.

    “I’ll talk to him,” Jiho said with a quick bow, then added, “Thanks for everything!” before hurrying after Jang.

    “Cha,” Su-hee muttered, her voice barely above a whisper as she stood frozen, watching Jang walk away with his effortless confidence. Her heart thumped in her chest. 

    “I think I’m in love… He’s so intense…”

    “You’re not about to lecture me,” Jang muttered without breaking stride as he noticed Jiho walk up to him.

    “Just tell me why you lied. It’s probably not the smartest move to be rude to those people.” Jiho exclaimed.

    “…I didn’t fucking lie,” Jang shot back.

    “Huh?” Jiho blinked in confusion.

    “I haven’t had a phone in years. Didn’t need one. Meant every word I said.”

    “Oh… Really? I figured, you know, since you were such a bad bully, you’d have one. Like, to film nerds or something…”

    “SHIT, YOU WATCH TOO MANY MOVIES, BITCH,” Jang barked, his voice echoing as they walked. “I’m a 90s-style bully. Everything old-school. No phones, no tech—none of that shit. And I’m not just a bully. I’m worse than a gangster.”

    “Weird,” Jiho remarked dryly.

    ‘Especially considering the ridiculous amount of comics you’ve probably read…’

    “Shut up,” Jang snarled, his tone sharp as a brief memory flickered across his mind like lightning.

    ————–

    “You don’t need no phone,” a gruff voice barked.

    “You’re just a freeloader in a wheelchair, disowned by your parents. Who the FUCK’s gonna call you?”

    ————–

    “…Just shut up,” Jang muttered again, this time under his breath, his expression unreadable. “I’ll do whatever the fuck I want.”

    “I get it, I get it,” Jiho sighed, turning his gaze forward.

    The two continued in silence until they reached the edge of the quarantine zone, stepping into the crisp night air under a canopy of stars.

    “Lookie here, two more made it out,” a guard commented, eyeing them from his post.

    “You missed the press,” the guard continued with a smirk. “Had you come out three days ago, you’d have been celebrities (especially with your looks, jesus christ).” Even the male guard couldn’t help but whistle in awe. 

    “Guess no one expects anyone else to survive at this point.” He exchanged a glance with his buddy before walking off.

    Jiho and Jang stood there in the stillness of the night, the vast sky glittering above.

    “I guess we’re walking?” Jiho muttered. But before the thought could settle, the quiet was broken by the hum of an engine. A sleek limousine pulled up, its tinted window rolling down with a smooth hiss.

    “..!!!” Jiho gasped, his eyes widening as he caught sight of the man inside. An older figure with a wide, knowing grin peered out at them.

    Jang’s eyes widened in recognition. 

    “Fuck me… That old bastard’s gonna screw me over now, isn’t he?” His head darted left and right, scanning for signs of police, his ears straining for the sound of sirens.

    “Relax,” Jiho said, stepping forward toward the limousine. His tone was steady as he called out,

    “Marcel, right?”

    “Indeed, Monsieur Jiho. A pleasure to see you…” Marcel replied, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. His gaze drifted past Jiho, landing on Jang, who was awkwardly looking away, his anxiety plain to see.

    “Ah, don’t worry,” Jiho began with a smile. “Turns out he was just drugged with something back then.”

    “WHAT?!” Jang’s head snapped up, his voice sharp.

    “He was actually waterboarded and tortured by his family, discarded by society, and stepped on his whole youth. So, naturally, everyone he meets feels like an enemy to him. But as I got to know him, he’s actually a pretty standout person—though he’s got a temper. He helped me survive in the Quarantine Zone,” Jiho explained casually.

    “O-oh… Is that so? How… unfortunate,” Marcel replied, tilting his head, his narrowed eyes betraying his confusion as he glanced at Jang.

    “HEY! WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE SAYING, YOU LITTLE SHIT?! I’M NO CHARITY CASE!!” Jang exploded, stomping toward the limo. He shoved Jiho aside, glaring down at Marcel. “DON’T LISTEN TO HIM! I MEANT EVERY SINGLE THING I DID TO YOU! AND I’D DO IT A BILLION TIMES OVER!”

    “See what I mean, Marcel?” Jiho groaned, struggling against Jang’s grip as he pushed back. “Hyung is so brainrotted that even when someone says something nice about him, he acts like a rabid monkey.”

    “SHUT UP, YOU LITTLE BITCH, BEFORE I CRUSH YOU!!” Jang bellowed, his face flushed with embarrassment and anger.

    “Monsieur Jiho.” Marcel’s firm voice cut through the chaos like a blade, silencing the scuffle. Both Jiho and Jang froze, their heads snapping toward him.

    “Surely this can be settled later. We need to move quickly,” Marcel stated calmly, pressing a button to open the limo’s door with a soft click.

    “Marcel?” Jiho muttered as both he and Jang turned to look at the open car door, its inviting interior now visible.

    “Your mother is planning to leave the city. I’m unsure if she already has. Monsieur…”

    “…It’s Jang,” Jang interjected.

    “Monsieur Jang is welcome to join as well. But we must hurry to your home.”

    “I-I see!” Jiho stammered, his face flushing with worry as he quickly hurried to the back seat.

    Before he could settle in, Jang grabbed him by the collar, pulling him upright. His eyes narrowed as he turned a sharp glare toward Marcel.

    “Fuck that,” Jang spat.

    “Hyung?!” Jiho exclaimed, stumbling as he twisted to look at Jang, whose grip was as firm as his unyielding gaze.

    “Why the FUCK would you go out of your way for this little bitch?” Jang growled. 

    “I get that he saved you or whatever, but you’re well-off, aren’t you? Out here, this is your world. You can do whatever the fuck you want. Even if this punk screams to the heavens that he saved you, it only matters if you admit it. In other words…”

    Jang’s eyes flared with suspicion as he leaned closer to Marcel. “You don’t owe SHIT to him. How do we know this isn’t a trap?”

    Marcel remained silent for a moment, his gaze steady as he regarded Jang.

    “Monsieur Jiho,” Marcel said finally, “you have found yourself a great friend. Cherish him.”

    Jang flinched, his grip loosening as his glare faltered, his heart suddenly pounding in his chest.

    “As for what your friend said, he is correct. I owe you nothing, save for the customs we hold dear. I pride myself on being a pragmatic man. Yet, more than any promise I’ve made to myself or to you, this is a promise I made to my lady. She made me swear to ensure that you and your family meet.”

    “Amelie?” Jiho exclaimed, his voice rising. “She’s okay?”

    “Indeed,” Marcel replied, his voice calm but resolute. His gaze shifted to Jang, unwavering. “And I ask that you believe me when I say this: I shan’t break a promise to her at any cost.” His words carried a weight that was impossible to ignore, his fierce eyes locking onto Jang’s.

    “…”

    “Hey, little bitch,” Jang said after a brief silence, his tone quieter but no less sharp.

    “You know your way home, right?”

    “Yeah,” Jiho nodded hesitantly.

    Jang turned back to Marcel, his gaze hardening once more.

    “If you take even a shortcut off the path he tells you, I’ll destroy this car—and your life. You hear me, OLD MAN?!” Jang spat, his voice filled with venom.

    Jiho’s eyes widened with concern, his gaze flickering nervously between the two. He feared Jang’s aggression might be taken the wrong way by Marcel.

    But Marcel’s expression remained calm, unreadable. 

    “I understand,” he said simply, his tone steady. “Now. Hurry.”

    Without further delay, the two climbed into the limo, and it smoothly pulled away, heading in the direction of Jiho’s home.

    “Holy shit… Su-hee, did you see this?”

    “Confirmed, supermodels.”

    ELSEWHERE…

    Hoo?

    Two players managed to survive the Seoul Quarantine Zone?

    And working together, no less?

    Fascinating… one of them hasn’t even activated his System yet.

    How very interesting.

    A game worth watching, wouldn’t you agree?

    M͓͉̝a͎͎̳y̴͈̼͉b̞̲̰e̶̯̟̠…

    BIG THANKS To my Patreon: SparkyZinger