Blood trickled down my arm, warm and steady. I pressed a shaking hand to the wound, my breath sharp between clenched teeth. The scent of damp earth and decay thickened the air as I crouched behind the remains of a crumbling house, waiting. The cut burned—sharp, relentless—but I had no time to care.

  The wind stirred the leaves, their rustling the only sign of life. I leaned my head against the wall, looking up. Nothing moved. No shadows shifted. Just the whisper of the breeze.

  I let my eyes slip shut, surrendering to the sun’s warmth on my skin.

  Then I heard it.

  Footsteps. Slow. Deliberate. Too controlled to be infected.

  My breath hitched. My heart pounded—too fast, too loud. I pressed myself tighter against the wall, fingers inching toward my knife.

  “Hey there.”

  A voice cut through the silence. Too close. Too unexpected.

  I spun, every muscle in my body tensed. My knife was in my hand before I even thought about it, ready to strike. My heart pounded against my ribs, adrenaline spiking through me.

  But the man stood a few meters away, leaning against the wall. He raised a hand, smirking.

  “Whoa there, killer. That’s one hell of a greeting.”

  Tall. Silver-haired, with a surprisingly young face. Unfazed by the blade in my grip. His gaze swept over me, calm, assessing. Watching me like he’d seen this reaction before.

  “Who the hell are you?” I demanded.

  “Just a stranger passing by.”

  My grip on the knife tightened, muscles coiled with tension. Nobody in this world was “just passing by.” My sharp gaze scanned him from head to toe, my stance guarded. He was lying—or hiding something. I fought the instinctive urge to run.

  When he saw me on edge, he turned around to leave without another word. I stayed rooted in place, watching him walk away. I exhaled softly and returned to dressing my wound when I felt he was far enough. But his voice rang out again, louder this time.

  “I can help you with that if you let me.”

  I glanced at him from the corner of my eye but stayed silent. Asking for help wasn’t in my nature. I despised the idea of appearing weak or needy.

  “I don’t need help. What do you want?”

  “Nothing really, just thought you might need my help.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Why would I trust a stranger I just met?”

  “Because, obviously, I’m handsome.” He grinned.

  I laughed. A stupid, reckless thing to do these days. For years, I had learned to make myself small, to disappear, to never invite attention. Attention was dangerous. Yet here I was, dropping my guard for some cocky idiot who thought charm could save him. As my eyes caught his gaze, something flickered behind his cocky smile—sadness maybe, pain perhaps, or possibly something darker. Or maybe I was finally losing my mind.

  “Oh, really? Keep dreaming, bud. Maybe handsome enough to attract zombies.”

  He took a step closer. I stiffened, shifting my weight, my grip tightening around my knife handle. My gut screamed at me to move, to get away, but I held my ground. I wasn’t weak anymore. His smirk didn’t waver.

  “look at you, You can’t even take your eyes off me.”

  I scoffed, trying to mask the unease twisting in my stomach. "Yeah, because I’m observing you. In case you—" I cut myself off, frowning. "Why am I even explaining myself?"

  The words had barely left my mouth before the irritation settled in. At him. At myself. "Are you always this full of yourself?"

  “Yes, I am.”

  I groaned. “Try not being an idiot, and maybe I’ll look somewhere else.”

  “Damn. You flirt like a serial killer. I like it.”

  “You must not get much attention from girls, huh?”

  “Quite the opposite. They line up for me, but I like the ones with knives.”

  “Yeah, I’m not buying that. Now piss off.”

  “Don’t you want to know why?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t care, but if it’ll shut you up, enlighten me.”

  “It’s my charm. Ladies find it irresistible.”

  I scoffed, unimpressed. I suddenly realized that he had cut the distance between us a lot while we were bantering. In a swift move, he reached out to me and held my arm. My heart stopped for a minute due to shock. But when he placed a hand over my wound, my skepticism turned to something bigger. Heat surged beneath his touch, pulsing gently at first, then growing stronger, deeper, followed by a prickling sensation. Seconds later, my wound was gone.

  I blinked, heart pounding. That wasn't possible. People didn't heal wounds. Not like that.

  “How did... How did you do that?” I asked, my voice shaking.

  “If I told you, I’d lose my powers.”

  I shook my head, trying to process what had just happened. I looked at my arm, now completely healed. “Very funny.”

  “I guess now you owe me.”

  I flexed my fingers, expecting to feel the sting of torn flesh, but there was nothing, just smooth skin where my wound had been. My chest tightened. It was not possible, and worse than that, nothing came without a price. I’d learned that the hard way. People who helped weren’t kind. They wanted something in return. I narrowed my eyes and responded.

  “Why would I owe you? I didn’t ask for your help.”

  “No, but without me, that wound could’ve gotten infected.”

  Despite my irritation, I was grateful. I’d lost people to infections before, but I wasn’t about to admit it. “Whatever. Thanks for healing me.”

  “Come on, a simple “Thanks” doesn’t cut it. I expect something in return.”

  Of course he does. Nothing comes for free in this world—and apparently, he’s no exception.

  “Like what?”

  “A kiss.”

  What? A kiss?

  Not my knife, not my food supply, not even my shoes? Just... a kiss?

  Is he serious? Is he joking—or just a creep?

  I rolled my eyes. “Not a chance.”

  “Don’t be so cold.”

  “I don’t even know your name.”

  “Fair enough. Just a peck on the cheek, then.”

  I sighed. “Fine. Whatever.”

  As I leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek, in a second he turned his head, and our lips met. I immediately pulled back, my face burning.

  “Hey! What the hell was that?”

  “Tasty. Thanks for that.”

  My frustration bubbled over. My heart still hadn't calmed down.

  “You’re insufferable.”

  “I’ve been told.”

  I crossed my arms, glaring at him. “What’s your name, anyway?”

  “Ladies first.”

  I hesitated. “Ellie.”

  “Beautiful name.”

  I looked away, hiding the faint blush creeping up my cheeks. “Thanks.”

  “It doesn’t suit your stubborn personality, though.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Don’t worry. I like girls with strong personalities.”

  I shook my head, scoffing. “Yeah, yeah. I bet you do.”

  He took a step back, his expression unreadable and I turned my head away from him, making it clear I wasn’t interested in his bullshit. I heard his voice from behind me.

  “May we cross paths again.”

  I didn’t respond. I planned to give him the cold shoulder. A few seconds later, I heard nothing more. When I turned around, he was nowhere to be found. One moment he was there—the next, gone, like a ghost. A cold shiver ran through me.

  I didn’t believe in miracles. I didn’t believe in people who helped without wanting something in return.

  So what the hell did he want from me?

  I stood there, dumbfounded. I was now even more curious about him than I had been before. Where had he vanished to? What kind of trick had he used to disappear? And most importantly, who was he anyway?

  Curiosity was dangerous. I’d learned that lesson the hard way—through bruises and scars. If you looked too long, they looked back. If you let them close, they took. I wasn’t sure what he was after, but I didn’t want to find out the hard way.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  I started walking again, searching for shelter, but I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Despite the healing and the kiss, I still didn’t fully trust him—and honestly, I wasn’t sure if I ever would. Yet, he intrigued me, leaving me both annoyed and puzzled.

  A couple of hours passed, the sun beating down on me. The heat was relentless, and I had been walking toward a bushy area, hoping to find shelter for the nightfall. But my mind was elsewhere. I found myself constantly thinking about him—the way he made me both annoyed and flustered, how he appeared out of nowhere, caught me off guard, gained my trust without even trying, healed my wound, and stole a kiss as if it were nothing. He did all of that effortlessly.

  I wanted to see him again. I wanted to talk to him again. As much as I hated to admit it, I found him annoyingly captivating.

  I was still walking through the bushes, searching for a place to stay the night. Hours passed, and there were only a few left before the sun would completely set. I was lost in thought when a whisper brushed against my ear, so close I felt the warmth of his breath.

  I froze. My knife was in my hand before I even thought about it.

  "Were you thinking about me?"

  I nearly jumped out of my skin, shouting as I spun around. My heart pounded as I came face-to-face with him. And for some reason, I was relieved to see him again.

  "Of course not. I wasn’t thinking about you at all, moron."

  He was staring right into my eyes. I crossed my arms and looked away to avoid his gaze.

  "Seriously, how’d you sneak up behind me like that? It’s creepy, you know? Besides, I’m sharp and always alert. I didn’t hear you approach at all."

  But he just kept staring, a mild smile on his lips. I couldn’t help but look back into his eyes, getting lost in them. Why did I find him so captivating? I shouldn’t have been, yet here I was.

  "I can always come to help when you need me."

  I rolled my eyes, shaking my head. "What, are you my guardian angel or something?"

  " Maybe. Or maybe I just like seeing that blush on your face when I ask you to give me a kiss."

  My face burned. The thought of giving him more kisses was embarrassing.

  "What if I just say no?"

  "Then I don’t appear anymore. Hahaha."

  He let out a big laugh. I was silent for a moment, contemplating his words. On one hand, I was sure I didn’t want to let him have the attitude that he could take whatever he wanted. On the other, I didn’t want him to disappear again. I was conflicted.

  "Why the hell do you want me to kiss you anyway? We hardly even know each other."

  He responded in a carefree tone while casually scanning the surroundings. "I don’t want you to kiss me now. But feel free to kiss me when you feel like it."

  "So, you just want me to kiss you whenever I feel like it? That sounds like it’s only going to get you nowhere since I don’t want to do that at all."

  "We’ll see about that. I’m sure you’ll start to like me at some point."

  I crossed my arms, scoffing. I hated how accurate his words felt. I didn’t want to admit it, but deep down, I knew he was right. I already felt comfortable around him, and eventually, I might give in to the temptation of kissing him. I sighed, looking away.

  "By the way, where were you going, and how did you hurt your arm?"

  I looked down at my arm. The cut had already healed thanks to whatever he had done. At least it hadn’t gotten infected. Thinking back to when I had been chased by the infected, I spoke up.

  "I was being chased by some infected and cut my arm while jumping a fence. I wasn’t paying attention and landed right on a broken piece of wood. It cut my arm pretty deep. Luckily, I managed to lose them and hide for a while before you showed up."

  "Do you have a place to go?"

  I shook my head. I had been sleeping in abandoned houses or tents in the woods. Technically homeless—but in reality, a drifter. I usually kept to myself, traveling from place to place, scavenging for supplies.

  "So you don’t have any friends either, right?"

  I was quiet for a moment. I preferred solitude. Dealing with other people usually caused more harm than good. I huffed before answering.

  "I have friends, not that it’s any of your business."

  A cheeky smile tugged at his lips. "Am I considered a friend too?"

  I scowled a bit, annoyed by the way my stomach did a stupid flip when he said that. I was silent for a few beats before answering him.

  "More like an acquaintance, really."

  "Then let’s take our relationship to the next level."

  My stomach flipped again. Why did he always make me feel so flustered? I tried to act indifferent. I folded my arms and looked up at him.

  "And how exactly do you propose we do that?"

  "Let’s travel together for a few days. I’ll look after you, and you’ll have my back."

  His answer surprised me. I had expected another carefree, flirty remark—something like, ‘Let me kiss you, and we’ll be best friends.’ But this time, his words felt different. More mature. Even… heartwarming.

  I hesitated. It had been ages since I had traveled with anyone. I’d always preferred to be on my own. I wanted to believe he was different. But I had thought that before—trusted the wrong people, paid the price. Was I really willing to take that risk again? If he was decent, it would be a nice change of pace, especially if he would be there to look after me. But it was a huge risk. I sighed.

  I opened my mouth to say no—to shut him down like I always did. But the words came out differently.

  " Tch… fine. I’ll travel with you for a few days. But just a few days."

  I regretted it the moment it left my mouth, but then I thought—if he turned out like the rest, I could leave. No attachments. No regrets.

  "You seem like the lone-wolf type," he said, voice relaxed. "I feel you. Most people are more trouble than they’re worth anyway."

  I gave a small nod. It was true. Traveling alone was what I was used to. It was easier. People were just a pain to deal with.

  But he… he was different. And I wasn’t sure why.

  "Don’t worry about me. I’m not most people—and I can handle myself."

  A small scoff escaped from me. He was definitely stronger than I was—physically, at least. There was no use denying that. Despite his strength, however, I was still a bit worried. He could end up being a psychopath, or maybe he’d just cause trouble somehow. I had managed to survive all on my own for a long time, and I was confident in my own survival skills.

  "Better not slow me down. Got it?" I said, crossing my arms.

  "Don’t worry, Elli," he grinned. "It’ll be fun. I’m at your service—with my amazing teleporting powers and other cool abilities. Hahaha." And he started laughing.

  "Touché..." I muttered begrudgingly.

  I brushed it off as just more of the nonsense he liked to spout. I didn’t believe for a second that anything illogical was happening. Sure, he had healed my wound, but who knew what kind of scientific trick was behind that?

  Teleporting? Please. No one could do that.

  But still...

  Something about him felt strong. Too strong. And I couldn’t shake it.

  "I know a place around here," He said. "Let’s take shelter for the night."

  I nodded, looking around. I had no objections. I was exhausted and needed somewhere safe and dry to sleep.

  We walked for two hours in silence through the woods until an old wooden cabin appeared in the distance. It was rundown, nestled beside a river, but it looked like the perfect shelter.

  I admired the old cabin as we approached it. It looked stable but filthy, clearly abandoned and left unmaintained for ages. Even then, it was better than spending the night exposed to the elements.

  "It’s not the best place ever, but it should be enough to keep us safe for the night," I muttered.

  I stepped inside first, scanning the interior. It was in bad shape—dusty, cobwebbed, and empty. Nobody had been here in a long time. I let my bag drop from my shoulders, dust kicking up around me as it hit the floor. There wasn’t much inside—an old carpet, a few tattered blankets, a semi-ruined fireplace, and nothing else.

  He moved around, checking the doors and windows before heading outside.

  I watched him from the doorway as he sat by the river, drinking water. He pulled a fishing string from his bag, wrapped it around a wooden stick, then started digging in the dirt—looking for worms to use as bait.

  I sat in the corner of the cabin, pulling my knife from my belt and cleaning it. Every now and then, my gaze drifted back to him. He was strange—an enigma. I couldn’t figure him out.

  Eventually, my eyes lingered on him for too long. Why did I feel so drawn to him? He was nothing but trouble. So why did he captivate me in such a strange way? Why was he even sticking around? Did he have some wicked plan I wasn’t aware of?

  His voice snapped me out of my thoughts. He held up a small fish triumphantly.

  "Is that all you caught? Just one tiny fish?" I said, unimpressed.

  He narrowed his eyes like a disappointed kid. "I guess you prefer to sleep hungry, right?"

  I rolled my eyes. "I’d rather be hungry than eat that tiny thing. I prefer a bigger meal than that."

  "That’s even better," he smirked. "More food for me if you don’t eat."

  I huffed in annoyance. He was infuriating, but... I almost liked the way he teased me. As much as I hated to admit it, I was enjoying his company.

  "Whatever, suit yourself. You can keep the dumb fish."

  He turned back to the river, continuing his fishing. I stood up, bored, and started cleaning the room to make it more suitable for sleeping. By the time I finished, the sun had disappeared.

  I walked outside and found him still by the river, a small campfire burning nearby. I sat beside him, watching as he fished.

  He seemed deep in thought, so much so that he didn’t even notice me at first. I stayed silent, amused by his stillness. At the beginning, I hadn’t cared who he was and what was his intentions, but now I had a million questions I wanted to throw at him.

  "Any progress?" I asked.

  He seemed to snap back to life, turning to face me and locking eyes with mine.

  "What do you think? I’ve caught four massive fish."

  I raised a brow, skeptical. "Not bad. Better than I thought you’d do. Let me see them."

  "Of course," he grinned. "I’m a professional fisherman. You can check the bucket."

  My excitement turned to disappointment when I saw the fish—four small ones, all the same size as the first.

  "You don’t exactly look like a professional to me," I scoffed. "You really do suck at fishing."

  He raised his hands in surrender. "I’m not. I lied. Hahaha."

  I chuckled, shaking my head. "Yeah, I figured that much."

  "Look after my precious catch. I’m going to get more wood for the fire."

  He stood up and walked toward the bushes. I watched him disappear into the darkness. The moment he was gone, everything around me felt colder, darker—like the world I had known for years. The small fire flickered, casting restless shadows.

  Then, I realized something unsettling.

  His presence had brought light, warmth, and… something else. Something I hadn’t felt in a long time. Minutes passed. Still no sign of him. My patience thinned.

  "Tch... Hey, asshole! How long are you going to take?"

  No response.

  A low, wet groan echoed through the trees. Then another.

  I spun around, my hand flying to my knife. My breath hitched. Shadows shifted between the branches

  Four infected emerged from the trees, surrounding me before I could react.

  "Come on... I dare you to come closer," I growled, shifting into a defensive stance.

  I grabbed a rock and hurled it at one of them, hitting its leg. It stumbled, giving me an opening. Without hesitation, I lunged forward, driving my knife into its eye. It collapsed, but the others were closing in fast.

  One of them—a runner—charged at me, too fast for me to react. My mind raced. I can’t dodge in time.

  Suddenly, strong arms grabbed me from behind and yanked me back. The infected’s claws missed me by an inch.

  Relief flooded me as I turned and saw him.

  He stepped in front of me and delivered a brutal kick, sending the runner flying.

  "Good job," he said, smirking. "You took one down. I knew you were a badass."

  I folded my arms, trying to hide the stupid flip in my stomach.

  "Tch... Yeah, well, someone had to do it."

  I noticed something then—his arm. He was holding a sword.

  The runner infected had already gotten back on its feet, charging at him with terrifying speed, while the second infected—a slower one—dragged itself forward, closing in from the other side at the same time.

  But he was still facing me, mid-compliment, completely unaware.

  "Behind you!" I shouted.

  Without looking, he spun, The blade whistled through the air slashing through them with a single powerful swing.

  I stood there, stunned. He took down two infected in one move. He barely even looked at them.

  He bent down to pick up the firewood he had dropped. "You finish the last one off, and I’ll make the fire."

  I scowled. "Tch... Chickened out already? Fine..."

  One infected remained. I gripped my knife and stepped forward. It snarled, dragging itself toward me on a crippled leg—slow, but relentless.

  I wasn’t afraid. With a swift strike, I jumped in front of it, dodging its claws like it was nothing, and, like a pro, drove my knife straight into its head.

  He chuckled. "Nice job, Ellie. Hahaha."

  I was showing off — and I knew it. I sat down, cleaning my knife, pretending like it was just another day. But his words stuck with me.

  "Just wanted to see your fighting style," he said casually.

  "Well, you saw it," I replied. "Happy?"

  He grinned. "Yes. Now I know I can rely on you."

  Something about that made my chest tighten.

  He can rely on me? Why?

  What were his intentions? Why did he need to know my fighting style? And for what reason did he need to rely on me? In this world, no one cared about anyone. Survival came first, and people wouldn’t hesitate to sacrifice someone else if it meant living a little longer.

  Trust. It was a feeling I hadn’t experienced in a long, long time.

  "You can… rely on me, huh?" I muttered, shifting uncomfortably. "Well, I guess that’s… good, then."

  "Yes, that’s good," he said smoothly. "Beautiful, strong, and stubborn. deadly combination. Hahaha."

  I tried to act indifferent, but the warmth spreading across my face betrayed me. My cheeks felt hotter than the flames in front of me. His words caught me off guard—the way he described me like I was something more than just another survivor. I wasn’t used to compliments, especially not from someone like him.

  I wasn’t sure. But for the first time in a long time, I felt like maybe—just maybe—I wasn’t alone.

  I scoffed, rolling my eyes. "Tch… Shut up, dumbass."

  While I was still replaying our conversation in my mind, I noticed him tending to the fire. The flames had grown, crackling as he cooked the fish he had caught earlier. The scent hit me, and my stomach betrayed me with a loud growl.

  I was suddenly reminded of just how hungry I was. I tried to keep my expression neutral, but my tongue darted out, licking my lips in anticipation.

  Several minutes later, I heard the best words imaginable.

  "Food is ready."