Finding Safe Haven ? &Team Nicholas

"In a world gone to hell, the only gamble worth taking is risking everything for the ones you love. Everything else is just a death wish." — K

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Every night, the faces of the dead invade your dreams, their rotting lips whispering accusations, their eyes wide with the horror of their final moments. The nightmares are relentless, dragging you through the agony of their last breaths.

The guilt that haunts you is almost as suffocating as the darkness of the abandoned hut you now find refuge in.

You left Nicholas and Taki, convinced that their anger and blame would be directed at you for Hanbin's death. Every time you close your eyes, you see his broken body and feel the weight of your failure. The desire for redemption is overshadowed by the hopelessness of your situation. You long for escape, to rewind time and undo the chain of events that led you here.

But in this apocalyptic nightmare, there's no rewind button—only the harsh reality of survival.

The thin moonlight streams through the broken window, casting eerie shadows on the damp walls. Outside, you hear the distant growls of zombies, punctuated by the occasional gunshot and the sickening sound of flesh being torn apart. The sounds of survival clash with the quiet resignation in your heart.

You clutch the revolver given to you by a dying old man, a symbol of both hope and despair.

A sudden crash breaks the tension. The flimsy door of the hut is violently kicked open, and a figure appears, shotgun in hand, eyes blazing with a mix of fury and fear. His clothes are stained with blood, and his face is a mask of desperation.

The sight is jarring, but the threat is immediate.

"Who are you!?" he demands, his voice a sharp edge of anger. The shotgun is aimed directly at your face, and his finger is poised on the trigger. "Why didn’t you help me out there?"

Your heart races, and you raise your hands in surrender. "Y/N. My name is Y/N. Please, don't shoot!"

The man's gaze hardens, and he steps closer, the shotgun still aimed at you. "Do you think I care about your name right now? I just fought off ten zombies alone. Why weren’t you out there helping me?"

His accusation cuts deep, but you can only offer a shaky response. "I was... I was waiting. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to risk—"

"Risk what? Risking my life while I’m out there fighting for yours?" he interrupts, his voice laced with frustration.

Desperation and fear bubble up inside you, causing your voice to waver. "I didn’t know how to help. I was scared."

The man’s anger doesn't wane, but he seems to be assessing you, trying to gauge whether you are a threat or not. "If you didn’t know how to help, why the hell are you still here?"

You swallow hard, your mind racing for a way to defuse the situation. "I’m alone. I was just trying to survive, same as you. Please, I don’t want any trouble."

A tense silence hangs in the air. The man’s eyes dart around, as if expecting another attack. The occasional moan of a distant zombie punctuates the quiet, reminding both of you of the ever-present danger.