chapter 5

Xie Kai drifted on the edge of consciousness, his mind a tangled web of fragmented memories. His eyelids felt impossibly heavy, his body burning with an unbearable heat, as if a wildfire had been ignited within his very bones.

The last thing he remembered was the grenade-the explosion that should have obliterated everything, the horde of undead and including himself. He shouldn't be alive.

But the pain he felt was not the aftermath of an explosion. It was deeper, more insidious, a searing fire that coiled in his lower body like a venomous serpent. His mind recoiled, struggling to make sense of it. He tried to move, to shift even slightly, but his limbs remained unresponsive, weighed down like iron shackles.

A crushing wave of darkness threatened to drag him under once more. No. He could not succumb.

With desperate instinct, his trembling hand shot up to his throbbing forehead. His fingers brushed against something-cold, metallic. What it was mattered not. Without hesitation, he yanked it free and, in a reckless bid to anchor himself to reality, drove it into his own thigh.

Agony ripped through him like a lightning strike. His eyes snapped open, bloodshot and unfocused, breath ragged. This action of his seemed to draw blood but it did not matter, His thoughts remained muddled, but his body tried to moved on raw instinct, driven by a singular, desperate urge-escape.

His first attempt to stand ended in failure. His legs buckled, sending him crashing onto the cold, unyielding wooden floor. Pain jolted through him, rattling his skull and momentarily clearing the haze clouding his mind.

Gritting his teeth, he dragged himself forward, inch by inch, toward the door ahead. His trembling fingers fumbled for the bronze handle, slick with sweat. With a final, desperate effort, he twisted it open. The heavy wooden door groaned on its hinges, revealing a dimly lit corridor beyond.

Xie Kai clutched the lacquered doorframe, hauling himself upright. His balance wavered, his vision swimming with dark spots. The air was thick with the lingering scent of sandalwood and lotus incense-ordinarily pleasant, but now suffocatingly strong. His stomach churned in protest.

He staggered forward, barely registering his surroundings. The corridor stretched ahead, narrow yet lavish, lined with silk draperies embroidered with golden dragons and phoenixes. Intricate wooden lattice screens cast shifting shadows under the flickering lantern light. The polished floor, though sturdy, creaked beneath his faltering steps. And yet, despite the grandeur, an eerie silence blanketed the space. No footsteps. No movement. Nothing.

And yet... voices. Faint, distant murmurs, carried on an invisible breeze. When he strained to listen, they faded into silence, leaving behind only the pounding of his heart.

Xie Kai's mind refused to process anything. There was no logic, no urgency-only one thought burned within him.

Water. Cold water.

He had to find it.

Driven by that singular need, he stumbled forward, his body moving as if guided by unseen forces.

Then-footsteps.

The rhythmic sound cut through the silence, steady and deliberate.

Xie Kai froze, his head tilting slightly as his unfocused gaze tried to track the approaching figure. The thick haze warped their form, rendering them little more than a shifting shadow gliding toward him. His heart pounded erratically, yet his mind remained blank, detached from the urgency of the moment.

Then, another silhouette emerged beside the first. Two figures, their presence looming over him like wraiths against the dim corridor's flickering lantern light.

The first man carried himself with a distinct air of authority-tall, imposing, his movements deliberate and measured. Was he undead or living? Xie Kai could not tell. Yet something in his steady gait defied the notion of the undead, though Xie Kai's fever-addled mind struggled to trust his own senses.

As the man moved past him, instinct overrode reason. Xie Kai's trembling hand shot out, gripping the stranger's sleeve in a desperate bid for stability. His knees threatened to give way, and without thinking, he leaned forward, his weight pressing against the man's firm frame.

A sharp intake of breath. The man stiffened, muscles tensing beneath the layers of embroidered silk. For a moment, it seemed he would shove Xie Kai away-but instinct won out. A strong arm came up, steadying him just as his burning forehead rested against the cool fabric of the stranger's robes.

A hoarse whisper escaped Xie Kai's lips, barely more than a breath against the man's chest.

"Help..."

The sound startled even himself-raw, unfamiliar. But before he could register the vulnerability in his own voice, the fever surged violently, threatening to drag him back into darkness. His grip tightened involuntarily, fingers curling into the intricate brocade of the man's outer robe. The coolness against his skin was grounding, a tether against the consuming heat.

"Physician."

The word cut through the silence, spoken by a second figure.

Xie Kai flinched. The word rang through his fevered mind like a warning bell. A physician? A doctor? Here? In this place?

Disgust coiled in his gut. There were no doctors in this world anymore-they had been devoured, torn apart by the undead, just like everything else.

A doctor meant the Organization.

Why would those bastards help him now? They had let his mother die.

No-no, he wouldn't go back. He refused to go back. He would rather die than fall into their hands again.

A surge of adrenaline forced weak resistance. "No... not going," he mumbled, breath shallow, fingers trembling as they clung stubbornly to the man's robes. His grip, once desperate, began to loosen, fingers slipping from the embroidered fabric as his strength faded. Yet, just as his hand fell away, it hesitated-hovering in the space between them before sluggishly shifting forward.

With the last of his strength, his trembling fingers brushed against the man's chest, seeking something solid, something steady. Gathering what little willpower remained, he curled his fingers into a weak fist and drummed it feebly against the firm surface beneath the silk-an urgent, wordless plea to move faster.

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