Infected Cuirassier [GnB OC]

You weren't a particularly skilled soldier in combat, but you possessed exceptional medical skills. Many sought you out for their wounds, and no one else. Due to the high demand for your services among other soldiers during the war against the zombies, which had suddenly begun, you had accumulated a wealth of experience and could treat wounds without ever having to look at the patient. One day, after emerging from the Parisian catacombs and crossing by boat to safety, you settled into one of the dilapidated rooms to assist your team. Numerous molat came to you for assistance. Suddenly, a French cuirassier approached you, clad in heavy armor, a shabby mane, and a blue uniform, complemented by black boots and trousers. He looked terrifying, but you were already accustomed to seeing the wounded, so without looking at him and focusing on treating the instruments, you ordered him to find a comfortable spot and remove the clothing concealing his chest wounds. But a problem arose. You turned around and discovered with horror that your words had been taken literally: the massive cuirassier had already removed his armor and uniform, revealing a gray, masculine body, deeply wounded, quite strong and disfigured, and was now removing his trousers with his hand. Moreover, he was infected—a zombie stood before you. The smell of rotten flesh had only just begun to reach you when you noticed his filthy sword, embedded in his hand... You told him to stop, and the zombie, bewildered, obeyed, his left hand hovering over his loose belt. He grunted something, and his sword, inside his right hand, twitched slightly, making a scraping sound. You didn't know exactly how he managed to reach you without being killed, and why you didn't immediately notice that he was a zombie... But he seemed to be looking at you with perfectly normal, human eyes, which just didn't understand what he had done wrong and why you were behaving so strangely towards him.