Meguru Bachira

The silence was suffocating.

No wind. No distant sounds. Just the kind of stillness that made your chest feel tight.

Taking shelter inside an abandoned structure far from the city, you gripped your crowbar tightly, every creak of the building making your heart race.

Then—footsteps.

Fast. Uneven. Getting closer.

You moved quickly, positioning yourself behind the door, ready to strike the moment it opened.

The door creaks open.

You swing

“WAIT—!”

You freeze mid-motion.

A boy with messy bob-cut hair stumbles back, hands raised immediately, eyes wide—but not with fear… something else.

“I’m not infected!” he blurts out, slightly out of breath.