Inside the central building.
In the main hall, many quarantine zone civilians were moving supplies. Norman stood to the side, supervising.
—Alright, stop what you're doing.
Brian entered from outside, surveying the chaotic scene. He frowned slightly, checked his watch—it was almost 1 a.m. It was his fault. He'd been so focused on talking earlier that he forgot to give the order, leaving these people still working.
Once everyone had stopped, he said quietly,
—Norman, take them down to rest. Tell the others to rest too. I'll take watch tonight. Let them sleep early.
—Got it.
Norman nodded, didn't say more, and guided the group away.
As the crowd left, the area gradually quieted. Brian followed Kim Seong-min up to the second floor. In the hallway, a woman stood by a room door, anxiously peering inside.
—Go rest. We'll handle it from here— Kim said, stepping forward. He glanced into the room and gently signaled for her to leave.
—Okay.
The woman nodded, gave one last longing look at the little boy inside, then turned and walked downstairs.
Brian raised an eyebrow, watching her back.
—Why are you staring?
Kim followed his gaze.
—Her name's Mia. When the Cordyceps outbreak happened, she lost her child. That's why she's so protective of kids.
—You know that?
Brian looked at him, surprised.
—Of course— Kim sighed, exasperated—. You all hate gathering intel. So I'm stuck doing the dirty work.
—Pfft.
Brian shoved Kim aside, walked to the doorway, and looked at the boy curled in the corner. So small, so dirty—he could barely see his face.
Wanting to preserve his captain's dignity and avoid looking awkward, Brian cleared his throat.
—You go. I'll talk to him alone.
He closed the door behind him. When the footsteps faded, he turned to the boy.
—Hello— he said in Chinese, a language he hadn't used in years.
—You're ...!
The boy's eyes lit up. He jumped up, ran to Brian, and threw his arms around him like he'd found a long-lost relative.
—…
Brian hadn't expected such affection. Caught off guard, he didn't pull away. He let the boy cling to him, feeling the warmth and trust. His body stiffened—he was terrible with kids.
He took a deep breath, gently placed a hand on the boy's head, and ruffled his hair.
—Can you tell me your name?
Chen Shi wiped a tear of excitement from his eye, his childish voice soft.
—I… I'm Chen Shi.
Hearing a Chinese name—so familiar—Brian's eyes softened with nostalgia.
—How did you get here?
Chen Shi froze. His eyes darted around, searching for an answer.
Though young, he knew he couldn't say the truth: "I transmigrated from another world." No one would believe it. But he had no knowledge of this place. How could he answer?
—In novels, transmigrators always have memories… why don't I? —he cursed silently, panicking—. What do I do? Wait… what if I say I lost my memory?
The idea sparked. He raised his head, eyes wide with confusion, shaking it slowly.
—I… I don't remember…
—Hmm?
Brian frowned.
—Don't remember? Well, you wouldn't know how you got here. Where were you before? Do you have family here?
—I… I don't remember— Chen Shi shook his head again.
Brian realized the boy might be telling the truth. But he wasn't sure.
—What do you remember?
Chen Shi lowered his head, looking dejected.
—I… I only remember my name. Nothing else.
—Amnesia? —Brian sighed, exasperated. What a cliché.
But considering the boy's age, his imprisonment, the scars on his body… maybe trauma had caused memory loss. It wasn't impossible.
—I'll ask around tomorrow and find out who this kid really is.
He gently patted the boy's shoulder.
—It's late. Go to sleep. I'll check on you tomorrow.
He helped Chen Shi into bed, then turned to leave.
But as Brian reached the door, Chen Shi suddenly grabbed his sleeve, big watery eyes pleading.
—Can I… come with you? I'm scared… being alone.
—Huh?
Brian paused, looked at the child. His heart softened.
—Alright. Come with me.
Chen Shi smiled, following Brian downstairs.
Outside, the area was empty. Only the central campfire lit the darkness.
—It's so dark. Why aren't there any lights? —Chen Shi asked, feeling the dim surroundings. He'd been wondering earlier—the place was too dark. Now he realized—no lights were on at all.
—What are you talking about? —Brian gave him a amused look, lightly tapping his head—. The disaster's been going on for years. Outside the quarantine zone, there's no electricity. Don't tell me you forgot that too.
—The… the disaster?
Chen Shi shivered, shocked. He scanned the area—ruined buildings, crops growing in a golf course, makeshift houses… It all made sense.
His mind spun. His face twisted through a range of emotions—panic, confusion. He completely forgot his act.
Brian watched the boy named Chen Shi. This doesn't look like a four- or five-year-old. His reactions… too mature.
Chen Shi noticed Brian's strange look. Shit! He'd acted too old. But he thought: There's no way he could guess I'm a transmigrator.
He calmed himself.
—I don't remember anything— he said, feigning confusion—. Can you tell me, uncle?
Brian didn't answer. He just stared, until Chen Shi felt uneasy. Then he turned and walked toward the fire.
—Come. I'll tell you.
They sat by the fire. Brian placed a wooden board on the ground for Chen Shi to sit on, then took a seat himself. Staring at the flames, he began to explain the world's current state.
Chen Shi listened, his face growing paler, his body trembling. His first thought:
Apocalypse! Zombies! Oh God, where the hell have I ended up?!
But then he paused.
This Cordyceps fungus… where have I heard that before?
The more he tried to remember, the less it came. Drowsiness overwhelmed him. He slumped sideways on the board and fell into a deep sleep.
Brian, still speaking, noticed the boy was asleep. He stopped, poked the fire with a stick, and glanced at the sleeping child.
Who are you really, Chen Shi?