Elena Ward: "…"
So while everyone else had been terrified out of their minds, this man had been chasing excitement instead. Typical of Julian Crowe. Twisted, fearless, and completely unbothered by danger.
She lowered her eyes, and only then did she notice something wrong. At some point—she didn't even remember when—her pants had been torn apart. The fabric was shredded beyond repair. After everything that had happened, what used to be long pants had been reduced to something closer to shorts.
Her pale legs were exposed.
Once, they might have been beautiful. Now they were covered in ugly scars, bruised and swollen, the skin rough and damaged from years of survival in the apocalypse. There was nothing elegant about them anymore.
Since the end of the world began, Elena had always worn long sleeves and long pants. She never exposed her skin unless she had no choice. The sudden feeling of openness made her uncomfortable, almost embarrassed, and she instinctively tried to cover herself.
She looked around the back seat of the vehicle, searching for anything—cloth, blanket, even scrap fabric—but there was nothing.
In the end, she could only tug uselessly at her windbreaker, trying to pull it down farther.
Julian noticed.
Without saying a word, he glanced at her from the corner of his eye and casually tossed the white outer robe he had been holding onto her lap. The dry fabric landed lightly, instantly covering her legs from waist to ankle.
The cold disappeared.
Elena froze for a second, then looked up at him. "Thank you."
Julian didn't respond.
Without his robe, he was left wearing only a white shirt underneath. Rainwater had soaked into it earlier, making the thin fabric cling tightly to his body. The shirt turned faintly transparent, revealing the strong lines of his chest and the clear shape of his abdominal muscles beneath.
Combined with his sharp features and naturally dangerous charm, it gave him a quietly seductive presence—effortless, unintentional, and impossible to ignore.
Julian rested his chin on his hand and stared at Elena with open interest. His gaze wasn't lewd, but it was intense, as if he were dissecting her reaction piece by piece.
His mind replayed the scene from the hospital.
The kiss.
Elena felt her scalp prickle under his stare. The silence grew heavy, uncomfortable. Just as she was about to speak and ask what he was looking at, Julian raised his hand and tapped the metal partition in front of them with the back of his knuckle.
The partition slowly slid down.
Maya Ash's voice came from the front seat. "Boss?"
Julian leaned forward slightly. "Do you know about the R-Type Variant Virus?"
Maya was clearly surprised by the question, but she answered carefully. "The R-Type Variant Virus is a newly identified zombie mutation strain. It's only been around for about three months. So far, it's considered the strongest and most aggressive among known zombie viruses."
Julian interrupted calmly, "If someone gets infected with it, will their brain be affected?"
There was a pause.
"This virus is still under active research by the biology departments of multiple bases," Maya replied honestly. "There's no final conclusion yet."
Julian leaned back, resting a finger against his lips. He absentmindedly brushed his fingertip across them, once… twice…
His eyes never left Elena.
"I don't know why," he said slowly, as if thinking out loud, "but I feel like this virus doesn't just attack the body. It changes the brain structure too."
Elena: "…"
She almost laughed.
If anyone here had brain problems, it was him.
But he had saved her—twice now. That was a fact she couldn't deny. So instead of snapping back, Elena tightened the robe around herself and turned her head to look out the window.
The darkness outside swallowed the road as the vehicle sped forward.
Julian watched her quiet profile, noticed the tension in her shoulders, the faint frustration she tried to hide. After a moment, he lowered his gaze and let out a soft chuckle.
He leaned back into his seat.
His eyes held curiosity. And pleasure.
But he said nothing more.
---
Meanwhile…
North Sector — District Thirteen Base
Adrian Cross stepped out of the virus research laboratory, a thin stack of data reports clenched tightly in his hand.
The researcher's words echoed in his mind, over and over again.
> "The blocking vaccine for the R-Type zombie virus is still under development. However, the mutation probability of the virus strain has been confirmed to decrease daily. After about ten days, the risk drops significantly. Full safety, however, requires at least one month."
Ten days.
Since the train had resumed its journey and arrived safely at District Thirteen Base, Adrian hadn't slept properly for nights. Anxiety gnawed at him constantly, like insects crawling under his skin.
How could he wait ten days?
The supplies he had left behind for Elena were only enough for three.
Three days.
That thought alone made his chest tighten painfully.
He returned to his residence immediately, gathered several trusted team members under the cover of night, selected a reinforced modified vehicle, and prepared to head back toward the Northern Ice Wastes.
As the vehicle rolled out of the garage, a figure dressed in black suddenly ran toward it.
"Stop the car!" someone shouted.
The driver braked sharply. The door opened.
Adrian was already on edge. When he saw the petite figure standing outside, his frown deepened instantly.
"What are you doing here?" he snapped coldly. "Go back."
Mia Green looked up at him, her face pale but determined. "Captain Cross… are you going to find Deputy Captain Elena?"
Adrian turned his face away. "This is an order. Go back."
Mia grabbed the door, refusing to let go. Her eyes turned red. "If it weren't for me, Deputy Captain Elena wouldn't have been scratched. I want to go with you."
From inside the car, Lila Ford sneered. "At least you know you're a burden. Then don't make things worse. Go back and sleep."
Someone else added coldly, "Yeah. Don't make Captain Cross save you again and leave the rest of us cleaning up your mess."
Mia's lips trembled.
The car engine started again.
In a moment of desperation, she hardened her heart, climbed in, and shut the door behind her.
This was the first time anyone had openly disobeyed Adrian.
His eyes flashed with anger as he raised his gun. "What do you think you're doing?"
Mia closed her eyes. Tears streamed down her cheeks. "I want to go. If Captain Cross is really angry… then just shoot me."
The vehicle was already moving.
Adrian cursed under his breath, threw his gun down in frustration, and turned his face away, refusing to look at her again.
Mia and Elena were similar in height. Their builds were close. Even their facial outlines shared a faint resemblance.
As Adrian stared ahead into the darkness, Mia's stubborn, tearful expression triggered a memory he couldn't escape.
Elena, crying alone in the snowstorm.
But Elena was not Mia.
She had never been weak.
For years—except during the very beginning—she had almost never cried in front of him. She seemed gentle, obedient, quiet… but beneath that surface, she was tougher than anyone else.
She didn't cry when her bones broke.
She didn't cry when zombies bit or scratched her.
She didn't cry when they were trapped on Corpse Mountain and barely escaped alive.
But this time…
When he left her behind in the Northern Ice Wastes, she cried.
Why?
Was it because he protected Mia first, causing Elena to get hurt?
Yet the truth was cruel. If Mia had been the one scratched, she would have died. Elena, at least, had a chance to survive.
Adrian stared out at the endless frozen night.
Her trembling voice echoed in his mind.
> "But Adrian Cross… it's not just Mia who gets scared. I get scared too."
"I get scared too…"
How could she be afraid?
She was trained. Skilled. Calm. Strong.
It was just an icy wasteland.
What was there to fear?
And yet, the more he tried to deny it, the deeper the unease sank into his chest. It felt like his heart had been dropped into boiling oil—burning, twisting, unbearable.
In the end, Adrian could only close his eyes, clench his fists, and silently pray.
Pray that Elena Ward was still alive.
Pray that he wasn't already too late.