I almost walked into her.
The Bellevue sidewalk was crowded with evening commuters, and I was focused on finding her apartment building, reaching out with my Death Aura to sense through the residential blocks. Then someone stepped out of a coffee shop directly in my path.
Min-Tong Lin.
We collided—not hard, just a brush of shoulders, but enough to make her stumble. Her coffee cup jostled, dark liquid sloshing against the lid.
"Sorry, I wasn't—" She looked up, and her words died.
Recognition. Surprise. And then something harder: the careful blankness of someone who doesn't want to show emotion.
"Wei."
My name in her voice. After ten thousand years.
"Min-Tong." I kept my own voice neutral. "I didn't expect to see you here."
A lie. I had come specifically to find her. But I hadn't expected to find her like this—face to face on a crowded street, close enough to touch, close enough to see the dark circles under her eyes and the tension in her jaw.
"I live here," she said flatly. "You know that."
"Right. Of course."
Silence stretched between us. Around us, the evening crowd flowed past, oblivious to the weight of the moment.
Three days, I thought. In three days, you'll be running for your life. In three days, a horde will chase you to the rooftop of your apartment building.
But you won't die this time. I won't let you.
"How have you been?" I asked.
Her laugh was short and humorless. "Really? That's what you're going with?"
"I don't know what else to say."
"You could try 'I'm sorry for being emotionally unavailable for two years' or 'I'm sorry I prioritized work over you' or maybe—" She cut herself off, shaking her head. "No. You know what? I'm not doing this. Not here."
She started to push past me.
My hand moved before I could stop it, catching her wrist. Gently, but firm enough to stop her.
"Min-Tong. Wait."
She turned back, and I saw something flicker in her eyes. Pain. Hope. Anger. All of it tangled together.
"What?"
The words that came out weren't the ones I planned.
"Something bad is coming. In the next few days. I can't explain how I know, but..." I hesitated, then pushed forward. "Stay home this weekend. Stock up on food and water. If anything strange happens—anything at all—barricade your door and don't let anyone in."
She stared at me like I had lost my mind.
"What are you talking about?"
"Just... trust me. Please." I released her wrist. "I know I don't deserve it. But please."
For a long moment, she just looked at me. Searching my face for something—sincerity, insanity, I couldn't tell.
"You're scaring me," she said finally.
"Good. You should be scared."
More silence. Then:
"I have to go." She stepped back, coffee cup clutched in both hands. "Goodbye, Wei."
She walked away without looking back.
I watched her until she disappeared into the crowd, my heart—which had been still for so long I'd forgotten it could beat—aching with something that might have been hope.
She's still alive.
And now, at least, she had been warned.
------------------------------
Ghost was waiting for me when I got home.
I felt her presence before I even reached my apartment door—that familiar pulse of awareness through our soul bond, eager and alert. When I stepped inside, she was sitting on the back of the couch, tail wrapped around her paws, golden eyes tracking my movements.
Master returns.
The relief in that simple thought was palpable.
"I told you I'd be back," I said, setting down my bag.
Ghost leaped down and wound around my ankles, her purr rumbling through the bond as much as through her chest. I reached down and scratched behind her torn ear. She pressed into my hand, demanding more attention.
It was such a normal thing. Such a mundane moment.
In ten thousand years, I had forgotten what it felt like.
"Good girl," I murmured. "Anyone come by?"
One. Neighbor woman. Knocked three times. Called Master's name. Did not enter. I hid.
The neighbor from 3B, probably. Mrs. Rodriguez, who had been trying to set me up with her daughter for the past six months. In four days, she would be patient zero for this building. The infection would spread from her apartment outward, turning the entire complex into a death trap within hours.
I made a mental note to avoid her.
"You did well," I told Ghost. "Keep watching. If anyone tries to break in, hide first. Your safety matters more than the apartment."
Understood, Master.
I moved to the window and looked out at the city. The evening rush was in full swing—rivers of headlights flowing through the streets, people hurrying home from work, restaurants filling up with diners who had no idea how few meals they had left.
Five days.
One hundred and twenty hours.
Seven thousand two hundred minutes until the world ended.
And I still had so much to prepare.
------------------------------
I made a simple dinner—instant noodles with an egg cracked into the boiling water. Ghost watched from the counter, her interest in human food purely academic. She had eaten before I left, catching and killing a mouse that had been living in the walls. The bond let me feel her satisfaction at the hunt.
As I ate, I reviewed my progress.
Resources: Adequate. I had survival gear, tools, basic supplies. Enough to last a few weeks if I rationed carefully.
Location: Pending. Max Yang's compound was perfect, but I wouldn't know if they'd accept my partnership until tomorrow.
Information: Complete. Ten thousand years of memories gave me every advantage. I knew when the outbreak would start, where it would spread, which areas would fall first.
Power: Growing. My Death Aura was already stronger than it had been at my return. Binding Ghost had proven that I could use it actively, not just passively sense the dying.
Allies: None. Not yet.
That last point stuck in my mind.
I had spent millennia alone. Leading armies of the dead across ruined continents. Fighting wars against horrors that made zombies look like children's nightmares. Surviving, always surviving, but never truly living.
I had learned to be self-sufficient. To rely on nothing but my own power and my own will.
But there had been a time, brief and bright, when I hadn't been alone.
Min-Tong Lin.
Her name was a wound that had never healed. And tonight, that wound had reopened.
------------------------------
I finished my noodles and washed the bowl, Ghost watching from the counter with unblinking eyes.
The encounter with Min-Tong kept replaying in my mind. Her face when she saw me. Her anger, justified and bitter. The way she had walked away without looking back.
But at least she knew now. At least I had warned her.
Would she listen? Probably not. Not fully. She thought I had lost my mind—and honestly, from her perspective, that was the reasonable conclusion.
But maybe, when things started going wrong, she would remember. Maybe that warning would buy her a few crucial seconds.
I had to hope it would be enough.
Ghost jumped onto the counter beside me.
Master is troubled.
"Master is thinking."
About the female?
I looked at her sharply. "What female?"
The one on Master's mind. Her scent clings to Master's clothes. Her emotions echo in Master's soul.
Sometimes I forgot how perceptive Ghost had become.
"She's someone I used to know," I said carefully. "Someone I failed to protect."
In the before-time?
"Yes."
Ghost was silent for a moment. Then: This time is different.
"Yes," I agreed. "This time, I won't fail."
------------------------------
I moved to the window and looked out at the city.
In my original timeline, Min-Tong had lasted three days. Three days of chaos and horror, of watching her neighbors turn into monsters, of barricading herself in her apartment and hoping the nightmare would end.
On the evening of Day 3, a horde had breached the building's main entrance. They flooded up the stairwells, breaking down doors, dragging out anyone who had survived the initial outbreak.
Min-Tong had tried to run. Made it to the roof. Been cornered.
I had found her body a month later, when I finally worked up the courage to search Bellevue. She had been so mangled I almost didn't recognize her. The only reason I knew it was her was the jade bracelet she always wore—a gift from her grandmother.
I had buried what was left. Said the prayers I barely remembered from childhood. Cried for the first time in decades.
And then I had continued surviving.
For ten thousand years, I had continued surviving.
And I never forgot her.
The promise I had made on that Bellevue street—the cryptic warning I had forced on her—might not be enough. I needed to do more. I needed to be there when the outbreak began. I needed to pull her out of that death trap before the horde arrived.
But first, I need a base. I need allies. I need to be ready.
My phone buzzed.
A text message from an unknown number.
I stopped and opened it.
"This is Max Yang. We accept your offer. Come to the compound tomorrow evening. We have work to do."
I stared at the message for a long moment, then allowed myself the ghost of a smile.
Progress.
I pocketed the phone and moved away from the window.
Outside, the city continued its normal evening routine. People cooking dinner. Watching TV. Living their lives.
For now.
Four days, twenty-two hours.
The countdown continued.