"Hmm."
Liam muttered to himself, testing a theory.
"Things in my mouth stay when I'm transported into the game, but stuff in my pockets doesn't."
A simple deduction, but useful. Before his nighttime stroll through the city, he'd run a small experiment—items in his mouth vs. in his pockets. The results were clear: only one method worked.
"Liam?" Caitlyn approached him. "Where are we?"
Liam slowly rose, his back aching.
"You picked the zombie apocalypse in the city."
Caitlyn stared at him, slack-jawed.
"What?"
"WHAT?!"
Lydia's voice cracked through the air. She grabbed Liam by the collar and slammed him against a nearby pillar.
"This is your doing??"
"I didn't say that—"
"You did!"
"Lydia, calm down!" Caitlyn urged.
"What? This guy kidnaps us and you want me to calmdown?"
"Look around." Liam suggested calmly. "We're not the only ones here. You really think I kidnapped all these people?"
Lydia paused. She didn't like being wrong—and she didn't like losing ground—but she had no comeback.
"Then why are we here?! Tell me right now!"
She shoved him again. His back hit concrete with a dull thud.
"Stop! Lydia! Let him talk!"
"Yes, let me explain."
"Then do it!"
"This isn't my doing," Liam said. "It's something else. Someone else—something powerful. If you answer one of its 'Would You Rather' questions… whichever option you choose becomes reality."
Lydia scoffed. "Ha. Very funny. Now tell us the truth."
"I just did."
Lydia turned to Caitlyn for backup—but Caitlyn was staring at Liam with blind trust and worry. Lydia sighed heavily.
"Didn't we choose, like... zombies and shit?"
"We did."
"Then where are the zombies?"
"I don't know," Liam said. "But they're probably on their way. Look around, Lydia. Everyone here is terrified."
She did.
The tension in the air was unmistakable. Fear, confusion, quiet panic. Some people huddled in corners. Others clustered around a tall man being hailed like a savior.
It really did feel like the end of the world.
"Then why'd you ask us that question?" Lydia demanded.
"It wasn't me asking—it was the game. I would've died if I didn't ask."
A lie, smooth and emotionless.
"Then die! Damn it!"
"Lydia!" Caitlyn stepped between them, pulling them apart.
"I'm gonna find a weapon," Liam said calmly, turning toward the reception desk. "Brandon's here—the guy they're crowding around. We'll be safe with him. He's a good leader."
"I still don't fully believe you," Lydia muttered. "I'm asking around."
"Wait—!" Caitlyn called after her, but Lydia had already walked away.
"Hello, may I ask—"
Lydia started to speak to a man standing nearby, but stopped the moment he turned to face her. His expression was a mixture of fear and madness—haunted eyes, pale skin, lips twitching.
"Uh... haha, sorry. I just wanted to ask... where are we?"
"Where are we?" he repeated, almost bitterly.
"Yeah. Um. Where are we?"
"You're new, huh?"
He suddenly grabbed both her arms and yanked her closer.
"Hey! Back off!"
Lydia struggled against him.
"You're in hell, lady... You're on death row..."
"Let go of me!"
"What a pity..." His voice dropped, sorrowful. "How old are you?"
"Huh?"
His grip loosened slightly. He wasn't threatening her—he was grieving.
"Nineteen," she said, guarded.
"Oh god..." He let go and collapsed to his knees, head bowed. "It forgives no one... no one. I'm so sorry, young lady..."
Tears streamed down his face.
Shaken, Lydia backed away and returned to Caitlyn and Liam, who were digging through the reception desk.
"Okay, fine," Lydia muttered. "It seems like what you said is legit."
"I found this!"
Caitlyn held up a pair of scissors, beaming.
"Short-range weapons won't help much," Liam replied. "We don't stand a chance in melee combat against dozens of zombies. We need something longer."
"Oh... but I could throw it, right? Use it as a projectile?"
"Sure," he said flatly.
"Don't ignore me," Lydia said, arms crossed. "Caitlyn, you really believe all this zombie stuff already? I haven't seen a single one yet. Until I do, I won't believe it fully. I mean, zombies? Seriously? Ghosts, maybe. But zombies are movie stuff."
Liam didn't respond. He was already walking into the back room behind the desk.
"Oh. Okay!" Caitlyn chirped, following his lead.
Lydia shot Caitlyn a look—palms turned up, expression incredulous. "What the hell, girl?"
Then she sighed and followed.
"Liam Dye!" she barked. "You said you didn't ask us to join the game. The game asked us."
Liam said nothing, rummaging through drawers.
"Otherwise you'd die, right? There's two of us and one of you. Honestly? Might've been better if you died."
"Maybe," Liam said without looking up. Finding nothing useful, he walked past her.
"So you're just a coward, huh? You didn't want to die. That's it. What an asshole."
But Liam had stopped—dead still. His eyes locked onto something across the hall, near the sliding glass doors.
"Liam?" Caitlyn called softly.
She followed his gaze.
Near the glass doors stood the same tall man from earlier—Brandon—surrounded by admirers. He was speaking to a young woman and a middle-aged man.
"What's wrong?"
Before Caitlyn could turn her head fully, Liam dropped beside her, crouching on the floor behind the desk.
He was breathing hard, body locked in tension, eyes wide with panic. Sweat poured down his face.
"Liam! Are you okay?"
"What's he doing now?"
"It's..." Liam's voice was barely audible.
"What is it?" Caitlyn knelt beside him, gently touching his shoulder.
"It's…"
It's her.