In front of the Blue House apartment.
Luce hid behind the dark alley wall, carefully controlling his breath to avoid drawing attention. In front of him, the road leading to Blue House Apartments was filled with creatures staggering about.
"Hm... that's the apartment?" Luce looked the building up and down. "But there are so many zombies there." How did he get in so easily before?
His eyes shifted to the spear in his hand, then to a large metal dumpster at the end of the alley. A reckless idea formed. He pulled out an abandoned skateboard whose wheels still worked and wedged it under the dumpster to make it slide more easily.
Luce took a running start. He began pushing the dumpster with all his might.
𝘎𝘙𝘐𝘕𝘋! 𝘋𝘙𝘙𝘙𝘙𝘒 ...!
The harsh sound of wheels hitting uneven asphalt. At first, it felt incredibly heavy; Luce's arm muscles strained violently as he had to build up speed for that mass of iron filled with stacked boxes and trash. However, once the dumpster started rolling downhill, its speed became uncontrollable.
"Move!" Luce hissed.
𝘊𝘙𝘈𝘚𝘏!!
The dumpster plowed into the zombie horde like a one-ton tank. The rigid bodies were flung aside, some even getting run over, producing the sickening sound of breaking bones. A few zombies got stuck at the front of the dumpster, their heads trapped between the iron slats, roaring as black liquid sprayed everywhere.
"Grraaa! Khrrrgh!"
While continuing to push with his shoulder bearing the weight, Luce's right hand moved nimbly. Using Parvez's makeshift spear, he stabbed at the necks and heads of zombies trying to reach him from the sides of the dumpster.
𝘚𝘞𝘐𝘚𝘏! 𝘊𝘙𝘈𝘊𝘒!
"Ugh, there are so many of these creatures!" Luce gritted his teeth, sweat beginning to pour down his forehead. The dumpster's weight increased as more zombie bodies got caught in front, but Luce didn't stop until he reached the apartment's side entrance.
Unbeknownst to Luce, from the fifth floor, a pair of eyes was watching him from behind a slightly opened curtain. Parvez stood there, observing Luce's action with a small smirk on his face.
After successfully escaping the crowd, Luce abandoned the dumpster and ran up the stairs. His breath was ragged by the time he reached the fifth floor. The smell in this hallway was no different from outside—putrid and rancid.
"151... 151..." Luce searched for the door number. "Ah, here it is."
Luce paused for a moment in front of the door. ...I don't know why, but I feel like he'll react weirdly if he knows I actually came, he thought hesitantly. But exhaustion overcame his pride.
𝘒𝘯𝘰𝘤𝘬, 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘤𝘬!
Silence. No answer.
"It's me from earlier. I came to return this junk of yours," Luce said curtly.
A moment of silence, then the sound of a key turning.
𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬.
"Come in," Parvez's voice sounded relaxed from behind the door.
Guess it was just my imagination, Luce muttered inwardly.
Luce stepped inside. The room was dim, lit only by the evening light coming through the window. Luce paused for a moment. Unlike the messy apartment hallway, Parvez's unit was very clean and tidy. It hadn't occurred to him that someone would still have time to mop the floor in the middle of a fungal apocalypse.
"Please, have a seat, and thank you for bringing my stuff back," Parvez greeted, taking his spear affectionately as if it were a family heirloom.
Luce sat on the sofa, his eyes still observing the minimalist but well-organized corners of the room.
"What's wrong?" Parvez asked as he walked toward him carrying a glass of water.
"Ah, nothing—" Luce stopped when he saw the glass. His face turned wary. "That..."
"Oh, this? It's water," Parvez answered with a wide smile.
"I know, but that's not what I meant. Where did you get clean water?"
"I know... I know... you're worried it's contaminated, right? Relax, this is from my stock of large mineral water bottles," Parvez said, placing the glass on the table and pointing to a stack of small gallon containers in the corner of the kitchen.
Luce was still hesitant, but his dry throat left him with few options. He tried to change the subject. "So, this is your home?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah," Parvez answered casually.
"This place... why aren't there any zombies? Where I was, they broke in within hours."
Parvez poured water for himself. "Hm? Well, lucky none came here."
"How is that possible? Even at my place, they were on every floor," Luce asked, increasingly curious.
"No idea... Maybe because at the time, I was sleeping soundly and always kept the door locked tight," Parvez answered casually, shrugging.
"But they can break down doors if they hear sounds," Luce insisted, remembering how the helicopter and his father's building were destroyed.
"Well, how should I know! Go ask the zombies why they don't want to come here. Do you think I'm a zombie?" Parvez retorted irritably while sipping his drink.
"..." Luce just fell silent, feeling defeated in an argument by the strange logic of the man before him.
"Here, drink. I know you must be tired after playing hit-and-run with a trash dumpster earlier, right?"
Luce was startled. "How do you know that?"
Parvez just grinned mysteriously while sipping his water. "I have my ways."
Luce gave him a flat stare, speechless. Meanwhile, Parvez just chuckled quietly while sipping his drink.
Parvez flopped onto the sofa, right next to Luce. The atmosphere suddenly became very awkward. Both men just sat frozen, staring at the dead television screen before them as if there were important broadcasts on.
"Hey," Parvez broke the silence without turning.
"..?" Luce responded curtly.
"What's your name?" Parvez asked, his voice sounding cold and flat.
"...Luce," Luce answered, equally cold.
"That's it?"
Luce paused for a moment before adding, "Luce Raymond."
"Oh..." Parvez nodded slowly. "I'm Parvez. Parvez Artem."
Silence returned. Only the sound of the wall clock and faint growls from the distance filled the room. Parvez suddenly turned, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Luce's clothes—though dirty, they still looked expensive.
"By the way, how did someone like you end up a homeless guy?"
Luce was taken aback. Homeless? His entire life, he had been revered as the crown prince of Raymond Company, and now he was called homeless by this man wearing a thin t-shirt and with messy long hair. He turned his face away. "I... can't tell you."
Parvez stared at Luce with a very sharp, suspicious gaze, making Luce uncomfortable. "Hmm... fine then," Parvez replied, leaning back. "Can you move over a bit? I want to lie down."
Luce immediately stood up, feeling his pride wounded. "Then I'll leave—"
"I said, don't," Parvez interrupted while lying down facing the television, his back to Luce.
"Why? That's up to me. I only came here to return this junk of yours."
Parvez snorted softly. "Hmph, fine then. Go ahead, shoo! Besides, where will you go? There's no safe place right now except my place." How dare he call my weapon junk! Does he think making this was easy!? Parvez grumbled inwardly.
Those words hit Luce right in the gut. He froze. True, he had no destination. His father was gone, the helicopter destroyed, and the streets were hell. Leaving now would be suicide.
With suppressed annoyance, Luce finally gave up. He sat back down, but this time on the floor, leaning against the side of the sofa where Parvez was lying.
Darkness slowly swallowed the room as the sun set. Moonlight filtered through thick clouds, casting only gloomy silver remnants. Luce stared at his trembling palms. He clenched them, then opened them again. Everything felt like a nightmare with no end.
Suddenly, a hand patted his head.
𝘗𝘢𝘵... 𝘗𝘢𝘵...
Luce turned with a look that could kill. Parvez was apparently half-awake, one eye still closed.
"Hey... can you get my phone?" Parvez's voice was hoarse, the kind typical of someone just waking up. He pointed toward the TV table where his phone was connected to a power bank.
Luce let out a long sigh, got up lazily, and walked toward the TV table. As he reached for the phone, his eyes unintentionally glanced out the window. In the darkness of the city, he saw a small point of light blinking rhythmically from a building in the distance. Soon, another light responded from a different direction.
𝘔𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘥𝘦? 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘓𝘶𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵.
He returned and handed the phone to Parvez. "Thanks..." Parvez murmured briefly.
"Hey... do you have a flashlight?" Luce asked, looking at the room's corners growing pitch black.
"No. Wait—hold on, yes! Oh—Ah! That's what I forgot to put in my bag!" Parvez suddenly jumped up from the sofa with unreasonable energy, startling Luce.
Parvez ran to his room while turning on his phone's flashlight. "Luce! Help me!" he shouted from inside.
Luce furrowed his brow, walking lazily toward Parvez's messy room. "Help me look, here," Parvez requested, grinning widely.
"Where do you usually keep it?" Luce asked while opening a desk drawer full of miscellaneous junk.
"How should I remember."
Luce sighed for the umpteenth time. He watched Parvez rummage through the closet in a very inefficient manner. "It's not here... forget it, maybe it's lost," Parvez lamented in despair.
"Have you checked under your mattress?" Luce raised an eyebrow.
"Already did, but it's not there!"
Luce didn't believe him. He knelt on the cold floor, peering under the dusty bed. Sure enough, at the far end, a metal flashlight lay there. He reached it easily.
"Here," Luce handed over the flashlight.
Back in the living room, Parvez turned the flashlight on briefly—making sure it still worked—then turned it off. He started busying himself with his phone, logging into the emergency forum he had mentioned earlier.
"What are you doing?"
"Looking for info."
"Is that from the emergency forum?" Luce approached.
"Yeah, are you on it too?"
"I was before. Now my phone's broken," Luce answered flatly.
"Oh... how sad," Parvez teased with an intentionally exaggerated tone.
Luce snorted in annoyance. However, Parvez suddenly showed him the phone screen. "Hey, look at this."
He pointed to a message:
[𝘈𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘺𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘴: 𝘐'𝘮 𝘈𝘯𝘬𝘰, 𝘐 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘚𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘢 𝘈𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘐 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘥𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘰𝘥.]
And the reply:
[𝘈𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘺𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘴: 𝘐'𝘮 𝘙𝘦𝘺𝘢, 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘯𝘢𝘭. 𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘰 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦.]
Luce fell silent, remembering the flashing lights outside the window earlier. "Why? Do you want to do the same?"
"Huh? No. I don't want strangers coming in here without my permission. This is my house," Parvez answered firmly.
Luce looked at Parvez, and then, for the first time, a thin smile—almost imperceptible—appeared on his lips. "Hmph. You say you don't want anyone else, but actually you really need someone to talk to. You're weird."
"Gah! Uhh..." Parvez was cornered. Luce's argument was true. "But I said... only those I give permission can come in!"
"How do you know who to trust if you won't even meet them?"
"Maybe... instinct? Intuition?"
"Stupid."
Parvez gritted his teeth. "But it's true! The proof is I let you stay here, right?"
Luce was stunned. He hadn't expected Parvez to answer so strongly. "...Whatever you say."
"That's it, I'm going to sleep. You should sleep too. There's another pillow in the room, just take it," Parvez muttered while curling back up on the sofa.
Luce didn't take the pillow. He sat back down on the floor, leaning against the sofa. He reached for his still-full glass of water and drank it slowly. The water felt refreshing in his parched throat. He closed his eyes. The cold night air began to pierce through, yet somehow, in this cramped apartment, he felt much warmer than in his luxurious mansion.