My walking dead friend.

The hallways of Hyosan High School were no longer filled with the sounds of slamming locker doors or the idle chatter of students worrying about upcoming exams. Instead, the air was thick with the copper tang of blood and a low, rhythmic thrumming that Cheong-san could hear vibrating through the floorboards. It was the sound of a thousand hearts—some beating frantically, others stilled into a cold, predatory silence.

Cheong-san adjusted the strap of his backpack, his fingers brushing against his own shoulder. Beneath the torn fabric of his uniform, the wound where Gyeong-su had bitten him had long since stopped bleeding. It didn't throb with the heat of an infection; instead, it felt like a cold brand, a permanent mark of their shared fate. He wasn't like the monsters wandering the halls, but he wasn't like the weeping survivors huddled in the science lab either. He was something in between. A shadow with a heartbeat.

Beside him, Gyeong-su shifted. The soft *tinkle* of a small bell echoed against the tiled walls.

Cheong-san reached out, his hand finding Gyeong-su’s cold, clammy palm. He squeezed it gently. Gyeong-su’s head tilted to the side, his bloodshot eyes unfocused, staring at a smear of red on a nearby locker. His jaw moved instinctively beneath the makeshift muzzle Cheong-san had fashioned from a sturdy strip of curtain fabric, tied securely behind his head.

"Stay with me, Gyeong-su. Just keep walking," Cheong-san whispered.

The sound of his voice seemed to ground the boy. Gyeong-su didn't growl. He didn't lunge. He simply let out a wet, rattling sigh through his nose and squeezed Cheong-san’s hand back—a jerky, uncoordinated movement, but a choice nonetheless.

They were currently on the second floor, moving toward the cafeteria. Cheong-san knew he needed to find supplies, but more importantly, he needed to keep moving. If they stayed in one place too long, the 'others'—the full zombies—would eventually crowd them, or worse, the survivors would find them.

A sudden crash from the end of the corridor made Cheong-san freeze. His heightened hearing picked up the frantic scraping of sneakers on linoleum and the heavy, labored breathing of someone in a panic.

"Help! Someone! Please!"

The voice was high-pitched and trembling. Cheong-san recognized it instantly. It was Na-yeon.

Gyeong-su’s posture changed in a heartbeat. His spine snapped straight, his shoulders hunched, and a low, guttural snarl vibrated in his chest. The bell on his wrist jangled frantically as his arm began to twitch, his instinctual drive to hunt overriding the fragile remnants of his humanity.

"No, Gyeong-su. Stop," Cheong-san hissed, stepping in front of him and placing both hands on Gyeong-su’s chest. "Look at me. Gyeong-su, look at me!"

He forced his best friend to meet his gaze. Those red, clouded eyes flickered with a brief spark of recognition, struggling against the viral hunger. Cheong-san felt a pang of agony in his chest. It was Na-yeon’s fault they were like this. She had used that handkerchief, tainted with the blood of the dead, to turn a scratch into a death sentence. Part of Cheong-san wanted to let go. Part of him wanted to let Gyeong-su have his revenge.

But if Gyeong-su killed her, the boy he loved would be gone forever, replaced entirely by the monster.

"She isn't worth it," Cheong-san murmured, leaning his forehead against Gyeong-su’s. "Don't let her take anything else from us."

Gyeong-su’s breathing slowed. The tension left his frame, though his eyes remained fixed on the corner where the screaming was coming from.

Na-yeon stumbled around the corner, her pink cardigan stained with grime and her dark red headband askew. She was pale, her face a mask of pure terror as she fled from a trio of zombies trailing just a few meters behind her. She saw the two figures standing in the middle of the hallway and skidded to a halt, her eyes widening.

"Cheong-san?" she gasped, her voice cracking. "You... you're alive? Help me! They're right behind me!"

She didn't seem to notice Gyeong-su at first, or perhaps she didn't recognize him behind the muzzle and the shadows. She ran toward them, her hands outstretched, desperate for a savior.

Cheong-san didn't move. He stood like a statue, his grip on Gyeong-su’s hand tightening. As Na-yeon got closer, she finally saw the red eyes, the blood-stained face of the boy she had murdered, and the makeshift muzzle. She let out a strangled shriek, falling backward onto the floor.

"You... you're one of them!" she wailed, pointing a trembling finger at Cheong-san. "You both are!"

"I'm exactly what you made us, Na-yeon," Cheong-san said, his voice devoid of emotion. It sounded strange to his own ears—deeper, colder.

The three zombies behind her were closing in. They ignored Cheong-san and Gyeong-su, sensing them as 'kin,' but they were very much interested in the girl screaming on the floor.

"Please! Cheong-san, you were always the hero! Save me!" Na-yeon scrambled toward them on her hands and knees, ignoring the fact that Gyeong-su was now straining against Cheong-san’s hold, the bell on his wrist ringing like a funeral knell.

Cheong-san looked at her—really looked at her. He saw the girl who had looked down on Gyeong-su for his welfare status, the girl who had prioritized her own pride over a human life. Then he looked at Gyeong-su, who was suffering in a living hell because of her.

"I'm not a hero anymore," Cheong-san said quietly.

He reached out and grabbed a heavy fire extinguisher from the wall mount. As the first zombie lunged for Na-yeon’s leg, Cheong-san swung the heavy metal canister. With his new strength, the blow was devastating. The zombie’s head snapped back with a sickening crunch, and it collapsed into a heap.

Na-yeon sobbed with relief, thinking he had changed his mind. "Thank you! Oh god, thank you—"

"Go," Cheong-san interrupted, his voice like ice. "Run toward the music room. The others... On-jo and Su-hyeok... they might be near there. If you see them, don't tell them about us. If you do, I will find you."

He stepped aside, pulling Gyeong-su with him to clear the path. Na-yeon didn't need to be told twice. She scrambled to her feet and bolted down the opposite hallway, her footsteps fading into the distance.

Cheong-san watched her go, then turned his attention to the remaining two zombies. They were confused, tilting their heads at the boy who smelled like them but acted like a predator. One of them snapped its teeth at Gyeong-su.

In a flash of movement Cheong-san barely understood, he was on them. He didn't use the fire extinguisher this time. He used his bare hands, shoving one zombie into the wall with such force the plaster cracked, and kicking the other squarely in the chest, sending it flying back several meters.

It was over in seconds. Silence returned to the hall, save for the heavy breathing of the two boys.

Gyeong-su approached the fallen zombies, his head low, sniffing the air. He looked up at Cheong-san, a low whine escaping his throat. It was a sound of hunger, but also of confusion.

"I know," Cheong-san said, reaching into his backpack. He pulled out a small plastic container he had scavenged earlier from the faculty lounge. Inside were raw scraps of meat he’d taken from the cafeteria’s cold storage before the power had completely failed. It wasn't human, but it was enough to dull the ache in Gyeong-su’s stomach.

He untied the muzzle carefully. Gyeong-su didn't bite him. He waited, his hands trembling, until Cheong-san held out a piece of meat. Gyeong-su ate ravenously, his movements primal and frantic.

Cheong-san sat on the floor, leaning his back against a locker, watching his friend. He felt a dull hunger in his own stomach, a persistent gnawing that made his mouth water as he watched Gyeong-su eat, but he shoved it down. He could still control it. He had to.

"We can't stay in the school forever," Cheong-san mused, speaking more to himself than to Gyeong-su. "The military will come. Or the fire will. We need to find a way out, somewhere quiet. Maybe your house? Or mine? My mom... she’d probably still try to feed you even like this."

At the mention of his mother, a sharp pain lanced through Cheong-san’s heart. He didn't know if his parents were alive. He didn't know if Cheong-san Fried Chicken was still standing or if it was a tomb.

Gyeong-su finished the meat and crawled over to Cheong-san, resting his head on Cheong-san’s lap. It was a hauntingly familiar gesture, one they had shared many times while playing video games or studying. Gyeong-su’s hair was matted with dried blood, but Cheong-san ran his fingers through it anyway, smoothing the dark strands.

"You were always so loud," Cheong-san whispered, a small, sad smile tugging at his lips. "Always cracking jokes, always making Su-hyeok laugh. It’s too quiet now, isn't it?"

Gyeong-su let out a soft sound—not a growl, but a rhythmic clicking in his throat. He closed his eyes, his body relaxing under Cheong-san’s touch.

"I loved you, you know," Cheong-san said, the confession falling easily in the dead hallway. "I think I’ve loved you since we were ten. I was just too scared to say it. I thought we had all the time in the world."

Gyeong-su’s eyes fluttered open. For a fleeting second, the redness seemed to recede, leaving behind the warm, chocolate brown eyes of the boy who used to tease Cheong-san about his height. His hand reached up, fumbling, until his cold fingers brushed against Cheong-san’s dimpled cheek.

"Cheong... san..."

The voice was a rasp, a broken glass sound that barely resembled human speech, but it was there. Gyeong-su had spoken.

Cheong-san’s breath hitched. Tears pricked at his eyes, blurring his vision. "Gyeong-su? Can you hear me?"

Gyeong-su’s hand dropped back down, the effort of speaking seemingly exhausting the small spark of consciousness he had left. He didn't speak again, but he leaned closer, his forehead pressing against Cheong-san’s chest, right over his heart.

*Thump-thump. Thump-thump.*

The sound of the bell on Gyeong-su’s wrist chimed softly as he shifted. To anyone else, it would be a warning of an approaching monster. To Cheong-san, it was the only music left in the world.

They stayed like that for a long time, two broken boys in a broken world. Cheong-san knew that the others—On-jo, Su-hyeok, Nam-ra—were still out there. He could hear them moving on the floor above, the sound of their voices filtered through his supernatural hearing. He heard On-jo’s soft sobs and Su-hyeok’s attempts to comfort her.

He missed them. He missed the safety of the group, the shared hope of rescue. But he looked down at Gyeong-su and knew he couldn't go back. To them, Gyeong-su was a corpse. To them, Cheong-san was a tragedy.

"We’re going to get out of here," Cheong-san promised, his voice regaining its strength. "I don't care about the rescue. I don't care about the camps. We’ll find a place where no one can hurt you again."

He stood up, helping Gyeong-su to his feet. He retied the muzzle, ensuring it was comfortable but secure, and checked the bell on the bracelet. It was a simple thing, a bit of jewelry he’d scavenged from a girl’s locker, but it was their lifeline. As long as he heard that bell, he knew Gyeong-su was still there.

They began to walk again, heading toward the back stairs that led to the construction site. The air was getting colder, the moon climbing higher in the sky, casting long, skeletal shadows across the courtyard.

As they passed the window they had fallen from, Cheong-san paused. He looked down at the grass below, where his life as a human had ended and his life as a protector had begun. He remembered the feeling of the wind, the terror of the fall, and the sharp, agonizing bite that had changed everything.

He didn't regret it.

If he had stayed in that room, he would have watched his friends kill Gyeong-su. He would have lived the rest of his life with the memory of his best friend’s blood on their hands. Now, he had a chance. It was a monstrous, terrifying, lonely chance, but it was his.

"Ready?" he asked.

Gyeong-su tilted his head, the bell ringing once. *Tinkle.*

"Let's go."

Hand in hand, the hybrid and the hound stepped into the darkness of the stairwell. They moved with a grace that no human could match, slipping through the shadows like ghosts. The school was a graveyard, but as long as they were together, they weren't the ones being buried.

Behind them, a door creaked open on the floor above.

"Did you hear that?" a voice whispered—it was Su-hyeok.

"Hear what?" On-jo asked, her voice thick with exhaustion.

"A bell," Su-hyeok replied, his voice filled with a strange, haunting uncertainty. "I thought I heard a bell."

Down in the darkness, Cheong-san smiled, his eyes flashing a faint, predatory gold in the moonlight. He led Gyeong-su away, the sound of the bell fading into the distance, a secret melody shared only by the two of them in the heart of the apocalypse. They were no longer just survivors; they were the new masters of the night, bound by blood, a bite, and a love that not even death could fully claim.