Looking into the emerald eyes staring at him, Jon Whyte couldn't help but space out again.
The girl's face, soft and elegant, framed by creamy, shoulder-length hair, almost felt unreal in the dim light of the room. She was the kind of beautiful that made the world pause for a second. Despite the baggy dress she wore—clearly borrowed or makeshift—the soft outline of her figure still hinted at curves and strength beneath. Her beauty didn't come from glamour or pretense, but something far more natural.
Quiet and deeply unsettling in its authenticity.
Jon blinked a few times as he came to, shaking the fog in his mind. Who else could it be, if not Cynthia?
And yet… he was certain he had never seen her before the fall. She could have easily become the school's most talked-about girl, and yet no one he knew ever mentioned her. That thought alone made him suspicious.
"You're awake," she said, her voice soft, but sure. It was a tone that pulled him back to the moment more effectively than a slap.
Ignoring her words for a second, Jon squinted. "Who are you?"
She blinked. "Huh? Haven't I told you? My name is Cynthia."
"No, not that," Jon said, rubbing his temple. "I mean… why haven't I heard of you before?" He'd been here for two years and a face like hers definitely wouldn't go unnoticed.
She tilted her head slightly, the corner of her lips lifting in a teasing smile. "And what exactly did you want to know about me, Jon?"
Jon opened his mouth but paused. The look in her eyes made it difficult to form a coherent thought. She wasn't mocking him, but she was clearly enjoying his confusion. He looked away, not out of embarrassment, but to steady himself. His gaze drifted around the room.
His heart skipped.
They were no longer in the female dormitory, as he had assumed.
Below the table where he lay were folded mats, likely stacked to form a makeshift bed. Dim lights hung from a power strip attached to the ceiling, flickering slightly, powered perhaps by a backup generator. The faint scent of burnt firewood and disinfectant clung to the air.
'Cafeteria,' he realized. Not just any part of it, either. They were tucked into what used to be a staff glass office sectioned off from the rest of the hall.
Beyond the translucent sliding door, he could make out clusters of students and even some staff milling around.
He turned back to Cynthia.
"Can you tell me what happened?" he asked, his voice quieter now.
She nodded, but not before giving him a once-over, as if checking if he could handle the truth.
"First off," she began, "you lost a lot of blood." Her brows furrowed. "You'd been asleep for a day."
Jon's eyes widened. "A day?" His voice cracked slightly, disbelief hitting him hard. Two days since the world had fallen, and he had just missed half of it, half of the crucial time to react, to move, to adapt.
He lowered his head, his fingers curling into the fabric of the mattress. He'd missed valuable time.
Sensing the shift in his mood, Cynthia offered, "The fruit. The one that tree dropped… we used it on you."
"You fed it to me?" Jon asked, puzzled.
Cynthia nodded. "Yeah. Jenny tested a small portion first and her injuries disappeared completely. So, we took one and got a skill, so we gave you."
Jon nodded slowly.
He remembered the moment before everything had gone black—the final burst of moonlight, the roar of the mutated tree, the stench of sap and blood.
"I see," he muttered.
She took a breath, bracing herself. "After that, we couldn't stay in the dorms. Jenny, some security team members, and I moved you here. On the way, we ran into a group of zombies. We cleared them, but…"
Jon saw her hesitate.
"But?"
Her eyes dropped. "A lot of girls ran away when they saw the bodies. Many had only seen pictures and movies before this, and they couldn't handle it in real life. We started out with over four hundred girls. Now, we have barely a hundred."
Jon's jaw tightened. It wasn't surprising. In fact, it was human. The only reason he hadn't cracked yet was because of passive skill. They all helped him push forward where others crumbled.
"What happened after you got here?"
Cynthia exhaled and sat on the edge of a chair beside him. "A lot of people had the same idea, apparently. This place with food stores and open space was ideal. Once here, we began setting up and found out we had enough food and supplies, in fact, more than enough. We also discovered the clinic underground. We were able to reach it to bring what we needed."
"So, the immediate needs were handled?"
"Yes," she said. Then her eyes darkened. "But that became the problem."
Jon frowned.
"The moment things calmed down… the emotions started rising. The fear, grief, the questions. As if that wasn't enough, a storm hit the campus with heavy rain, lightning. We were trapped inside. That's when it sank in. People started to panic."
Cynthia looked at him, her voice bitter. "They started blaming us. Jenny and me. They said we looked too calm asked if we were behind all this. As if we had answers."
"And then?"
"A group calling themselves 'Krad' appeared. They said people with skills should lead, that they were superior."
Jon's heart sank. "That Krad?" They were known throughout the school, and he often found his roommate, Joe speaking with them.
She nodded. "They demanded for more food but we refused. No one knows how long the storm would continue for, we couldn't just give them. I think they are planning something."
She paused, then added, "We lost people. Some committed suicide, some tried to kill the professors, one tried to set fire to the kitchen..." And she listed various deeds people wanted to commit.
"All this… in just one day." Jon closed his eyes. The world had gone to hell, and people were following it right down the drain.
"Right now, it's stable. But it's not peace. It's fear."
Jon nodded, deeply grateful for everything she and Jenny had done.
"I know you've been looking after me," he said. "Thanks."
She smiled faintly.
"Oh, and—" Jon pulled something from the bag on his side, still damp with dried blood. A shimmering piece of clothing—a translucent, otherworldly dress—"Do you want this?"
Cynthia's eyes widened. "Is that…?"
It was the lilith dress. He needed a swap for it.
"Yes, do you have anything I could swap with," he said.
"Not right now." Her answer slurred as she reached to collect it.
"But you owe me."
She laughed. A real one. It was the first time he had seen her face light up in a way.
After dressing up and tightening his boots, Jon stepped out into the cafeteria.
The sheer scale of the place still struck him.
Designed to feed thousands, it now held only a fraction of that. The space echoed with low murmurs and scraping trays. The air smelled of canned beans, sanitizer, and fear.
The next thing was to find his roommates. The sheer number wouldn't allow him, but his Moon gaze could help him.
He activated Moon Gaze and scanned around for the features of his friend, Alex.
His pupils glowed faint blue. The air shimmered slightly as the moonlight within him responded to his intent. He scanned the room, ignoring the startled whispers around him.
Soon, he saw someone.
Light skin. Curly hair.
It had to be Alex.
He moved quickly.
"Hey! Do you know where you're going?!"
"Wait—don't go over there!"
Muffled voices were directed at him, but he moved ignoring them all. Two students stepped in front of him, trying to stop him.
Jon's eyes flared again, freezing them in place with the barest use of energy and walked past.
But what he found wasn't what he hoped.
Sitting on the floor was not Alex, but Alexa—his twin sister.
Her head was bowed, arms wrapped around her legs. Her clothes were torn. Her body continuously trembling.
Jon knelt slowly and tapped her shoulder.
She jumped, gasped—and then looked up.
"J-Jon?" she whispered in shock. It was like seeing someone that wasn't meant to be alive.
Her next words were hard as she broke into tears in between. "Alex… Alex is dead."