Stepping out of the apartment, Jiwoo's eyes darted toward the elevator at the end of the hall. The doors hung slightly open, revealing nothing but darkness inside. A quick check confirmed what he already suspected—it was long dead.
He sighed. Figures.
The stairs had been his plan from the start, but a tiny part of him had hoped for an easier way down. That hope was gone.
Gripping his makeshift weapon tighter, he descended the stairwell. Each step creaked under his weight, echoing in the empty building. The air grew colder and heavier the deeper he went, carrying the metallic scent of rust and decay.
At last, he reached the ground floor. The back door loomed before him. Beyond it lay the streets—and whatever horrors waited outside.
He swallowed hard, resting a trembling hand on the rusted handle.
"Calm down, Baek Jiwoo… you can do this."
Slowly, he pushed the door open, careful to avoid drawing attention. The hinges groaned faintly, but the street beyond remained quiet.
Jiwoo peeked through the gap. Two zombies shuffled around the corner, their twisted bodies jerking unnaturally with each step. A cold spike of fear shot through him, but he forced his breathing to remain steady.
Instinct took over. In one swift motion, he slipped outside, crouched low, and approached from behind. Two precise strikes—one to the head, one to the neck—dropped them silently before they could even react.
Good… that's two less to worry about.
Keeping low, Jiwoo crept along the empty street, senses on high alert. Every shadow seemed to twitch; every gust of wind sounded like a growl. Monsters roamed just around the corners, their unnatural movements sending shivers down his spine. He stayed off the main roads, careful not to draw attention. The last thing he needed was to run into the protagonist this early—getting caught up in their mess would be suicide.
Ahead, a flicker of hope appeared: a convenience store. Relief surged through him like a lifeline—but it was short-lived. The front doors were locked tight, the glass thick and intact, barring him entry.
"Damn it…" he muttered under his breath, crouching behind a nearby trash bin.
Breaking the glass would be noisy. Too noisy. Every monster in the vicinity would come running. But hunger gnawed at his stomach, sharp and unforgiving. Without food, he wouldn't last long.
Jiwoo scanned the building, eyes narrowing as he searched for weaknesses: a side window, a vent, anything that might offer silent entry. His mind raced, calculating angles and risks. Every second counted. Every wrong move could be his last.
He adjusted his grip on the makeshift weapon, feeling the weight of it in his hands. Cold sweat ran down his back as he imagined the creatures lurking just beyond the alley. Quiet. Swift. Precise. That was how he had to be.
Taking a deep breath, he lowered himself further, ready to make his move. Survival depended on it.
The ruined city waited. Every corner held danger, every shadow could hide death. And Jiwoo knew one thing for certain: he had no choice but to face it all.