Almost the instant he heard furniture being dragged downstairs, Louis's body reacted.
There was no panic.
His mind accelerated instead, thoughts racing with icy clarity as he moved.
Hiding under desks or inside cabinets was out of the question. Those were the first places any searcher would check.
His gaze swept the corridor in a split second and locked onto a room diagonally opposite. The doorway stood wide open, the door panel long gone.
There.
Louis acted immediately.
He drew his wand and pointed it at the supplies piled beside him: canned food, bottled water, the backpack, and the all-important suitcase.
"Wingardium Leviosa."
The incantation left his lips in a whisper. His wrist flicked lightly.
In the next instant, the entire pile rose smoothly into the air, lifted by an invisible force and floating in absolute silence.
Like a commander directing obedient troops, Louis guided the hovering supplies swiftly toward the empty room.
He followed close behind. The moment he crossed the threshold, he pulled out the silver invisibility cloak and spread it wide, draping it over himself and everything he carried, sealing them completely.
He crouched in a corner, drawing his limbs in tight to minimize his presence.
From the outside, the room was almost offensively bare.
Broken wooden planks, shattered glass, scattered documents, and a single rusted metal ornament standing alone in the center.
Nothing else.
It was the most dangerous place to hide, and therefore the safest.
Because it looked like nowhere worth searching.
Louis slowed his breathing by force. His heart thudded hard in his chest, and his wand hand was slick with cold sweat as he waited.
Below, the sounds of shifting furniture grew louder.
Heavy footsteps soon climbed the stairs to the second floor.
"There's definitely someone here," a rough voice growled. "Search everything. Don't miss a damn thing."
Louis's heart slammed into his throat.
He heard them burst into the manager's office first, followed by the crash and scrape of frantic rummaging.
"Fuck. Nothing. Just a few empty bottles."
"Waste of time. Next room."
Footsteps approached.
Closer.
Louis held his breath.
A tall, bearded man stepped into the doorway. His dull, restless eyes swept across the room.
Louis felt his pulse spike violently.
The man hesitated, as if considering stepping inside. Then he took in the empty ruin of the space and immediately lost interest.
"Damn it. This one's empty too."
He spat on the floor and turned away. "There's a rat in this building. I swear I saw a kid's shadow flicker past a window earlier."
"Relax," another voice scoffed. "He probably ran off ages ago."
"If I catch him," the bearded man snarled, "I'll chop off his hands and see where he hides his loot."
Their voices and footsteps gradually faded as they moved away.
Louis did not move.
He remained perfectly still beneath the cloak.
Only after the sounds of furniture being dragged downstairs resumed, followed by the roar of an engine starting outside, and finally complete silence, did he allow himself to confirm that they were gone.
Even then, he waited another ten full minutes.
Only then did several steel needles, previously hovering in midair, drop weakly to the floor with a faint clatter.
During those brief seconds when the men passed the doorway, Louis had already prepared for the worst.
If even one of them had stepped inside, if the cloak had been compromised, he would have driven those needles forward instantly, guided by the Levitation Charm, straight into throats and eyes.
No hesitation.
He did not want to kill indiscriminately.
But in a world where human life was worth less than a dog's, when it came to survival and death, Louis knew he would not hesitate for even a second.
Only after he confirmed the danger had truly passed did the tightly coiled killing intent in his body slowly fade, replaced by a crushing wave of exhaustion brought on by narrowly escaping disaster.
He finally dared to take deep breaths.
Only then did he realize that his back was completely soaked through with cold sweat.
Louis reorganized his supplies, but the sense of peace he had felt before was gone.
This encounter was a brutal wake-up call.
Even with magic and the invisibility cloak, operating alone for extended periods was still far too dangerous.
The threat did not come only from Walkers.
Louis could not remain alert twenty-four hours a day. If that group had entered while he was deeply asleep, he might not even have had the chance to wake before his throat was cut.
His stamina was also limited.
He could not simultaneously guard, scavenge for supplies, and practice magic without rest. Pushing himself like that would inevitably lead to exhaustion, and once his condition declined, a fatal mistake could happen at any moment.
Most importantly, he lacked information.
He was effectively blind and deaf.
He had no idea whether other survivor groups existed nearby, whether they were friendly or hostile, or whether the military or government had established any real safe zones.
What if the military decided to level the city? What if some faction chose to burn entire districts to flush people out?
Relying solely on his knowledge of the original plot was not enough to accurately judge the present situation.
Solo survival sounded impressive, but the risks were far greater than he had anticipated.
It seemed unavoidable.
He needed to find a group.
A reliable and trustworthy group, preferably one whose future he understood.
In Louis's mind, the image of Shane surfaced, the man who had spent half a day searching for him before finally leaving.
Following the main storyline might be the safest option for now.
Of course, Louis had considered other possibilities.
As someone who had watched the entire series, he knew there were several massive forces in this world that far surpassed ordinary survivor groups.
The mysterious CRM with helicopters?
Impossible. They were secretive, ruthless, and their base was completely unknown at this stage.
The Commonwealth?
Equally unrealistic. Though powerful, it would not appear for years and offered no immediate help.
Woodbury under the Governor was a polished tyranny rotting from within. Negan's Saviors were outright bandits. Joining either would be courting disaster.
As for unfamiliar groups not shown in the original story, the danger was even greater. The intruders earlier were proof enough.
After ruling out every other option, one answer stood clearly.
Rick's group.
Though plagued by conflict and hardship, and far from perfect, their moral baseline was among the highest in the early days of the apocalypse.
For a child who needed to hide his true abilities, gain protection, and secure a relatively stable environment to grow stronger, there was no better choice than a group whose core members he understood and whose fate was guided by a powerful protagonist aura.
And most importantly, he had already left a strong impression on one of them.
Shane.