Chapter 1 — The Day Everything Stopped
The alarm rang.
Tokita Ayuto's hand shot out, slapping it silent before his eyes fully opened. He lay for a moment, staring at the ceiling. Then he sat up slowly and yawned.
Morning.
Most people called him Ayuto. A few—mostly online—called him Red, a dumb nickname that stuck because of his hair. He never used it himself. Somehow, it followed him anyway.
He showered, dressed, and moved through his apartment with quiet efficiency. Everything was normal. Routine. Predictable. Controlled.
His phone buzzed.
₩800,001 transferred.
Ayuto blinked, then smiled.
His parents. Always looking out for him.
He imagined the day ahead—new clothes, maybe a console upgrade, a trip to the mall. Then—
BOOM.
The building trembled.
Ayuto froze. Another explosion followed, closer this time. Sirens screamed in the distance, mingled with frantic shouts.
He walked cautiously to the balcony and slid the door open.
The city was breaking.
People ran in every direction. Police cars screeched past, lights flashing. Officers shouted orders, then gunfire rang out.
A teenager collapsed to the ground. Not tackled. Shot.
And then—worse.
A man lunged at another, teeth sinking into flesh. Screams erupted. Others joined in—biting, clawing, attacking.
Ayuto's breath caught.
"…What the hell?"
One of them paused, head tilting unnaturally. Its eyes locked onto him. For a heartbeat, they stared at each other.
Ayuto stepped back, closing the curtain.
The balcony door slid shut. Silence fell.
His heart remained steady. His hands didn't shake. But his mind raced.
"Is this… a zombie outbreak?" he muttered. "No… that doesn't make sense."
The TV flickered on.
"—all civilians are advised to remain indoors. Reports of violent behavior and biting incidents have been confirmed. Avoid contact with infected individuals. A bite may result in—"
The broadcast cut briefly, then resumed.
Ayuto's phone buzzed again.
Mom: Stay inside.
Dad: Lock the doors. Stock food and water for at least two weeks.
Mom: Power may be cut. Do not go outside.
Dad: Don't draw attention.
They knew more than they were saying.
Before he could reply, the signal dropped. No calls. No messages. Nothing.
"…Figures," he muttered, typing anyway.
Ayuto: I understand.
The first day passed in uneasy quiet.
The second day was louder.
From his window, Ayuto watched armored vehicles roll through the streets. Soldiers escorted civilians, firing when infected approached. Every gunshot drew more attention, pulling additional infected from surrounding blocks.
"They're panicking," he murmured. "That'll only make it worse."
A scream cut through the air.
A woman tripped near an overturned car. Infected surged toward her. A soldier shouted—but he was too far.
Ayuto moved.
Quickly. Carefully. Invisible.
A chunk of concrete tore free from a damaged building, flying with a violent arc. It slammed into the nearest infected, taking several down. The rest scattered.
The woman froze, staring.
Soldiers shouted in confusion.
"What was that?!"
"From the building!"
Across the street, a figure stood briefly on a rooftop.
Red hair. Face masked.
Then vanished.
A soldier whispered, "Was that a kid?"
"Focus on the evacuation!" the commanding officer barked. "We'll deal with him later!"
Ayuto was already gone. Back inside. Doors locked. Windows sealed.
Night fell. The city dimmed. Streetlights flickered.
Then—darkness.
The power went out.
Ayuto sat on his bed, phone dead, apartment silent. Outside, the world burned quietly.
And Tokita Ayuto waited.