Chapter 48
Click. The door to the pantry shut, leaving Jaeger alone in the living room.
Out of habit, he raised a hand to his brow and slowly rubbed the scar that ran across his eyebrow. Smooth skin met his fingertips.
A moment later, he flinched, realizing what he was doing.
“…Damn it.”
As if reproaching himself, Jaeger squeezed his eyes shut and pulled his hand away from the scar.
Since when did I let my guard down?
Ever since the day he had recalled those memories he had painted pitch-black, he had felt a restlessness he couldn’t even trace the source of.
He had wanted to flee to the capital as soon as possible—but curiosity about what she was hiding had kept him rooted in place.
And every now and then, he would glimpse a young girl in her, which only made him distance himself from her and consciously stay on guard more often.
He had been careful.
He had.
And yet…
Jaeger swallowed a low groan, as if forcing down bitter medicine.
Lately, he hadn’t even felt that restlessness anymore. It was as if he were sinking into a swamp without realizing it.
Closing his eyes, he steadied his heart. When he finally opened them again, his sharp ash-gray gaze settled on the pantry door.
He remained standing there for a long time.
After finishing our assigned tasks for the day, we all went to bed.
Count Lafran was out of his mind, so Zenta and I handled his share of the work.
And then—dawn.
I carefully pushed back the blanket, rose, and left the bedroom.
I went down the stairs from the second floor, passed the male leads sleeping in the living room, and opened the back door—
Only to be blocked by something sitting on the steps.
As the figure fumbled to hide something, I crossed my arms and leaned against the doorframe.
When he stood up and turned toward me, the door creaked open with a long squeal.
“N-noona.”
It was Zenta.
“Does it hurt?”
My gaze dropped to his left arm. His body flinched.
He looked at me with shaken eyes for a moment, then turned his head with a defeated expression, as if realizing he couldn’t hide it.
“How did you know?”
“You’re left-handed.”
“…Ha.”
He laughed hollowly.
“No wonder the apron you threw me that day was clean.”
So he’d realized I’d been checking which hand he used to catch it.
“And when you were cutting. You’re left-handed, but you tried using your right. That’s why you couldn’t do it properly, right?”
“That’s right.”
He admitted it without resistance.
I looked at the way he was clutching his left forearm with his right hand and spoke carefully.
“…Are you hurt?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
My heart gave a small, heavy thud as I asked.
I hoped—desperately—that it wasn’t what I was thinking.
“….”
Zenta shut his mouth and lowered his head.
The hand gripping his left arm trembled faintly.
For a few seconds, I could see him weighing whether to lie or tell the truth.
“It’s safer to tell the truth than to lie. For you—and for your little brother.”
“Is that a threat?”
“It’s advice. Trust is built on truth.”
He lifted his head slightly. The wariness in his eyes wavered.
“What’s so good about you trusting me?”
“I can help you.”
His eyes widened. After a moment, his trembling eyelids lowered. When he opened them again, the light had drained from them, replaced by the shadow of death.
Zenta rolled up his sleeve.
Against his pale skin, a red bite mark stood out clearly.
“…I was bitten.”
His voice was dry and shaking.
“By a zombie.”
I closed my eyes tightly in anguish.
Please… I hoped it wasn’t this.
Zenta.
Age 15.
Another infected individual has appeared, besides the late Mrs. Lafran.
As dawn began to break, I woke everyone and gathered them in the living room.
“…Ha.”
I let out a deep sigh and rubbed my forehead.
I knew I was more agitated than usual, but I couldn’t calm myself.
After pacing in front of the table for a while, I suddenly turned toward Zenta.
“When were you planning to tell us you’d been bitten?”
“….”
“Did you think it would be fine just because you don’t have symptoms yet?”
He only chewed his lip in silence.
Frustrated, I sighed and was about to step closer to him for a deeper conversation—
When a long arm blocked my path.
“Hiding the truth was wrong, but he’s still a child. The more frightened a child is, the more tightly they shut their mouth.”
Jaeger faced me directly, his reproachful gaze sharp.
I exhaled and stepped back.
Right. I’m a little emotional.
The thought that everyone’s lives had nearly been dragged into danger without my knowing had shocked me.
But I’m not being unfairly angry either.
It was true that everyone had been at risk because of Zenta.
Yet Jaeger was glaring at me as if I were persecuting someone innocent.
He probably sees me as narrow-minded because of Redria’s past behavior.
I raised both hands in surrender.
Things between Jaeger and me had only recently begun to mend. I didn’t want to create unnecessary conflict.
“I was a little emotional. Don’t worry. We’ll just talk calmly.”
Only then did Jaeger lower his hand, though his eyes still lingered on me.
Scrape—
I pulled out a chair and sat a slight distance away from Zenta.
“Do you have any symptoms? Fever, vomiting, chills, headaches—anything at all.”
“My body feels a bit heavy. I’m tired.”
That applied to all of us.
Since arriving in the zombie zone, we’d been on edge constantly and working ourselves to the bone just to survive.
I gestured toward his left arm.
“When were you bitten?”
“The day I met you all. Right before, actually.”
Ah—before he ran toward us shouting Yand’s name.
I nodded in understanding. Zenta scratched at his nails and sighed.
“I’m sorry for not telling you.”
“I was angry, but I understand.”
Zenta looked at me in surprise, then glanced at the male leads, who likely shared my expression.
He probably hadn’t intended to hide it forever.
He had been worried about leaving his younger brother alone among desperate circumstances and unfamiliar adults.
That probing look he gave us before must have been him judging whether we were adults with enough character and responsibility to entrust his brother to.
He certainly couldn’t entrust him to Count Lafran.
Suddenly, I felt sorry for him—thinking only of Yand even while facing death.
He’s only fifteen…
At the same time, something puzzled me.
Why are the symptoms delayed?
Is it because he’s young? Or is he some kind of zombie immune person like in the movies?
My temples throbbed, and I pressed them firmly.
Immune or not. The important thing right now is deciding what to do with Zenta.
We couldn’t keep living in the cabin with someone who might turn into a zombie at any moment.
So we sent Zenta upstairs to my bedroom to isolate him with Yand and began a meeting.
I spoke first.
“We need to isolate Zenta in the storage room.”
Jaeger frowned.
“You’re going to lock a person in a storage room like an animal?”
Rooted in chivalry—and already predisposed to dislike me—the duke reacted first with opposition.
Danha nodded in agreement.
“Miss, I also think that’s a bit…”
“Now that we’ve confirmed infection, Zenta has to accept at least that much. Honestly, since he was bitten before showing symptoms, I even considered cutting off his arm…”
That part troubled even me.
Should we wait in case he’s immune? Or should we take no chances and amputate it—for his sake?
As I wrestled with the thought, Jaeger stepped forward and protested.
“We cannot cut off the child’s arm.”
Yes. I expected that from him.
In the original story, Jaeger cut off his own hand because he instinctively sensed danger when he developed a fever and hallucinations.
But now, he wasn’t infected, couldn’t feel the symptoms firsthand, and Zenta was asymptomatic.
To him, it must look like we’d be cutting off a perfectly healthy arm.
