Chapter 50
Behind the cabin, in the storage shed.
After thoroughly cleaning the small five-pyeong space, I arranged it so someone could live there comfortably. I stacked up books Zenta might like to read and prepared a personal cup and a simple cot. There was even a window that let sunlight in, so it wouldn’t feel too suffocating.
I was finishing up by straightening the blankets when—
“Big sister.”
Zenta, who had been sitting in a chair blankly watching me, spoke first.
I turned toward him.
After wandering across the floor for a long while, his dry eyes finally lifted to meet mine.
“I’m going to die, right?”
“……”
“The symptoms are just delayed. I’ll turn into a zombie eventually, won’t I?”
“You might live. You were infected, but you don’t have any symptoms yet.”
“Ha.”
Gripping the edge of the chair with both hands, Zenta bent forward and let out a weak laugh.
“……I didn’t expect you to say something comforting. I thought you’d coldly tell me only the facts.”
“I meant it.”
I truly did.
What if Zenta turned out to be immune? What if he was an exception?
He let out a hollow laugh.
“……Don’t give me hopeful words. Tell me the reality. We told you all our secrets, didn’t we?”
Right. Come to think of it, their secrets had all been revealed.
Except one.
“There’s still one thing left.”
Zenta slowly lifted his head, as if asking what I meant.
“Is it true you woke up in the Holy Forest a week later?”
“I can’t believe it myself, but it’s true. I only know a week passed because you told me.”
His eyes weren’t the eyes of a liar. They were steady and unwavering.
What on earth is it?
There were no clues. The more I thought about it, the more my head hurt.
At some point the room fell quiet. When I came back to my senses, he was slumped over.
Seeing his lowered head filled me with complicated emotions—frustration, discomfort, an unpleasant tightness in my chest.
I finally spoke.
“I told you before—trust is built on truth. You told me everything truthfully, so I’ll tell you something too.”
Zenta, who had been lost in thought, lifted his head and looked at me blankly. I took a breath.
“You really can live.”
If the Saintess arrives before he completely turns into a zombie.
Maybe even after he turns, he could still be restored—assuming the body hasn’t decayed too far.
Giving groundless hope is cruel. But if there’s a real possibility, isn’t it better to nurture it?
Especially for a boy standing on the brink of death.
“So you need to keep yourself together. At least for your little brother.”
He didn’t look surprised. His dark eyes shone strangely in the dim light.
I watched him for a moment before returning to fixing the bed.
Creak—
He stood from his chair and came closer. He picked up one of the books stacked on the bedside table.
“New books are always nice. But relationships are better when they’re old.”
For a second, I didn’t understand.
“You’re saying you don’t trust me.”
You’re taking my words about living as nothing more than comfort.
Zenta gave a faint smile and buried his face in the book.
“……Actually, after Lady Lafran became like that, I saw her in the forest by chance. She’d turned into something like a zombie… I’ll end up like that too, won’t I?”
Because he’d seen it with his own eyes, he couldn’t believe me.
“Your comfort sounds nice, but that’s all it is. High-ranking nobles change their words to suit themselves. They throw people away and pick them up again when it’s convenient.”
Maybe because he was facing death, Zenta spoke frankly, revealing his values without hesitation.
So that’s where the hostility at our first meeting came from.
His personal resentment toward high nobles probably stemmed from his father.
Zenta slowly lifted his head.
“But I know you’re not the type to abandon us.”
“What makes you think that?”
He gave me a small smile.
“The warp scroll.”
“……I guess Lord Lafran’s loud voice carried upstairs.”
“That foolish man still doesn’t seem to realize it, but even though you have a warp scroll, you’re staying here because you’re considering us as priority evacuees. Right?”
“…You’re quite sharp.”
“You could leave with those people. But you don’t abandon us because you prioritize the weak.”
He was perceptive and good at deduction. But perhaps because he was still young, he saw people a bit too optimistically.
“Not necessarily. Maybe I’m just enjoying the power I gained from the warp scroll.”
“You?”
Zenta widened his eyes—then burst out laughing as if that actually made sense.
He flopped onto the bed and laughed for quite a while before glancing at me sideways.
“You smashed that table pretty scary earlier.”
Ah. He saw that.
Heat crept into my ears.
So he’d realized the male leads weren’t people who could be controlled with a warp scroll—and that I’d resorted to brute force because I couldn’t control them.
Ahem.
Avoiding his gaze, I moved to tidy the lower part of the bed.
His lukewarm gaze followed me.
After watching me for a while, Zenta lay flat on his back, staring at the ceiling.
“……Big sister.”
“Mm?”
“If I turn into a monster… will you kill me?”
My hands froze on the blanket.
I looked at him. He slowly tightened his grip on the fabric with both hands.
“……Do you want Yand to resent me?”
“He can be stubborn, but in the end he’ll accept reality. He’ll understand you.”
“So you want me to take responsibility for your brother out of guilt.”
Zenta lowered his eyes apologetically and gave a bitter smile.
“You’re a good person. But I need insurance. Please include Yand among the warp scroll evacuees. Just get him safely out of here.”
I tapped the edge of the bed lightly, then straightened up.
“……I don’t think I can promise that. Because you can live.”
“……There you go again.”
“When negative thoughts keep coming, try changing your perspective. Sometimes the world looks different when you do.”
In other words—don’t think about dying. Think about living.
Zenta turned over onto his side.
“Do you overcome despair like that too?”
I opened and closed my mouth before barely answering.
“I don’t know. I haven’t overcome mine yet.”
Otherwise, why would I still be reminded of my past life every time I see the male leads?
After that irresponsible answer, I walked toward the door.
Just as I opened it slightly—
“Big sister.”
His voice trembled.
“……Yes.”
“……I’m actually scared.”
“I know.”
Why is God so cruel?
Why make such a small back tremble like that?
“……But I meant it when I asked you to kill me. I don’t want Yand to see me after I turn into a monster.”
With a troubled heart, I pretended not to hear his final whispered words and left the shed.
The next morning.
After breakfast, I called Danha and the Crown Prince into the forest.
It was to learn the preservation method.
And through that, I discovered something new about the Crown Prince.
He’s a genius when it comes to using his body.
But he has no talent for teaching.
“I showed you like this and you still don’t get it?”
The Crown Prince looked utterly baffled that Danha couldn’t follow him. Danha looked equally troubled.
“Could you please show me one more time?”
“Fine,” the Crown Prince muttered, lifting his spear with a serious expression.
“Watch carefully.”
His thin eyelids lowered, hiding his golden eyes.
“Think about what you want.”
“……”
“And then—”
Tak!
Opening his eyes, he snapped his fingers. A sharp, awl-like aura metal manifested at the tip of the spear.
“There. Now you can do it, right?”
“……”
From afar, Danha shook his head at me helplessly. I pressed my forehead at his silent plea for help.
They had been stuck like this for a while.
The Crown Prince kept saying things like “Crack!” “Bang!” “Pop!”—telling him to just feel it—while Danha struggled because he couldn’t understand what a genius meant by “feel.”
No choice. I’ll have to step in.
I could teach Jaeger the aura preservation method and then have him pass it on…
But Danha and Jaeger don’t seem to get along, and ever since Jaeger laughed last time, he’s seemed oddly on edge.
Teaching him a new ability now would be like telling him he has to stay longer in the zombie zone.
It looks like I’ll have to take over Danha’s training myself—and postpone searching for the urn for a few days.
