The stairwell reeked of damp concrete, rust, and something far worse.
They were breathing too loudly.
All three of them.
Short, uneven breaths that echoed faintly in the narrow space, bouncing off cracked walls and broken steps. Outside, beyond the shattered glass panels near the landing, distant voices drifted through the night—shouting, screaming, something collapsing, something chasing something else.
The tall Guy, a soldier by profession froze mid-step.
"Back. Back—quick."
His voice dropped to a sharp whisper.
He pushed the other two behind him without hesitation, positioning himself between them and the stairwell opening. The rifle came up instantly, steady despite the tension in his shoulders, muzzle angled toward the source of the noise.
"Quiet."
They pressed themselves into the corner.
The girl clutched her school bag tightly to her chest, her knuckles pale. The delivery guy stood close beside her, trying to control his breathing, trying not to make a sound.
Outside, something ran past.
Footsteps—fast, erratic.
Then another set, heavier.
Then—
A scream.
Cut short.
The Soldier Guy didn't move. His finger rested just outside the trigger guard, ready, waiting, listening.
Seconds stretched.
Then the noise faded. Further away. Distant.
Gone.
Only then did he slowly lower the rifle a fraction, exhaling through his nose.
"…Damn those infected."
The delivery guy swallowed, then let out a shaky breath.
"You mean zombies, right?"
The Soldier Guy shook his head slightly.
"Infected," he said quietly. "That's what I'm calling them."
He glanced toward the broken window again, then back down the stairwell.
"…They're not like anything I've seen before. Not on TV. Not anywhere."
The delivery guy frowned.
"…What do you mean?"
He hesitated, then added,
"And how the hell do you even have that rifle, man? You're dressed like a normal guy."
The Soldier Guy shifted slightly. Civilian clothes, dust-stained and damp. A cap pulled low over his head. The rifle didn't match the rest of him—too clean, too real.
He exhaled slowly.
"…Was supposed to deploy with my unit," he said. "Didn't get the chance."
The delivery guy leaned in a little.
"What happened?"
The Soldier Guy's gaze hardened.
"…Something hit the base."
He paused, searching for the words.
"…A monster."
Silence.
"It came through the perimeter wall like it wasn't even there. Just broke straight in."
His grip tightened on the rifle.
"No warning. No time to organize. It was chaos from the start."
The girl's voice came out small.
"…What kind of monster?"
He shook his head.
"…Small, kind of like that dwarf Peter Dinklage, from that American TV show where the winter is coming. But he was dense. Like muscle's stacked upon muscles, a look like, well everything in it was just packed wrong."
He swallowed once.
"It broke into the barracks and tore people apart before they could even grab their weapons."
The delivery guy's expression shifted, unease creeping in.
"…That's insane."
"Yeah, but that's not the worst part."
The Soldier Guy's voice dropped lower.
"It was what happened after the creature tore past us, that truly terrified me."
They both looked at him.
"Some of the guys didn't die right away," he continued. "Scratches. Blood splashed on them while we were firing. Some got it in their eyes, their mouths—"
He stopped for a second.
"…At first they were fine, but then they collapsed, and what followed was violent seizures. We couldn't even hold them down. And then, just ten seconds later, they got back up… And they weren't human anymore. They just went straight for us, without any hesitation. No recognition. Just… attack."
The delivery guy rubbed the back of his neck, forcing out a weak laugh.
"…Yeah, okay. That's… that's way worse than regular zombies."
The Soldier Guy didn't respond.
Instead, he shifted his stance slightly, scanning again.
Behind him, the delivery guy cleared his throat.
"…Hey, uh… we never actually did introductions."
The Soldier Guy glanced at him.
"…Now?"
"Yeah, now," the delivery guy said quickly, forcing a bit of energy into his voice. "Feels like we should know who we're dying with, you know?"
A faint exhale escaped the Soldier Guy—almost a laugh, but not quite.
"…Fine."
He adjusted his grip on the rifle.
"Name's… Chen."
The delivery guy brightened slightly.
"Hey, same surname. Nice."
He tapped his chest lightly.
"Chen Yu-hao. Delivery rider. Trying to save up for college."
He gave a crooked grin.
"…And yeah, I guess I saved her too. Pretty heroic, right?"
He nodded toward the girl.
The Soldier Guy gave him a flat look.
"…Sure."
"Hey, come on, that counts," Yu-hao muttered, then glanced at the girl. "Oh—wait, I never asked your name."
The girl hesitated for a moment, then spoke softly.
"…Lin Mei."
She shifted her bag slightly.
"Second-year high school."
Yu-hao nodded.
"Nice. See? Team's complete."
The Soldier Guy exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction as the outside noise continued to fade.
"…Alright."
He lifted the rifle slightly again, more out of habit than urgency.
"We should move."
"Move where?" Mei asked quietly.
"Up," he said. "As high as possible."
He glanced toward the upper floors.
"If anyone's coming to get people out, they'll be looking from above. Helicopters, maybe."
He shook his head slightly.
"…Not that I'd bet on it."
Yu-hao frowned.
"What about going back down?"
The Soldier Guy didn't even consider it.
"Too dangerous."
He gestured vaguely downward.
"Those things are already spreading. And the water—"
He paused briefly.
"…If it's contaminated, lower levels are worse."
Yu-hao nodded slowly.
"…Yeah. It's good we got in here just before the flooding started, right?"
"Yeah," Mei added quietly. "The streets were already filling up…"
The Soldier Guy gave a short nod.
"…Then we stay up."
He took a step toward the stairs, but froze as he heard something. Slowly, he raised the rifle again.
"…Wait, I hear something."
His voice dropped instantly.
Both Yu-hao and Mei went silent.
The Soldier Guy tilted his head slightly, listening.
There, from the hallway of the broken apartment door, he heard a sound of wet rhythmic munching.
His eyes narrowed and the rifle lifted, aimed directly at the dark opening.
Unknown to them, there was a figure just behind the corner, there. And that figure was Jeff who muttered to himself, "Oh shit…"
His thoughts raced.
"I'm so screwed."
He glanced sideways.
The little girl sat on the kitchen floor, quietly chewing, small hands clutching torn flesh, completely unaware of anything else.
Jeff's expression tightened.
"…Damn it…"
His mind spun.
"What am I gonna do? What am I gonna do? Come on… come on…"
He swallowed hard.
"System… please, give me something. An evolution. Anything."
The chewing sound didn't stop.
And the soldier was almost at the doorway now. Jeff could hear the careful shift of boots against broken tile, the faint creak of the rifle being adjusted. There was no time left.
"No way… I'm not getting out of this like this…"
His thoughts stumbled over themselves, desperate and messy.
"Wait—System, you said I could purchase anything I can think of, right?"
For a brief second, there was nothing. Then the response came, calm and immediate.
"Confirmed."
Jeff exhaled sharply.
"Okay, good. Then—then let me evolve into something better. Something useful. Something cool. Something that can sneak around and get me out of this situation…"
A familiar idea surfaced, instinctive and comforting.
"My elf rogue. Yeah. That one. From Concord Online age of madness."
His eyes flicked toward the doorway, then back down.
"Stealthy, fast, quiet… just do that."
There was a pause.
"Insufficient funds. Insufficient despair points."
Jeff blinked.
"…What?"
His brow furrowed in disbelief.
"Insufficient? What do you mean insufficient? I've got—"
The thought stalled midway.
"…Wait."
He swallowed.
"…How much is one despair point worth anyway?"
"One despair point is approximately equivalent to one U.S. dollar."
Jeff stared blankly.
"…One dollar?"
For a brief moment, even with death closing in, his expression flattened in pure disbelief.
"…That's it?"
Then it clicked.
"…I did buy that syringe for one point…"
His face twitched.
"…Okay, yeah, that actually tracks."
Another step sounded from the hallway.
Closer.
Jeff snapped back, urgency crashing over him again.
"Fine—whatever. I don't care. Just give me something!"
His breathing quickened, thoughts narrowing into something more focused.
"I need to sneak. I need to get out. I need something that people won't shoot on sight…"
His gaze shifted, unfocused, imagining possibilities.
"Something small. Something normal. Something nobody questions."
His voice dropped into a hurried whisper.
"Something that can move around the city without being noticed. Something harmless. Something people don't think is dangerous…"
A strange, almost embarrassing thought crept in.
"…Something people like."
He clenched his jaw.
"Something cute. Or… no, not just cute. Something good-looking. Something that people won't immediately think is weird or suspicious."
His voice tightened.
"I don't want to look like this anymore."
His hands curled slightly.
"I don't want to be some weird white guy nerd. Just—just give me an upgrade."
The footsteps outside slowed.
Jeff's voice lowered, almost pleading now.
"Anything. I don't care what it is. Just make me something better."
For a moment, there was silence.
Then the System responded.
"Potential evolution path detected."
Jeff's heart jumped.
"…Yes."
"Evaluating host request."
The soldier's shadow shifted faintly in the doorway.
"Suitable form identified."
Jeff nodded rapidly, though no one could see it.
"Yes. Yes, do it."
"Deducting 60,000 despair points."
His breath caught.
"Commencing evolution."
There was a pause—just long enough for hope to form.
"Evolving subject: Jeff Dracula. Human species."
Relief flickered across his face.
"Finally—"
"Target form: Siberian chipmunk. Juvenile."
The relief shattered instantly.
"…What?"
The change began before he could react.
A sharp, twisting pressure surged through his body, as if something inside him had suddenly decided he was too large and needed to be corrected. His fingers shrank first, the bones compressing inward in a way that made no sense, joints collapsing as his hands twisted into something smaller, thinner, no longer human.
"Wait—no—"
His arms followed, shrinking rapidly inside the sleeves of his hoodie. The fabric sagged as his limbs pulled inward, his shoulders narrowing, his entire frame tightening as though it were being folded into itself.
Fur spread across his skin in a sudden wave, fine at first, then thickening, covering him before he could even process it.
"What the hell is this—"
His legs buckled beneath him as they shortened, his balance shifting violently. The world seemed to tilt, but it wasn't the room moving—it was him. Everything around him was growing larger, stretching upward, while he shrank lower and lower toward the floor.
"Stop—!"
The word broke apart as it left his mouth, dissolving into a high, sharp squeak that didn't belong to him.
His body tightened—and then collapsed inward.
In an instant, everything shrank.
The world lurched as his clothes swallowed him whole, fabric folding over him as he dropped into a soft, suffocating heap.
A sharp, tiny squeak burst out of him as he hit.
For a moment, there was nothing but darkness and cloth pressing in from all sides. Sleeves, folds, seams—too big, too heavy. Panic surged through him as he flailed blindly, small claws catching on fabric as he twisted and kicked, digging his way upward in frantic bursts.
Another squeak slipped out, high and helpless, as he finally forced his way free.
He tumbled out of the hoodie and landed lightly on the kitchen floor.
Air rushed into his lungs. He breathed fast, uneven, his tiny chest rising and falling as he tried to steady himself. The ground beneath him felt enormous, every crack in the tile stretched wide and unfamiliar.
Slowly, he looked down.
Small paws.
Soft fur.
A striped little body.
A tail.
His breath caught.
"…No…"
What came out was a soft, trembling chirp.
He froze, staring at himself, then tried again, louder—
"No—no, no—!"
But all that escaped him were small, frantic squeaks.
Panic tightened around him as he wobbled in place, struggling to balance, to understand, to make sense of what he had become.
Then the chewing stopped.
Jeff's entire body went still and very slowly, he looked up.
The girl had turned toward him.
Her head tilted slightly, pale eyes locking onto his tiny form. She sniffed the air once, then again, slow and deliberate, as if something new had caught her attention.
A thin strand of saliva slipped from her mouth.
Jeff swallowed.
"…Wait…"
He lifted one tiny paw, hesitant, hopeful.
"…we're still friends, right?"
A soft, uncertain chirp followed.
The girl rose to her feet.
Her movement was slow.
Hungry.
Jeff's tiny body stiffened.
"…Oh shit."