ALL OF US ARE DEAD

The cafeteria at Hyosan High was always loud around lunchtime—students chatting in clusters, plastic trays clattering against metal countertops, and the occasional laughter cutting through the din. The air was thick with the scent of fried food, warm rice, and something faintly tangy, probably kimchi.

Ethan sat at a table near the windows, across from Nam-ra.

As usual, she ate in silence, her movements precise and controlled. She picked up a piece of radish with her chopsticks and placed it neatly in her mouth, chewing slowly. She never rushed, never fidgeted, and never seemed particularly interested in small talk.

Ethan, on the other hand, was still getting used to everything—his uniform, the food, the way people stole glances at him like he was some kind of exhibit.

He adjusted his tie absentmindedly, feeling the stiff fabric scratch against his neck. Why do they make these things so uncomfortable? He'd always preferred the casual style back in California—hoodies, jeans, sneakers. The formal blazers and slacks made him feel like he was pretending to be someone else.

His light brown, slightly wavy hair was an easy giveaway amidst the sea of dark-haired students, making him stand out without even trying. His sharper jawline and mixed heritage only added to the curiosity surrounding him. He wasn't oblivious to the way some of the girls giggled behind their hands, stealing glances when they thought he wasn't looking, whispering in hushed tones.

He should have been flattered. And, in a way, he appreciated the attention—it was better than being completely ignored. But more often than not, it left him feeling exposed, like an outsider under constant scrutiny, never quite blending in no matter how hard he tried.

Still, there were some things about Hyosan High that definitely caught his interest. The school uniforms, for one. The girls' skirts were shorter than what he was used to back in California, revealing smooth, toned legs as they walked through the hallways or sat cross-legged at their tables. He tried not to stare, but it was hard not to notice—especially when some of the girls made a point of stretching just a little more than necessary or adjusting their skirts absentmindedly.

It made his heart beat a little faster, and he hated how obvious it probably was. Focus, Ethan. He had bigger things to worry about—like surviving another awkward lunch in silence with Nam-ra.

Nam-ra didn't seem to care.

He glanced at her. Her long black hair cascaded over her shoulders, smooth and perfectly kept. Her blazer was pristine, her posture perfect. She was beautiful in a cold, distant way—like a painting that belonged in a museum. He'd heard rumors about her. The "ice queen." The smartest student in 2-5. Too good for anyone else.

But as far as Ethan could tell, she wasn't mean—just indifferent.

Ethan pushed a few grains of rice around his plate with his chopsticks, not particularly hungry. He'd never been a huge fan of cafeteria food, but it was growing on him. The kimchi was still a bit strong, but he didn't mind the steamed eggs or spicy pork. The problem wasn't the food.

It was the feeling that no matter how many lunches he had in this place, he'd always feel like an outsider.

Nam-ra broke the silence. "You don't have to force yourself to eat it."

Ethan blinked. "What?"

She gestured slightly toward his tray. "The kimchi. You keep hesitating before you take a bite."

Ethan let out a small chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. "That obvious, huh?"

She gave a barely-there shrug and returned to her meal.

Before Ethan could think of something else to say, a sudden, piercing scream split the cafeteria's chaotic noise.

The entire room froze.

Heads turned toward the entrance.

A girl from one of the second-year classes came stumbling through the double doors, her face streaked with sweat, eyes wild with terror.

She wasn't just running—she was fleeing.

Behind her, something—someone—staggered into the cafeteria. A boy in a school uniform, but something was wrong with him. His posture was jerky, his head twitching at unnatural angles. His mouth was smeared with blood, his vacant, soulless eyes scanning the room like a predator searching for prey.

The girl tried to scream again, but before she could, her foot caught on the leg of a chair.

She fell hard onto the cafeteria tiles.

Ethan barely had time to process what was happening before the bloodstained boy pounced on her.

A sickening crunch filled the air as his teeth sank into her neck.

Gasps, screams—then absolute pandemonium.

Students bolted from their seats, chairs and trays crashing to the floor. Some shoved past each other, desperate to get to the exits. Others stood in shock, their brains struggling to make sense of what they were seeing.

Ethan's heart slammed against his ribs.

What the fuck is happening?

Nam-ra had risen to her feet, her usually calm expression now unreadable, her body tense.

Then the real horror began.

More figures pushed through the cafeteria doors—students, teachers, but… changed. Their bodies moved with unnatural speed, their mouths open in grotesque snarls, blood dripping from their teeth.

More screams. More people running.

Ethan watched in frozen horror as a girl near the vending machines tried to shove one of them away—only for the infected student to sink his teeth into her arm. She shrieked, struggling, but the creature ripped away a chunk of flesh, sending blood spraying across the tiles.

A sudden thud near him made Ethan whirl around.

On-jo.

She was on the ground, her arms trembling as she tried to push herself up. She must have been knocked over in the chaos.

"Run, On-jo!"

That was Cheong-san's voice, somewhere behind them.

Ethan didn't hesitate. He lunged forward and grabbed her hand, yanking her up before the wave of stampeding students could crush her.

"Come on!" he shouted.

On-jo's eyes were filled with terror, but she clutched his hand tightly. They ran, weaving through the panicked crowd, avoiding flailing limbs and fallen bodies.

Cheong-san stood near the far exit, waving frantically. "Over here! Hurry!"

They sprinted toward him, but Ethan's eyes caught something near the door. A janitor's cart.

More importantly—a mop.

Without thinking, he grabbed the wooden handle and snapped it against the wall, breaking off the mop head. The jagged end left him with a makeshift spear-like weapon.

"Smart thinking," Cheong-san panted, eyeing the weapon.

On-jo was still in shock, gripping Ethan's arm as if letting go would mean death.

Around them, the cafeteria had become a bloodbath.

A boy tried to crawl away, only for one of the infected to grab him by the ankle and drag him back, teeth sinking into his calf. Another girl screamed as a teacher—a goddamn teacher—bit into her shoulder, blood spilling down her uniform.

The sounds—the horrible wet tearing, the inhuman hissing, the cries of the dying—were everywhere.

Cheong-san's breathing was ragged. "We can't stay here!"

Ethan gritted his teeth and nodded.

They pushed forward, dodging bodies, ducking under flailing arms. A student lunged at them, his mouth twisted into an animalistic snarl.

Ethan thrust his broken mop handle forward, jamming the jagged end into the boy's chest. It didn't pierce deep, but it was enough to knock him back, sending him crashing into a table.

"Holy shit, Ethan," Cheong-san breathed.

Ethan ignored him, gripping the weapon tighter. His hands were shaking, but he couldn't afford to stop moving.

On-jo stumbled again, but Ethan caught her, keeping her close.

"Almost there!" Cheong-san shouted.

They reached the exit just as another infected student slammed into the door, blocking their way.

Ethan raised his makeshift spear, his pulse hammering.

The infected charged.

And Ethan—without thinking—swung.

The jagged wood struck the creature's head, sending it sprawling.

Cheong-san yanked open the door, and they barreled through, slamming it shut behind them.

Breathless. Panting. Terrified.

The cafeteria doors rattled violently behind them—the infected were trying to break through.

Ethan swallowed hard, still gripping his weapon. He looked at On-jo, who was trembling. At Cheong-san, whose hands were shaking. At Nam-ra, who had followed them, her expression unreadable but her fists clenched.

No one spoke for a long moment.

Then Ethan broke the silence.

"We need to find somewhere safe," he said, his voice hoarse. "Now."

No one disagreed.

And so, they ran.