Even Zombies Have Fandoms

Chapter 93

If he had signaled to be pulled up first, it might have been different. Muyoung became even more speechless when he realized that until Seokjae pulled him up, he hadn’t even thought about returning to them.

He had just experienced a literal brush with death, falling from the dizzying height of the fourth floor. With zombies converging from all directions, it wasn’t so much that he had forgotten as he hadn’t had the mental space to think about Seokjae. 

But the fact remained that he had pushed it to the back of his mind. He couldn’t help feeling guilty about that.

‘Hyung must have thought something terrible happened to me.’

A friend who promised to return had fallen with a zombie, and afterward, Seokjae had pulled up a motionless rope. What must have gone through Seokjae’s mind during this sequence of events? It was painful even to imagine.

Yet how had he himself behaved? Waving happily, blaming the zombie, and then trying to smooth things over with cuteness when Seokjae got angry because he was scared.

‘He must have been deeply shocked…’

It definitely wasn’t something that could be dismissed with just “I’m upset.” Yet Seokjae hadn’t raised his voice, but tried to calmly resolve it through conversation. Ashamed of his earlier behavior that contrasted with Seokjae’s mature attitude, Muyoung managed to squeeze out a single word in a choked voice.

“I’m sorry.”

He felt like kneeling. Since Seokjae’s thick arms wouldn’t release him, he bumped his head against Seokjae’s chest instead.

Watching the round head, Seokjae almost burst into laughter at the clear difference in sincerity compared to when Muyoung apologized for “doing something dangerous.”

‘Ah—I see, nearly dying was just an accident that can be avoided with caution. But lying to someone, even unintentionally, is wrong and worth being extremely sorry for?’

It’s what he expected Muyoung to say, but when his prediction matched exactly, it irritated him. Caught in contradictory emotions, Seokjae scoffed inwardly.

‘At this point, I wonder how worthless he considers his own body.’

Seokjae, not considering that his reaction stemmed from affection for Muyoung, suddenly felt an irrational impulse to see the limits of this vast altruism. Despite knowing it was a poisonous desire for someone trying to keep Muyoung close by exploiting that altruism, he wanted to see Muyoung stand up for himself.

‘Since there seems to be no limit on the fear or pain side, I’ll have to try something else. Something that can be reasonably resolved with an apology…’

Seokjae planned ways to torment him in a corner of his mind. Simultaneously, his schemes to make Muyoung more careful with himself continued uninterrupted.

“Speaking of which, do you remember telling me to trust that you’d come back no matter what dangerous thing you did?”

Seokjae whispered, gently stroking Muyoung’s round head.

‘Did I say something like that?’

Upon hearing this, Muyoung barely held back an instinctive “Did I?” He had already admitted not remembering once before, and confessing ignorance again would seem too unconscionable.

“Um—that…”

Of course, this response didn’t help the situation either. It merely bought him a very brief moment to think. As he hid his face against Seokjae’s chest, frantically trying to recall, a soft “haah” sound and a gentle breath touched his hair.

“You don’t even remember what you said during our bet. I guess those were meaningless words.”

“Ugh.”

At Seokjae’s sigh-laden words, Muyoung felt increasingly guilty. He probably hadn’t said something he didn’t mean or wouldn’t keep, but to think Seokjae had firmly believed words he’d said so casually that he couldn’t even remember them.

“Hyung trusted those words and accepted the bet… You just said anything to stop me from worrying and prevent me from stopping you.”

“That wasn’t my intention…”

“Hm?”

“No, I… I’m sorry.”

The third-person speech, which he initially thought Seokjae used because he liked the title, was clearly meant to scold him for trying to smooth things over with cuteness. Feeling too guilty to look at Seokjae’s face, Muyoung couldn’t correct the misunderstanding and only repeated his sincere apology.

‘I’m disqualified both as a fan and as a friend.’

He had vowed to protect his precious person but nearly created a trauma with his own hands, and made reckless promises without responsibility. He had no right to consider Seokjae “his.”

“Okay, as long as you understand what you did wrong. So.”

Fortunately, Seokjae accepted his apology, but his words weren’t finished.

From the moment Seokjae began, Muyoung thought he was going to end the bet. Intentional or not, there was no reason to continue a bet with someone who had not only broken but forgotten their promise. With slumped shoulders, feeling the reality of lost trust, Muyoung humbly awaited his verdict.

“From now on, let’s not make promises we can’t keep.”

“Yes.”

“Good. I’ll believe you’ll really keep this promise. That’s the end of the lecture.”

With those words, Seokjae released Muyoung from his embrace.

As his body was freed from the tightly wrapped arms, Muyoung unconsciously took a step back. Then, unable to believe the expected words hadn’t come, he asked with a puzzled face.

“That’s it?”

“Hm? You apologized and promised not to do it again. What else is there to say?”

“…What about the bet?”

“What about it? Nothing has changed except for what you just promised.”

Thinking Seokjae might have forgotten, Muyoung hesitantly asked again, but was confused when Seokjae looked back as if wondering what the problem was.

“Just don’t say things you can’t keep.”

Did he think Muyoung hadn’t understood his explanation? Seokjae explained once more slowly, as if teaching the rules of a game. At his words, Muyoung naturally thought of a trick.

‘So if I move without saying anything, is that okay?’

Reading the contemplative look mixed with confusion on his face, Seokjae realized this was exactly the moment to rein him in and added:

“So I can prepare too.”

The gesture of arranging the wet strands of hair on Muyoung’s face was incomparably tender.

“Prepare?”

“Prepare to follow you.”

Did he mean he would come to rescue him? Confused by the cryptic explanation, Muyoung blinked and tilted his head, prompting Seokjae to tap his now clean, white cheek with his index finger as if to emphasize his next words.

“Sudden death scares even me, you know.”

“What? Hyung, what did you just—”

“Ah, right. I almost forgot to thank you two.”

At first, Muyoung thought he’d misheard. But what he thought he misheard was too strange. With eyes wide like a startled rabbit, he tried to ask again, but Seokjae spoke first.

“Thank you for saving me.”

Tilting his head sideways, he conveyed his thanks with a bright smile to the kind audience who had been quietly listening to the conversation.

Shocked by the realization that he hadn’t misheard, Muyoung’s lips trembled as he urgently followed Seokjae’s gaze, hoping the two might be suppressing laughter or showing surprised expressions at Seokjae’s unfunny joke.

‘Ah.’

But upon seeing their faces, Muyoung felt as if his heart had dropped to the floor and gasped.

“…Um, yes.”

“N-no…”

Their expressions resembled people facing a time bomb, too severe to blame on the cold. He had thought the stiffness in their faces earlier was due to them gauging angry Seokjae’s mood, but perhaps there was another reason.

Muyoung suddenly became aware of the small ringtone continuously audible beneath the rain sound. This naturally brought to mind certain voices—the urgent voices he’d heard after his name was called out…

‘Hyung, don’t!’

‘Hyung!’

Those cries he had been certain were directed at him.

In reality, that “Hyung” had been calling someone else—Seokjae. He didn’t even want to imagine exactly what had happened.

After the two responded, no one spoke, and the surroundings instantly fell silent. The zombies that had been pounding on the door outside had long since disappeared, leaving only faint noises from outside the window to fill the classroom.

Despite having resolved all life-threatening situations, a comparable tension permeated the cool air. Only the instigator of this atmosphere maintained a light heart.

‘Wow—that worked well.’

He had tried to avoid using his own life to hold onto Muyoung, but to make him careful, there was no choice but to make him bear the responsibility for someone else’s life.

‘You should have behaved when you had the chance.’

Seokjae silently smirked, condemning Muyoung for not being careful when his life alone was at stake.