Chapter Five

There was a nanny shut in the kitchen, then an elderly butler in a bedroom. Inside a closed space, it was a bit trickier, but Isolde kept her plan of knocking them over before striking first, feeling her clothes too thin for their sharpened nails.

Just one day and they already seemed to have sharper teeth and nails.

Again she thought, why hadn't she been obsessed with Western Zombies, why Asian?

Thankfully, he led her inside his bedroom and not his father's office, telling her to wait there as he dealt with something.

Pacing whilst rubbing her cold arms, she prepared herself for his mental breakdown. When the lightbulb grew bright and then exploded with a pop, she knew he found the death certificate. Curling up in a ball on the bed, she hugged his silk pillow, debating whether to comfort him.

What could she even say or do? Every time she tried to help her ex-boyfriend when he was in a bad mood, she always made it worse.

Squeezing the pillow tighter she took a deep breath, smelling the clean laundry scent.

If Oscar was upset, what would she do? Remember he's your horse, trust your horse, Izzy.

Carefully, she walked down the dark hallway. All the lightbulbs had gone out now. Only the street lamps outside cascaded a dim glow through the windows, like little patches of light among the darkness to aim for with each step.

Instead of hearing things smash or angry shouting like her ex, she heard crying.

He was crying.

Her footsteps quicked into a run as she burst through the door to see him leaning against the front of his father's desk. The corpse of his dad was by his feet with his sword pining the head to the polished wooden floor.

His hands clutched the paperwork, with more of it scattered around. Since he was an IT genius, his father kept it all on paper inside a secure safe with only one key he kept on him at all times. She remembered writing that.

"Zimo," she called cautious not to be accidentally blown to a crisp like the corpse at her feet.

"Zimo," slowly she walked over to the corpse to kneel beside him, prepared to bolt at any point if he turned his rage on her.

His narrow eyes stared at the death certificate carefully held in his shaking hands. She had never written how his mother died, glancing it showed she had committed suicide by a fall.

Her hands moved to take it away, but he gripped tighter, saying nothing.

Unable to stand the water dripping down his chin, she used her sleeve to wipe them away, "It's okay Zimo, I'm here, it'll be alright, I'm with you," she coaxed him like he was Oscar spooked on a ride.

Finally, he dropped the certificate to pull her onto his lap, his silent tears became hoarse cries as he buried his head in her chest to muffle them.

"I should have known," he said between sobs, the almost thirty-year-old man's voice broken like a teenager.

Her hand was unsure of what to do as he almost squeezed the breath out of her. Luckily she had mutated and her body had healed her previous injuries or her fractured rib could have cracked completely puncturing a lung. He was not even aware of his strength and that scared her.

Smoothing down his hair, she just continued making soothing noises.

"It was my AI, my AI, I should have known it wasn't her on the phone, I should have known," he rambled his cries getting louder. Every time he spoke to her as a reward for three years now it was a lie. It was all a lie. 

"The brain can be stupid at times to protect itself," she spoke gently, trying to keep her voice like she was coaxing Oscar not to buck her.

Oscar used to be so skittish from his previous home; it took her well over two years to get him to trust her. Dad wanted her to pick another of Gramp's horses. If she had been ignorant of Oscar's past, she would have agreed. The knowing made her unable to abandon him, seeing herself inside the young colt.

"Come on, we should go rest," she tried to coax his arms off her to stand.

To her surprise, he kept one arm around her and stood up holding her up, forcing her arms and legs to cling to him like a baby panda.

"Z-Zimo put me down," she anxiously pleaded, scared he would trip and drop her.

Ignoring her, he stepped over his father and pulled the sword out of his father's head. It trailed along the floor, emitting a few sparks that made her flinch and squeeze him tighter.

"We'll sleep here tonight," sounding haggard and drained, he finally spoke after leaving the office. Then, he carried her back to his bedroom, slightly staggering but refusing to let go.

Inside his bedroom, he sat on the edge of his bed still holding her like a teddy bear. His head buried back into her chest as she had no choice but to straddle his lap.

To her, he was a stranger, a character she had written on a whim envisioning her dream villain. To him, she was the little girl he watched grow up for ten years in his classmate's home, forcibly made his wife.

She wanted to draw a line, make him aware that that little girl died and she replaced her, but he had just lost everything. That would be too hard a blow.

To survive she had to look after him well and raise him well. When he was mentally stable, she could tell him then. Or disappear. Usually, when facing a fight or flight moment, she would always flee.

They needed to find the heroine and deal with the villainess before the base was built, then, she could flee once she was confident he would be the hero he should have been not the villain she made.

He did not have to know. He never needed to know. She couldn't break him.

Kissing the top of his head softly as she would Oscar, she gave him a slight squeeze to wake up his daze, "Come on, let's get ready for bed."

"Just a moment longer," his hands gripped the hoodie so desperately that Isolde couldn't refuse.

Why was her heart suddenly attacked by a few tears? He was a man she created and knew well. He wasn't her Dad or Gramps. He would hurt her. He would abandon her.

She almost fell to the floor as he abruptly stood up.

"Sorry," He mumbled as the door was rudely slammed open.

"Little Yi," Haofeng called, dropping to her feet which hung off the bed, "Are you hurt?"

Scrambling back she looked up startled at Zimo with pleading eyes.

"Brother Feng, she was with me, do you doubt my capabilities?" He patted Haofeng's shoulder comfortingly, the cold mask back on his face.

Haofeng glanced at the dirty sword, then slumped in relief.

"That's good, get your things, a few of those who made it are inside our villa," he picked himself up brushing away the imaginary dust on his knees 

Torn, Zimo turned to her unable to answer. 

Feeling full of guilt at her selfishness, she nodded her head. 

Haofeng took his car back as Isolde ran to enter Zimo's, ignoring his pained expression. 

"We don't have to go back, just say the word I'll take you elsewhere," Zimo solemnly promised.

"No I'm overreacting," Isolde resigned to fate. Zimo did not deserve her oil bottle self holding him back.

"She tried to kill you," he gritted his teeth, reluctant to start the car.

"No it wasn't that bad," she nervously chuckled, "she just wanted to make me wish I was dead," thinking of those three ugly hooligans she shuddered at the thought of them touching her. Even if this wasn't her own body, Fuyi was gone and Isolde had to live in it. So it was hers now.

Thinking of that stiletto, his hands grabbed the wheel as he started the car. "Got it."

Exiting the car, Isolde felt her heart squeeze in her chest. Her hand clutched Zimo's arm instinctively out of fear.

Why was she so scared? As Zimo said any issues right now, she really could kill the villainess.

But that was murder! 

"Little sister," a young woman ran out the door collapsing to bang her head on the floor like a eunuch who'd wronged the Emperor.

"Xin'er get up," Haofeng ran ahead to stop his sister, feeling aggrieved at her pitiful state. It was all his fault. If he'd shared the truth with Jiaxin, then she wouldn't have misunderstood their little sister.

"Little Yi, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry." Her brother was too strong and she was forced to stand up.

Isolde studied the villainess thinking a breeze could blow her away.

She was four years younger than the male lead and six years older than herself. Although Fuyi's father was the prime minister's assistant who took a bullet for him, they weren't an elite family. 

Compared to the real rich young miss, Isolde felt lacking. 

If she'd written Jiaxin as a charming volumptress vixen villainess maybe it would be easier to see her as something to fear. Instead, she faced the weak little sister next door. Her fear felt ridiculous. 

"OK," she hoarsely called, barely able to keep her legs straight under her. "Zimo and I have had a tiring day and even more tiring night," she paused feeling breathless, "Can we go take a rest in our room first?"

"Our?" Haofeng looked up from wiping his sister's tears. 

"Umm… brother-in-law we are very tired." Zimo was surprised she offered to share a room but felt she was too scared to be alone.

"Did you even process the certificate?" Haofeng growled at his friend who snatched his little sister.

"It's in the car," Zimo smiled widely, not a sign of fatigue. Yet Isolde felt his legs slightly tremble. If they waited much longer the pair might just collapse to sleep here on the pathway.

Inside the villa, five haggard faces turned to face them as they aimed for the stairs.

She saw Dr. An had been talking animatedly with one of the men Isolde recognized from the KTV. The rest were strangers.

Upon noticing them, Lixin jumped up and hugged them both. 

"Save it for after we've slept," Zimo coldly spoke, prying him off yet still squeezing his shoulder with emotion, reluctant to let go of his best friend.

"Okay, are there any injuries? I brought some things from home." Dr An swiftly moved Isolde's fringe making her flinch and pull back, covering the non-existent wound.

"We are just exhausted, we haven't slept yet," Zimo finally let go of Lixin's shoulder to pull her away and lead her towards the stairs.

Lixin felt confused but saw his best friend was somewhat different so simply wished them a goodnight despite it being almost dawn.

Inside the unfamiliar room, Isolde suddenly felt comfortable, like a bear returning to the security of their den. Stripping off her clothes she did not even bathe, just collapsed face-first into the bed. She was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

Zimo looked at the girl wearing only his underwear and bandages for a few moments before realizing she was fast asleep.

Chuckling he walked over to move and tuck her in, perched on the bed beside her he pulled out her clumsy pigtails gently muttering, "Just who are you?"

Showered and comfortably dressed in Fuyi's gym wear, Isolde glanced at the sleeping man on the bed.

Cautiously, she called his name to wake him up. Seeing him remain a log, she walked over and shook his shoulder, "wake up we should go eat." 

When she woke earlier, she noticed all his possessions had moved into her room. She must have been very tired to not notice her husband moving in.

She shook him harder and found the world spinning as she was held underneath with a blade at her throat.

"Shit," he quickly withdrew his hidden blade and climbed off her.

"Good afternoon to you too," she mumbled, neatening her hair she'd just painstakingly put into two French plaits.

"Afternoon already?" Zimo had never slept so soundlessly. He couldn't even remember dreaming.

"Yeah go shower and get ready, I'm hungry and you didn't bring up snacks," she complained.

Zimo grabbed a bag and went into the ensuite.

When he left the ensuite, he found her burning a hole into the carpet beside the door.

Why was she so scared? Did she think the siblings would notice? But even the birthmark on her ankle was the same as before. This had to be Fuyi. Yet they acted only subtly alike.

The nature was the same, but the nurture was all wrong. There was an insane possibility appearing in his head, but it felt too unreal.

Walking over, he tossed the towel he used on his hair aside and pushed her up against the door.

She looked suddenly afraid of him.

Taking a step back, he asked quietly, "You still don't remember everything do you?"

Isolde's little heart was already attacked by the handsome man smelling of her shampoo, then he dropped a bomb on her.

"S-some things are a bit foggy," she lied. It was all foggy. No, it wasn't foggy, it was opaque. Every time she tried hard to remember something, even if it felt the tiniest bit familiar, it felt like there was a block in her mind.

There was nothing there but her twenty-four years as Isolde Shaw.

"Umm… I will ask Brother Li to take another look at your head," he pulled her aside to open the door and leave. His head and heart raced making him feel somewhat dizzy at all the possibilities. 

"No, there's no need to worry. I'm healthy. Considering everything, we should prioritize the zombies and not worry everyone," she argued, holding onto his jumper sleeve.

He paused to look down at her, "I still need to tell Brother Li but only him."

"Okay," she bit her lip, hoping Dr An could live up to how she wrote him well.

He was Zimo's neighbor and even deskmate up until college. As they were the two science needs of their friend group they were very close.

However, in the end, Dr An turns on him after he makes the robots that kill living people.

Leaning to whisper in her ear, he warned her, "If you want to keep it a secret, stay beside me and don't speak unless forced or you remember."

Isolde nodded having planned to do that anyway.

Jiaxin was crying on the sofa being comforted by one of the two girls. The young men were sitting around the table with a glum expression.

"You're awake," Lixin noticed them first, "how are you feeling now?"

"What's wrong now?" Zimo skipped the morning pleasantries, concerned something worse had happened since he slept.

"It's the electronics, it all," One boy spat out, but found himself unable to continue.

"It's a coronal mass ejection," Lixin explained with a groan, rubbing his temples.

"No," Zimo went rigid, then whispered, "my baby," and ran out of the room.