Phantom Loyalties

Victor's breaths remained heavy, his chest rising and falling as if he had run for miles. Perhaps heavier even—he and Hiroshi had just watched their home turn to ashes, swallowed by the ruins like it had never existed in the first place.

"Calm down, Victor," Hiroshi murmured, his voice a forced whisper as he sat across the dimly lit room where Amanda had left them.

But how could he calm down? The air was thick with the stench of burnt wood and blood, a suffocating reminder of everything they'd lost. They were lucky, sure—given a proper shelter instead of being thrown into those makeshift tents outside like the others. But that did nothing to ease the storm raging inside Victor.

His fingers twitched, itching to grab his shotgun and bolt into the wreckage outside, to tear apart the remains of what was once their home in search of Azumi. But even he had to admit the others were right—he’d be dead before he found her.

"Easy for you to say," Victor finally groaned, rubbing his temples. "You saw Adelina heal like it was nothing. You can sit there knowing she’ll be fine. But Azumi…" He clenched his jaw. "We've been together for three years since the outbreak. I’ve seen her get hurt—when she tripped, when she cut herself—none of those wounds ever healed fast. How am I supposed to just believe what they’re saying? That she’s fine? That she’s out there somewhere, waiting for me to find her?"

Hiroshi's lips parted, but no words came out. Because he knew Victor was right.

He himself hadn't even processed it all yet—the ruins, the missing people, the growing fear clawing at his chest.

"D-Do you think the virus was made by Xianyu Zhao?" Hiroshi finally asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Victor exhaled sharply, his hand hovering near the shotgun lying beside him. "Perhaps," he murmured, eyes dark. "From what Old Yuan told us, that man is sick in the head. If he really is behind all this, I wouldn’t be surprised."

Hiroshi swallowed. "So, you're really leaving tomorrow with the others to hunt him down?"

Victor nodded. "If it’s the only way to get to Azumi—"

"What if they're just using us?" Hiroshi cut in. The thought made Victor pause. "What if these people have their own agenda? What if they need Azumi or even Adelina for something? They could be luring them out."

Victor was silent, his eyes fixed on the damp floor before flicking back up to Hiroshi. "Then I'll use them in return. As long as I get to Azumi, I’ll figure something out. I’ll find a way out."

Hiroshi inhaled deeply before nodding. "Then I’m coming with you. We’ll figure it out once we find them."

Victor dug into his bag and pulled out two micro walkie-talkies. He tossed one to Hiroshi, who barely caught it in time. "If we get separated, we stay in touch. You report to me, I report to you. Can I trust you with that?"

Hiroshi nodded without hesitation. "Let’s get them back."

The night passed like an eternity, yet it felt like a mere blink. Victor didn't sleep—not even for a second. His body was exhausted, but the adrenaline coursing through his veins kept him wide awake. Every creak of the old building, every gust of wind scraping against the shattered windows had his fingers twitching toward his weapon.

Then morning came, and with it, Harold Abad.

"Victor Lee," the Code Three called out as he stepped into the room. He flipped through a worn-out notebook, his eyes scanning names before locking onto him.

Harold was no older than sixteen, yet he carried himself with the arrogance of someone who thought he was untouchable. Same height, same build as Victor, but something about him was off. Like he thrived in this chaos.

His gaze flicked to Hiroshi standing beside Victor, an unimpressed smirk forming on his lips. "You sure your friend, Hiroshi Sato, here won't slow us down?" Harold scoffed. "He looks like he couldn’t even swat a mosquito."

Victor's fingers tightened around the strap of his bag, his patience already thinning. "Say that again," he dared, voice low.

Harold's smirk widened. "Oh, I will. Just hope he doesn’t get in my way out there. Would be a shame if we had to leave someone behind."

Victor said nothing, but his grip on his shotgun spoke volumes.

"Give them a break," Amanda said, stepping inside and nudging Harold in the waist with her elbow. "They're new, as you can see. Handle them properly, or I'll handle you."

Harold rolled his eyes dramatically, as if they'd been forcibly shoved back into his skull. "If you're going to recruit people, at least choose someone useful," he muttered, crossing his arms.

Amanda groaned, exasperated. "Hiroshi isn't made for fights, duh? He's coming because he's one of The Codes’ special persons. You know how our tingles work."

Hiroshi and Victor exchanged confused glances. Tingles? They had no idea what she meant, but if it had anything to do with tracking down Adelina or Azumi, they weren’t about to argue.

"Then you better come and protect that one yourself," Harold grumbled, rubbing his temples before turning away.

Amanda sighed and faced Hiroshi. "Sorry about that. He kinda always wakes up on the wrong side of the bed—or the floor. Depends where he passes out."

Hiroshi chuckled. "It's fine. Besides, you don't have to worry about protecting me. I have Victor right here."

Victor scoffed. "Why me?"

"Why not? We're bros now!" Hiroshi grinned, throwing an arm around Victor’s shoulder.

Amanda raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You sure you two have girlfriends?" She smirked.

Victor shot her a glare, and she immediately backpedaled. "Yes, of course, of course. Just saying."

"Anyway," Amanda said, steering the conversation away before Victor could protest. "Breakfast’s ready. Try to keep up."

She turned on her heel, leading them through the dimly lit corridor. The scent of something cooking—probably eggs and whatever else they managed to scavenge—lingered in the air. As they stepped into the open dining hall, Hiroshi and Victor immediately felt the weight of every gaze in the room.

Men and women, dressed in ragged clothes and coated in layers of dust and grime, paused whatever they were doing to stare at them. Some were sitting on makeshift benches, others leaned against the walls, murmuring among themselves.

A few women, roughly their age, eyed them with undisguised interest. Hiroshi, clad in his clean shirt—well, cleaner than most—felt like a shiny coin tossed into a pile of dirt.

One particularly bold woman, her dark hair wild and tangled, reached out towards his arm with an almost desperate look in her eyes.

Hiroshi barely dodged in time, almost stepping on Victor’s heel as he recoiled. "P-Please don’t touch me! I am taken!" he squeaked in a hushed voice, as if afraid to provoke the crowd.

Amanda let out a laugh, covering her mouth. "Oh, I like this one," she said, shaking her head. "He's a keeper."

Victor groaned. "Great. First, I have to protect him, and now I have to protect his virtue too?"

Hiroshi straightened, dusting off his sleeve as if the near-contact had left a stain. "A gentleman must remain loyal, Victor."

Victor scoffed. "Oh, trust me. If that woman had tried to grab me instead of you, she’d already be in her next life—probably filing a complaint."

The women continued whispering among themselves, some chuckling at Hiroshi’s reaction, others still eyeing them like they were fresh meat.

Amanda led them to a wooden table where a few plates of food were set out. "Eat up before someone decides to take your breakfast and your dignity."

Victor and Hiroshi eyed the food set before them on polished silver plates, their expressions torn between disbelief and hunger.

The soft glow of the underground shelter's dim lighting reflected off the ut

ensils, making the meal before them look even more out of place in the bleakness of their reality.