Announcement.

The courtyard in front of the administration building at St. Francis buzzed with murmurs, students gathered in tight clusters, whispering anxiously.

"What's going on? Do you know?" A voice cut through the chatter, high-pitched with curiosity.

"Are they giving our results back?"

That question sent a shiver through the crowd. No one was ready for that. It would be a traumatic end to their fun day.

"No idea. But what's with that cryptic message they sent? Did you guys get it?" another student asked, voicing the thought on everyone's mind.

Heads nodded in agreement, though Ella Thompson kept hers rigid as a rod, staring straight ahead. Those watching for her reaction were instantly disappointed.

"Looks like even the golden student is in the dark," someone muttered.

"Oh, speaking of the golden student, have you guys heard? The model couple... they split."

"No way!"

"Yes way. My friend saw her—ahem, the girlfriend—walking back to campus... on foot!"

Ella resisted the urge to roll her eyes. If she reacted, they'd know it bothered her. So she stayed silent, letting them entertain themselves with wild theories about her breakup.

"Maybe they just had a lovers' quarrel. It happens."

"No, it was a whole thing. It's all over our group chat. They even made memes out of Derek's face." The girl giggled, pulling out her phone. "Here, look. 'When your girlfriend dumps you and you need an oxygen tank.' And this one—'Golden boy just got shown the door. Look at him leave.' Oh, and my favorite: 'What's Derek in a relationship? A fish without oxygen.'"

Her friend suddenly squirmed, ducking her head.

Derek was standing nearby.

Livid.

The girl he'd used to build his perfect reputation had now become the source of his downfall. And she dared to walk away from him? Reject a ride from him? Were they really over? Impossible. If this ended, it would end on his terms.

He had led this orchestra, and there was no way she would suddenly snatch the baton. She would dance to his tune again.

He exhaled. Yes, she would conform. She had to.

Deliberately, he strode toward her.

"Ella."

The courtyard stilled.

Over 250 students from the class of 2066 held their breath, eager to see what would happen next.

"I'll give you your basketball jacket tomorrow morning," Ella said, unfazed.

Unlike Derek, she had already counted everything she needed to return. On her walk back to campus, she'd realized something: had he always forced his belongings on her for appearances? And worse—had she let it happen? She had so many of his things that using them had become second nature.

"What? No—" Derek started.

Ella cut him off. "Wait, do you want it today? Fine. I cleaned it; it's ready to go."

"Ella, what are you saying?" He exhaled sharply. How could she be so emotionless? A basketball jacket? He had dozens. He wanted her to keep it.

But the look in her eyes sent a chill through him.

Was he dating a cold monster? No way. Where was the warm, docile Miss Perfect? He needed to get her back. Her sudden change didn't make sense.

Before he could think, he grabbed her.

Gasps echoed through the courtyard.

Ignoring the eager eyes on them, he pulled her close and crashed his lips against hers.

For a moment, relief flooded him. There it was—her softness, the cherry taste he found tolerable. He wouldn't mind being with her as long as she had these bearable qualities. That was how it had always been. A relationship born from campus shipping and the illusion of perfection—not love.

But lately, he had started to want more.

He had to know: was she truly perfect in all ways, as she had led everyone—even him—to believe? How could he let her go before finding out?

But then—

Something was wrong.

She wasn't responding.

Instead of obediently opening her mouth, she kept her lips sealed tight.

Ella was appalled.

She had tolerated Derek because her mother had told her that finding a good husband was difficult. So, when he asked her out in their fifth year, she figured she might as well try. At least it saved her from worrying about dating.

But she had to admit one thing: Derek was a terrible kisser.

All he left her with were bruises and swollen lips—not from passion, but from his need for dominance.

And now, as she felt the force of his tongue trying to invade her mouth, she bit him.

Derek jerked back, clutching his lip.

Ella exhaled, her breath slightly uneven. But otherwise, she was fine.

"Ella, what the hell is wrong with you?!" he shouted.

She tilted her head. "You seemed a little drunk. I was waking you up."

"I'm not drunk!" Derek snapped. He had only taken two sips.

Ella scoffed. "Then either you have selective memory loss, or you can't comprehend simple human language."

"Ella—"

"We broke up, Derek. I meant it. I just didn't expect you to air your own dirty laundry for everyone to see."

"Ella! What do you mean?" Derek shouted.

Ella's lips curled into a smirk. "You're a horrible kisser. It was barely tolerable before, but now? Your skills have deteriorated. And while I was going to keep quiet about it until after graduation, well… you just outed yourself."

Laughter erupted around them.

Derek trembled with rage, but before he could speak, a voice cut through the noise.

"Thank you, Student Derek and Miss Ella, for that entertaining icebreaker."

The courtyard fell silent.

A woman stood on the podium, her sharp gaze sweeping over the students.

"We apologize for calling you in on your last day as students," she began. "You are the best of the best. We molded you into fine doctors. Even those who resisted, we shaped into what society needs."

Ella barely listened. The woman's voice droned on, but she caught the words "responsibilities."

"Yes," the professor continued. "You are responsible for lives now. However, this responsibility comes in a new era."

Before anyone could question her, the projector screen behind her flickered to life.

Snarling.

Screams of agony.

People running. 

Dead people, others half eaten. 

A sea of dead and living swarmed the screen.

Zombies.

"Welcome, class of 2066," the professor announced. "You will be practicing medicine in a world that has come to an end."