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Chapter 21
Since you’re like this, it keeps reminding me of the day we went on that picnic together. Do you remember? You insisted on making the cream for the muffins yourself and spent over an hour whisking the milk you’d skimmed that morning. Back then, neither of us knew you had to stir in one direction only—we just whipped it wildly and ended up ruining the cream entirely. In the end, we had to make do with the butter and jam we’d prepared the day before.”
“……”
“And then…”
Whenever Nana finished her day, she unfailingly made her way to the tree stump where Ash sat.
She spoke as naturally as breathing, continuing her stories without pause, while Ash remained seated there in silence.
From a distance, they might have looked like a gentle couple sharing quiet conversation. But up close, anyone could see it was a monologue—memories remembered by only one of them.
Nana recalled the days she had worked herself half-mad.
She had stopped going to the Eastern Forest and focused solely on farming. Even though the zombies handled all the labor, she deliberately dirtied her own hands—sowing seeds, mixing compost, pressing soil.
As if trying to exhaust her body enough to empty her mind, she buried herself in fieldwork until sunset. At night, she collapsed into sleep.
And yet, in the end, it was she who could not endure it and returned to the stump once more.
Ash was still there, sitting in the same posture according to her command.
The sunlight brushing his profile momentarily reminded her of the days when he had been alive.
That was what made it hurt even more.
Because she knew better than anyone that he could not possibly have returned to life.
“Fine. I’ll admit it. I still miss you, Ash.”
Looking at his expressionless face, Nana continued softly.
“More precisely, when I look at you, I remember that village. Sweet Little Village. That peaceful, warm place. That’s why I wanted to avoid you. Facing you makes it hurt.”
“……”
“But now that I’ve admitted it, I actually feel a little better. I guess being honest is better than forcing myself to look away. So from now on, I’m going to come every day.”
She sat quietly beside him and whispered as if to herself.
“If I stop running and keep facing it, someday I’ll be okay. Sweet Little Village… you… someday I’ll be able to remember without it hurting.”
She wanted to believe that.
Clinging to the simple truth that pain dulls when faced, she sat there every day.
But reality was the opposite.
With each passing day, she sank deeper into the past.
The more she looked at him, the more her heart crumbled.
“Before the world became like this, we made a promise.”
Carefully, Nana brought up the memory.
“When the village flower festival opens in May, we said we’d dance together.”
Her voice grew softer, but her emotions sharpened.
All the memories she had suppressed began rising again.
She knew.
She knew how much they hurt her, how these feelings clung to her like a trap around her ankles.
And yet she couldn’t escape.
Because the happy moments had been that sweet—and that deeply engraved.
“I was really looking forward to it. Dancing with you at the flower festival, and then after that, I was going to…”
Her words trailed off as she lowered her gaze.
The fluttering anticipation of that time, the image of petals scattering as they looked at one another—it could only be spoken now as a story that had already ended.
And then—
Ash’s vacant lips began to move. Slowly. So very slowly.
“…Na… Na…”
Nana’s breath caught in her throat.
He had spoken.
The one who had never said a word until now had opened his mouth like something out of a dream.
‘Did he… just speak?’
Her whole body froze, then began trembling violently.
Rational thought had long since evaporated.
The desperate longing buried deep in her heart urged her not to wait any longer.
Her shaking hand moved closer to him.
Just as her fingertips neared his cheek, someone’s hand seized her arm and yanked her back.
“What do you think you’re doing!”
It was Ishanka.
Held in his grasp, Nana flinched and looked up.
Clear anger and worry were mixed in his expression.
And that anger came from his desperate wish that she would not be hurt.
He pulled her fully into his arms, putting even more distance between her and Ash.
“No matter that they don’t harm you and follow your commands, that thing is still a zombie.”
His voice was firm—but trembling.
“Even an accidental brush against its teeth could turn you into the same kind of being.”
“……Then what am I supposed to do?”
Cradled helplessly in his arms, Nana asked with a shattered expression.
Tears rolled down her cheek where her face pressed against his shoulder.
“If I avoid Ash, it hurts. If I face him, it hurts even more…”
Her small voice shook.
“How do I make this feeling disappear? How do I erase the memories of peaceful Sweet Little Village along with it?”
The tears she had held back burst all at once.
What began as a single drop became an endless stream down both cheeks.
Ishanka was not wrong.
Ash was someone of the past—now nothing more than an irreversible remnant of death.
But the human heart is not that simple.
For her, it wasn’t just about Ash.
It was the everyday life they shared. The warmth of Sweet Little Village. The chatter and laughter around a warm table. The neighbors’ kindness. The joy of watching crops grow together.
All of it had been her precious first—and her everything.
Now that world was gone, and only sorrow remained.
Nana had truly loved Sweet Little Village.
The simple warmth of her neighbors. The small but precious daily routines.
Planting beginner seeds in her tiny garden, tending to the sprouts as they grew—it had not been tedious but comforting.
And above all—
The campaign target, Ash.
Those mornings when he would drop by almost every day under the excuse of skimming milk.
The mischievous expression he wore when he shook the milk bottle upside down and asked, “Doesn’t it seem thinner today?”
All of it was now an unattainable memory.
Of course, it hadn’t all been perfect.
As Song Nana, accustomed to modern life, living without a smartphone had driven her crazy, and a day of hand-washing laundry and cooking over a hearth had been exhausting.
Through it all, she had come to appreciate the greatness of washing machines and gas stoves.
She had even saved money, intending to buy similar items immediately if they ever appeared as in-game cash shop items.
But even so, she had loved it.
“Goodness, Nana, you’re here? Have you eaten? If not, why don’t you eat at our place tonight? I made meatballs, but I absentmindedly made far too many.”
Mrs. Dorothy always said she had “made too much,” but Nana knew it was sincere kindness.
“So you’re the new resident who moved to the farm? Did you come with your family?”
“What? You came alone? How can a young girl manage such a large piece of land by herself? Even this small ranch takes the whole family… Wait just a moment—Ash! Ash!!”
When she first moved there and said she was alone, Ash’s mother, Mrs. Laura, had panicked and immediately called for her son.
That seemingly stern yet deeply affectionate touch remained warmly in Nana’s memory.
That precious daily life had collapsed in an instant because of a single error.
There had been a chance.
There had been an escape route to leave this place and return to her original world.
And yet Nana had not left.
No—she had not been able to.
Because the memories here were not just game nostalgia.
They were time filled with sincerity, scenery she had come to love with her heart—her first and her everything.
“I know. I know the world can’t go back to the way it was.”
Her trembling voice flowed softly.
“But… does that mean I can’t look back even once? Am I not allowed to turn around? Do I have to just keep walking forward?”
Before she could finish, another tear fell.
And once it fell, it would not stop.
Nana was crying.
Desperately. Miserably. Like someone hollowed out inside.
Her collapsed emotions poured out in words and tears.
Ishanka watched her in silence for a moment.
Confusion and pity tangled in his expression before he carefully pulled her into an embrace.
“I was wrong.”
The words were so unexpected that Nana lifted her head to look at him.
Her eyes were still wet, her face flushed from crying.
“Wh-why are you apologizing?”
Ishanka met her gaze calmly and answered quietly,
“Because my words made you cry.”
It was so simple. So gentle.
It almost made her cry harder.
“That’s not it… It’s just… I miss him so much. Those memories were so good… I don’t want to let them go somehow…”
Her voice trailed off as she lowered her head again.
Then she leaned into Ishanka’s chest and began to sob.
He held her without a word.
In his arms, Nana clung as if grasping the last remaining warmth in the world, quietly weeping.
After a long while, Ishanka whispered softly,
“…Don’t cry.”
His voice was calm and tender, yet filled with restrained emotion.
The single sentence touched somewhere deep inside her, and the tears that had begun to subside flowed again.
Unable to say anything more, Nana poured out her grief in his arms.
And there, upon the wreckage of a time that had already ended, the two of them stood quietly, holding onto each other’s hearts.
