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Chapter 08
‘No.’
I clenched my fists, fighting every ounce of instinct. I had to get away from that smell as fast as possible. But the Grand Duke stood blocking the door completely—there was nowhere to run.
“If you really wanted to help the Crown Prince, you should’ve given your blood.”
There was a good reason I couldn’t. But since I couldn’t say it aloud, there was no way to clear up the misunderstanding.
“I’m sorry, My Lady.”
In the end, the only way to end this was to apologize.
“Hah? Are you even being sincere right now?”
“I’m sorry for hurting you.”
I pressed myself as close to the wall as I could and apologized just the way he wanted.
I only wanted this situation to end—soon.
No. You have to endure it.
It was hard to hold it back.
I was scared—terrified that if I lost focus even for a second, I might bite Lillia. Of course, my head would probably be chopped off before that happened.
Still, my heart pounded violently, and my body began to twitch beyond my control.
“…I’m sorry.”
Even knowing I might die, I wanted to bite her. If I could just do that once, maybe dying wouldn’t be so bad.
“Stop it. It wasn’t her fault! She wandered through the forest alone for three days before she finally came back!”
That was when my legs gave out.
“Even after she came back, she hasn’t been well enough to eat properly. She needs to recover right now. How could you say she should’ve done this instead? If anyone should’ve done it, it should’ve been me.”
Lillia Swedy’s voice rose sharply.
“I said I’m fine! Why are you pushing her so hard?”
I didn’t have the strength to lift my head, but then there was a noise—a scuffle—and the door slammed shut.
It seemed Lillia had pushed the Grand Duke out and closed the door herself.
Lillia’s Thoughts
Penelope Lloyd.
She was such an infuriating person.
Lillia, who had never truly hated anyone in her life, finally understood what hatred felt like whenever she saw Penelope.
“Lady Swedy, where on earth did you find that dress? How utterly provincial. I can’t believe you showed up like that. Forget being embarrassed—don’t you at least feel sorry for the host?”
Always sneering, always finding a chance to insult.
“Oops, my hand slipped. Oh well, at least it spilled on that hideous dress of yours.”
And the bullying—so blatant.
Even when everyone was turning into monsters, she didn’t stop.
She complained about walking, snatched a seat meant for a pregnant woman, and whined about being tired. If she hated hardship so much, she could’ve gone to that territory that promised safety instead of being stubborn.
Even on the way to the fortress, she insisted on riding a horse up the mountain. Because she delayed them, they ran into zombies.
Those who had gone ahead were already bitten and transformed into grotesque things.
Only then, when she saw the zombies herself, did Penelope realize how dire the situation was—and started screaming that she wanted to go back.
After spewing venom over others’ deaths, she was now making a scene to save her own skin. Lillia had never felt such raw disgust before.
It was because of Penelope that their hiding place was discovered.
A stupid woman—so helpless that all she knew how to do was whine about her social standing.
As Lillia ran up the mountain, she cursed Penelope Lloyd with every breath. How many people had nearly died because of her?
What Lillia felt toward Penelope was undoubtedly hatred—pure and simple.
But then…
When her lungs burned and her legs grew heavy, Penelope Lloyd suddenly grabbed her wrist and yanked her upward—hard—like she refused to let her fall behind.
Even gasping and out of breath, Lillia stared down at that hand in disbelief.
Penelope’s lips were parted, drool on her chin, clearly beyond exhaustion—yet she still held on tight. Her face was twisted with pain and effort, but she refused to let go.
And when they reached that huge boulder blocking the path—Penelope did something even stranger.
She gave up her turn. She should’ve insisted on climbing first, but instead she pushed Lillia upward, almost automatically. There wasn’t even a flicker of hesitation.
That same Penelope Lloyd braced her body beneath Lillia’s feet, giving her a boost, urging her to climb.
“Your Highness, what about her?”
“…It’s already too late.”
The Crown Prince’s voice carried no false hope.
It was a death sentence. Yet Lillia couldn’t stop looking back.
Her wrist—where Penelope had held on—was still damp with the woman’s sweat.
That stupid woman who could only whine about her pedigree.
When Lillia finally reached the fortress and collapsed, retching on the floor, one thought wouldn’t leave her mind—
If Penelope Lloyd hadn’t lifted me first… the one who should’ve died would’ve been me.
Lillia thought she knew that simple-minded girl well. But no matter how much she replayed it, she couldn’t understand why Penelope had helped her, why she’d pushed her up first.
But in truth, it didn’t matter anymore.
Whatever her reason—Penelope had saved her.
And the moment Penelope appeared again in front of her tear-streaked, guilt-ridden self, Lillia made a vow from her heart.
Just as Penelope Lloyd had protected her, she would protect Penelope Lloyd.
Later That Evening
Night had fallen outside the window by the time I woke up. I must’ve passed out again, only to be roused by Lillia knocking softly at the door.
“My Lady, would you like some dinner?”
As always, she knocked several times a day—morning, noon, and night—offering to eat with me. If I refused, she’d leave a bowl of soup she’d made herself.
“No. I’m full from the soup.”
“Oh, you had it already? Did you like the taste?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
I leaned against the desk blocking the door, answering quietly.
…Zombies.
Even though I’d become one, I could still think. I could even move if I forced myself to. I reacted to the smell of blood, but I thought I could suppress it.
I thought I could.
But I was wrong. Instinct wasn’t something I could control.
If Lillia hadn’t closed that door this morning, I might’ve bitten her right then. I could’ve lunged at her, making that same horrible noise the zombies outside made.
The impulse was overwhelming.
Worse, once my senses sharpened, even the faintest trace of blood stirred me.
When I opened the door to take the soup she’d left, I caught the slightest scent of blood in the corridor—and my body reacted.
…Was it because my zombie instincts had grown stronger?
I was afraid to open the door again. I didn’t want to smell blood anymore.
Losing control of my body was a horror I never wanted to feel again. And afterward, I was left exhausted—completely drained.
Whether it was mental fatigue from suppressing the instinct or some strange aftereffect of blood arousal, I didn’t know. I’d fallen asleep while pushing the desk against the door—standing up, just like those zombies in the forest.
At least I still woke up at the slightest sound. That was some small comfort.
“My Lady… are you really okay?”
Lillia’s cautious voice came again from outside. I’d thought she’d left long ago, but she was still there.
“Yes. Don’t worry.”
Another long silence followed. But her footsteps didn’t fade away. She was still standing there.
“…But, My Lady,” she finally said after a long pause. “Why did you tell His Highness… that it was my blood?”
