CHAPTER 30: THE HOSPITAL OF THE DEAD

Cassel — POV

Rosalia only smiled faintly.

And something in that small, strained smile made my stomach tighten. There was something off about it. She wasn’t really smiling; she was masking something—her thoughts, her fear, or maybe her distrust.

Probably because of Barney.

The look she gave him earlier wasn’t good.

Her tone, her subtle tension—it all screamed unease.

Even Henry, the one she clashed with at every opportunity, she treated as an ally. But Barney... no. Her eyes told me she didn’t trust him. And she was right not to.

Could it be that she knows he isn’t as good as he pretends to be?

Rosalia... ah, Rosalia.

How much do you really know?

We circled the crumbling building until we reached the back gate. It was smaller, rusted, and the paint was peeling in flakes of dull gray. The main gate had been massive, barricaded with steel and corpses, but this one—by some miracle—was open.

A quiet blessing in a world that had long forgotten mercy.

Several zombies shuffled nearby, their eyes lifeless, movements sluggish. Their rotting flesh clung to bone like wet paper. Yet, they didn’t turn toward us. Rosalia’s power held strong—an invisible shroud cloaking us from their senses.

Even so, we moved slowly, our hands linked together in a long human chain. Every step had to be measured, every breath controlled. The air itself felt heavy, like it might shatter if we breathed too loudly.

Our pace was agonizingly slow.

And then, as we stepped through the gate, I saw it.

The hospital loomed ahead like a tomb. Its once-sterile white walls were painted with decay and blood. Windows shattered, doors hanging by a hinge, and inside... movement.

Dozens—no, hundreds—of them.

Zombies in tattered white coats, nurses and doctors frozen in an eternal loop of hunger and rot. Others wore regular clothes—patients, perhaps. Bandages stained brown with dried blood wrapped around their heads, arms, or missing limbs.

I’d seen death before. But this? This was suffocating.

"Move carefully from now on," I whispered. "Remember—Rosalia’s power hides us from their senses, yes, but one accidental touch could still kill you."

"Don’t worry, boss," Frederick said, puffing his chest out. "Dodging slow zombies is easy when they’re not lunging for your throat."

Henry nodded beside him, his usual smirk tempered with rare seriousness.

I turned to Rosalia.

"...Rosalia."

"Hmm? Yes, what is it?" she answered softly.

"Did you hear what I said just now?"

She blinked, her cheeks coloring faintly. That awkward, hesitant smile she gave me almost made me forget where we were. She looked so damn innocent. So unaware of how dangerous that innocence could be.

I frowned, my tone turning cold. "Whatever’s going through your head, save it for later. Stay focused on the mission."

"Sorry, boss. Don’t worry, boss," she murmured, her voice small. Then she straightened up, repeating in a louder, steadier tone, "You said we must stay cautious and not get overconfident just because the zombies aren’t attacking—because danger still exists."

She looked at me again—those eyes.

Bright, expectant. Like she was waiting for me to praise her. Maybe even pat her head.

But that wasn’t what I wanted. Not anymore.

No... what I wanted was far darker.

I wanted to see her cry again—for me.

To hear her voice tremble when she called my name.

To remind her who really had power over her emotions.

I wanted—

"Cae?"

Her voice snapped me out of it.

"...Nothing," I said shortly. "Good work. Let’s go gather the supplies."

We moved deeper into the hospital. The halls were lined with corpses, some fresh, others little more than bones. Every sound echoed—the creak of our boots, the faint dripping of water somewhere in the dark.

Finally, after what felt like hours, we found the storage room.

It was empty. Blessedly empty. No groans, no movement. Just the faint smell of disinfectant is fighting a losing battle against the rot outside.

We slipped in and locked the door. For the first time in hours, we released each other’s hands. Frederick sighed in relief, flexing his fingers.

But me... I felt something else. A strange sense of loss.

It wasn’t that I wanted to keep holding her hand all day.

But the warmth that lingered on my skin—it left a mark deeper than I wanted to admit.

"Wow, holy crap, boss—look at all these meds!" Frederick’s voice shattered the silence.

"Cold medicine, fever reducers, asthma inhalers, painkillers, antibiotics..." Henry listed off each label, his grin wide. "Boss, we hit the jackpot. Dr. Mark’s gonna lose his mind when he sees this. Oh—and remember Robin’s adopted daughter? The one with asthma? We’ll take all these boxes back."

Rosalia smiled too. For a second, her joy softened the room. But it didn’t last. Her expression faltered, replaced by a worried frown.

"Cae," she said quietly, "how are we going to carry all this? Even if we fill every backpack, we’d still need multiple trips. There’s another storage room next door. At this rate, we’ll be here for two days straight."

So that’s what she was worried about.

A soft chuckle escaped me. Silly girl. Still thinking within limits that don’t apply to me.

It seems she doesn’t know everything yet.

Otherwise, she’d already understand what I’m capable of.

"It’s fine," I said quietly. "Go sit over there for a bit."

She hesitated, but obeyed, moving to a corner and sitting down on a broken stool. The others—Frederick, Henry, and Alex—stood aside, watching me curiously.

I took a slow breath. The pendant around my neck pulsed faintly, a gentle warmth spreading across my chest. My fingers brushed against it. Then, with my other hand, I touched the nearest stack of supply boxes.

The moment my skin met the surface, the air trembled.

A faint hum rippled through the room.

And then—light.

In the next instant, everything my fingers touched vanished into thin air.

Gone.

The room that had been filled to the brim with medical supplies now stood half-empty, the air thick with stunned silence.

Henry’s eyes widened. Frederick let out a low whistle. Rosalia’s mouth parted slightly in awe.

I looked at them, at her—and let a small smirk tug at my lips.

She really had no idea what kind of man I was.

And maybe... that was for the best.