Still, Seojun knew he couldn’t stay here forever, staring blankly like a dazed idiot. That awareness alone was enough to to make him move his dead tired body. His mental and physical stamina were already scraping the bottom of the barrel, but sitting there wasn’t going to make anything better.
The light was so bright it took the room with it. The walls and ceiling vanished, replaced by an endless expanse of white. Seojun lay somewhere beneath it, panicking, convinced the searing brightness was burning his eyes right out of their sockets.
"Gyaah!"
Whatever came out of him was nothing like the noises heroes make. Just a strangled, shrill yelp that scraped up the back of his throat. Seojun threw his weight onto his left heel and twisted hard at the waist, spinning away. The blades swept past his collar close enough to stir the fabric.
Seojun grimaced as the words left his mouth. He hated being the one to say things like that. Why was it that staying alive meant gambling the very life you were trying to keep?
With just a glance, Seojun could already see the cracks forming in his new "unbreakable friendship", thanks to Johan. The guy’s casual, almost effortless way of sabotaging things was starting to feel deliberate. With a quiet sigh, Seojun looked away.
Luciel's jet-black eyebrows gave a small twitch as she settled comfortably against Brown's shoulder. She tilted her chin up just slightly, her voice slipping into something measured and composed.
After Johan's pointed remark, Kira rubbed her sore wrist and turned her attention to Seojun. He took a moment to size her up right back. He'd heard the name Kira plenty of times, but this was the first time they'd actually met.
Look, Seojun wasn't going to stand here and pretend he was some kind of hero ready to throw himself into danger for a bunch of strangers. He had his own skin to worry about, and frankly, Johan’s plan to just brute-force the front entrance open was incredibly tempting.
The keycard reeked. So bad, in fact, that Seojun found himself hesitating to touch it even through his gloves. But he really didn't have much of a choice here. He gingerly pinched one corner between his thumb and forefinger, sliding it into the reader by the door to the third-floor stairwell.
The plan, if you could even call it that, was laughably simple.
Step one: Drag Pete into a room.
Step two: Slam the door shut.
Step three: Barricade with the sofa.
Pete moved like nothing human. He scuttled forward on all fours with a chilling, insectile grace that was extremely menacing! Somehow, this was worse than the earlier shambling—the awkward, top-heavy teetering on mismatched limbs.
Seojun let out a heavy sigh as the weight of their predicament settled over him.
Now what do I do?
Admittedly, Samantha probably wasn't in the best condition after going down to the basement. Though calling it "going down" was generous. She'd essentially plummeted straight down the elevator shaft.