“Eilain!”
“Lady has returned!”
The moment the gate opened, the guards of the fortress and the servants of the lord’s castle rushed forward in a hurry.
They all looked pale and exhausted, as if they hadn’t slept all night, with hollow, sunken eyes.
Knowing how worried they must have been, Eilain offered an apologetic, slightly awkward smile.
“I’m sorry, everyone. I made you worry for nothing.”
“Oh, we thought you wouldn’t be able to return….”
The usually boisterous captain of the guards, with his fierce eyes, was now tearing up. His broad shoulders even shook as if he was about to burst into tears.
Pushing past him, the housekeeper of the lord’s castle, Lady Rose, rushed forward next.
“Oh my, Lady! I was so worried all night… Are you hurt anywhere?”
She hugged Eilain tightly, running her hands over her as if to confirm her safety.
Then she spotted Mary, who was standing nearby with her head bowed and a completely deflated expression.
“Mary, this is all your fault for making Lady suffer like this! Come here.”
Eilain quickly intervened, grabbing Mary’s hand as Housekeeper Rose tried to scold her, and said softly:
“Please, leave it. Mary won’t do something like that again. She saw clearly yesterday what happens when one acts recklessly.”
At Eilain’s words, Rose’s eyes softened.
Though she had been displeased, she also understood why Mary had disobeyed Eilain and left the castle grounds.
The fate of Mary’s father, who had not returned with them, was obvious without needing to be said.
Rose’s stern expression quickly melted into pity and sympathy, and she gently took the girl’s hand.
“You, don’t ever do that again. You must be hungry, let’s go eat first.”
“I-I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”
As Rose led the sobbing Mary away, her expression suddenly stiffened as she looked back at Eilain.
Behind her shoulder, she had noticed Tristan and his group standing with the guards.
“Lady… who are those people…?”
The guards who had escorted Tristan’s party inside were also tense, clearly wary of outsiders for the first time in a long while.
It was the first time since the outbreak of the zombie disaster that living outsiders had been allowed inside the territory.
Ever since Eilain had personally beheaded her older brother—who had returned as a zombie—before all the villagers, anyone who came from outside had been… no longer human.
They were either zombies, rotting and hungry for the flesh and blood of the living, or newly emerged monsters.
At first, people had whispered that Eilain was insane—that she had murdered her own remaining family member to steal the title and wealth.
But those voices gradually disappeared.
After witnessing several people who disobeyed orders leave the territory and return as zombies, they began to believe in her as a savior.
She had always insisted that no one must leave the territory, and that no outsiders should ever be allowed in.
And yet—outsiders had arrived. Living humans.
Eilain herself was more confused than anyone.
She had believed that as long as she did not leave the territory, she would avoid meeting Tristan and therefore avoid death.
But she had never imagined that he would come here himself.
Unspoken declarations she had made over the past three years now echoed in her mind.
She turned awkwardly and said,
“They… are Prince Tristan and his party.”
The moment she spoke, the surroundings erupted into noise.
“Prince Tristan?!”
“He’s already here? Wasn’t he supposed to come later?”
“He’s finally here!”
“Then what about the Saint?”
This was bad. They were speaking loudly right in front of Tristan.
At first, it had been a lie to justify killing her infected brother.
“I received a divine dream. My brother will return infected and the world will soon be overrun by zombies. We must prepare.”
To make it sound more believable, she had mixed her knowledge of the novel’s plot with the idea of prophecy.
Now it was becoming a problem.
When she turned nervously, her eyes met Tristan’s cold gaze, narrowed in suspicion.
How was she supposed to explain this?
Amid the commotion, Eilain raised her voice.
“Everyone, quiet! For now, His Highness will be staying in the castle. Make preparations so he is not inconvenienced.”
The noise immediately subsided, and the servants quickly returned to their duties.
“Prepare the largest guest rooms for His Highness and his party. Also arrange meals.”
After instructing Lady Rose, Eilain quickly headed to her room.
She had no time to think of excuses.
Without a father or heir to take over the title, she was the only one who could host them.
She had to compose herself quickly and meet them properly.
But how was she supposed to explain things so that they would leave peacefully?
Her clothes were soaked with sweat from the night’s chaos.
She quickly changed and washed in cold water without even bothering to call for heated water.
There was no time for comfort.
As she was about to drink tea to warm herself, there was a knock.
Knock knock.
A cautious voice came from butler Johnson.
“Lady… His Highness is requesting to see you. What should we do?”
“…Already?”
A sigh escaped her lips.
Of course. He was not a man who let suspicious matters sit for long.
“Escort him to the reception room. Tell him I will be down after changing clothes.”
Her hand trembled slightly as she held the teacup.
Even after drinking, her thirst did not go away.
***
“It is I who should thank you for allowing us to stay in these troubled times.”
When she entered the reception room, Tristan was already seated, freshly changed into clean attire.
If before he had carried raw, unrefined danger like a blade, now he exuded noble, restrained elegance befitting a prince.
He began politely, without immediately getting to the point.
“I should be the one expressing gratitude,” Eilain replied.
But her mind was already melting under his gaze.
Tristan leaned slightly forward.
“I heard Lord Willus Whitewood passed away last year.”
“My father passed away three months before my brother returned.”
“I see. And after that, you managed the territory?”
“Yes. I sent a request to the Imperial Court regarding succession, but communication was lost after the zombie outbreak.”
Tristan’s eyes sharpened.
“This place… is more like a fortress than a territory. Do people not live outside the castle walls?”
“They were moved inside due to increasing zombie activity.”
“And the bells in the streets?”
“…To distract them during emergencies. They are sensitive to sound.”
“Hm.”
His fingers tapped the table rhythmically.
The sound felt like a countdown.
Then he said,
“I heard something interesting.”
Eilain’s heart tightened.
“That you personally beheaded your brother when he returned as a zombie.”
“I… that was—”
“And that you predicted this entire disaster. That you spoke of zombies and the end of the world before it happened.”
“I, I didn’t—”
“And that you even said I would meet a Saint and save the world.”
“I never said I was the Saint!” she blurted.
Her voice rose in desperation.
“I had a dream, that’s all! A prophetic dream about the world ending!”
Tristan let out a short, disbelieving laugh.
“So you claim divine revelation, yet you also knew how to prepare defenses, and even predicted my actions?”
“I—”
“And where is this Saint now?”
“I don’t know! I was supposed to meet them a year ago!”
Eilain felt cornered.
Tristan leaned back slightly, expression unreadable.
“This place is strange.”
***
Tristan had thought the world had already fallen apart.
But this territory… was different.
Clean homes. Preserved food. Signs of recent daily life.
Even carefully maintained defenses, bells strung through alleyways like nets.
Someone had prepared all of this in advance.
Who?
And how did they know?
As night fell, hundreds of zombies gathered.
From the rooftop, Tristan observed.
“Sir, there are too many—possibly a variant among them.”
“Hide yourselves.”
Below, people ran. Among them—a woman wielding magic without hesitation.
Another woman… strangely unafraid of him, yet clearly wary.
And then he heard it.
“The lady personally killed her brother after he returned as a zombie.”
Tristan narrowed his eyes.
A woman who could foresee disaster. A woman who prepared for war before it came.
And yet…
She insisted she was not the Saint.
Strangely… she interested him.
***
“No. Absolutely not!”
Eilain shouted, shaking her head violently.
Traveling with him? That was a death flag. Absolutely not.
But Tristan was not a man who accepted refusal easily.
“You said I must meet the Saint to save the world.”
“That’s true, but I can’t be involved! I’ll die if I do!”
Tristan’s gaze turned colder.
“And yet you expect me to find the Saint while you remain here?”
“I—!”
He stepped closer.
“Then you will come with me.”
