That night, everyone drifted into a restless, heavy sleep. The air in the warehouse was thick with unspoken tension, as if the darkness itself was pressing down on their lungs. Outside, the occasional groan or shuffle of an undead body dragging itself along the street kept them from ever truly resting.
Yunfeng lay awake, eyes tracing the rusted beams of the ceiling above him. He turned his head slightly to look at Jai, who had curled up beside him. The boy's chest rose and fell slowly, finally at peace, if only for a few hours.
Then he looked the other way—Muchen was beside him, already awake, staring quietly into the dim space.
"It's my fault he's here…" Yunfeng murmured, voice barely above a whisper. "If I hadn't told him anything, if I'd just kept quiet… Jai wouldn't have followed. And now because he's here, his grandfather will come too."
His voice cracked slightly at the end. The weight of guilt sat heavy on his chest, like hands pushing him into the ground.
