The quiet in the library grew heavier with each hour.
Dust drifted through sunbeams filtering in from the cracked stained glass above. The silence wasn't peaceful—it was tense, suffocating. The infected hadn't found them yet, but their presence haunted the school. Every groan from the upper halls, every footstep echoing in distant corridors, sent a chill down the girls' spines.
They hadn't eaten in over a day. The water they'd carried from the dorms was nearly gone.
And no one wanted to say it—but the thought was there. The question eating at them from the inside.
What happened to our families?
Seraphina sat curled up beneath a window, her knees hugged to her chest. "My father… he's probably gone, isn't he?" Her voice cracked. "He would've sent a car. He always does. He always—he always comes when I call…"
No one had an answer.
Monika leaned against Katharina, her eyes vacant. "Mom always used to say the government would protect us. That something like this could never happen here." She paused. "What if it happened everywhere?"
Henriette clenched her jaw, staring at the floor. "We can't think like that. Not yet."
"But it's been days," Jocelyn whispered. "No messages. No signal. No one's come for us. They probably don't even know we're still alive."
"I… I want my mom," one of the unnamed survivors sobbed into her hands.
Even Katharina, always composed, felt her throat tighten. Her mind flicked to images of their home in Stuttgart—of her mother's stern voice, her father's quiet nods, the creaking of the stairs at night. Would she ever hear those sounds again?
She didn't cry. But the ache in her chest spread like frostbite.
They sat together in quiet grief. A circle of girls on the edge of collapse.
And then—
A sound.
A door creaked open from the far end of the library. Not the one they'd entered through.
All of them froze.
Footsteps—cautious, deliberate, slow.
Henriette jumped to her feet, weapon raised.
Katharina tensed, heart racing.
Another step.
Then a voice.
Low. Familiar. Breathless.
"…Katharina?"
It was barely audible. Almost uncertain. But it stopped them cold.
Katharina stood slowly. "Wait… That voice—"
The door opened wider.
And through the crack, stepped a girl with short, sweat-matted hair, wrapped in a torn gym jacket. Her hands were scraped raw, one eye bruised. She looked exhausted, almost skeletal. Her lips were chapped. Her knuckles, bloodied.
But her stance was solid. Her eyes—still burning with fire.
Kaede Müller.
"Holy—" Henriette's voice cracked. "Kaede?!"
Monika's hands flew to her mouth.
Kaede looked like a ghost—but she smiled, weakly, her body trembling.
"I thought I heard voices," she muttered. "Took me all night to get down here… bastards were swarming the science wing."
Katharina took a step forward, heart thudding. "You're alive."
Kaede laughed, breathlessly. "Barely."
Henriette rushed forward, grabbing her in a fierce, tear-soaked hug.
"You absolute maniac," she choked. "We thought you died!"
Kaede winced, but hugged her back. "I thought I did too. Got trapped with some underclassmen in the gym. They didn't make it."
Everyone gathered around her, relief pouring in like sunlight after a storm.
Even Elvira's distant expression softened slightly.
"How did you survive?" Jocelyn asked.
Kaede sank against a bookshelf, sliding to the floor. "Luck. Rage. I don't even know. I found a closet with metal bars and stayed there for twelve hours. Ate protein powder from the PE storage."
"You're insane," Monika whispered, tearing up again.
Kaede glanced at them all—each girl huddled together, bruised, scared, but still standing. Her eyes landed on Katharina last.
"You did good," she said. "You kept them alive."
Katharina didn't reply.
But something shifted in her chest. A quiet sense of steadiness. Of not being completely alone anymore.
Kaede was back.
And for the first time in days, it felt like there might still be a way forward.