He had no time to think.
The infected lunged.
Fefe twisted aside too late. Something burned as claws scraped across his arm, heat flaring through his skin. He bit down hard, forcing the scream back into his throat.
"Gghh…"
He pressed a hand over the wound, teeth clenched. Making noise here was a death sentence.
The infected hit the ground where he had been standing, snarling in frustration.
Why can't anything ever go my way? Fefe thought wildly. I just want to get out of here.
The thought barely finished forming—
—and the world dropped out from under him.
Fefe stumbled forward, air rushing past him as the alley vanished. He hit the floor hard, rolling across worn wooden boards.
Silence.
No screams. No sirens.
Just the quiet creak of an empty house.
Fefe lay there for a moment, chest heaving, staring up at a cracked ceiling that definitely hadn't been there before.
"…What?"
He pushed himself up slowly, every movement cautious. The room was small and abandoned, furniture overturned, dust thick in the air. Civilian housing.
I escaped, he realized.
His heart slowed just enough for thought to creep in.
It didn't trigger when I was in danger, he thought. It triggered when I wanted to leave.
That realization unsettled him.
He stood there longer than he should have, half-expecting the world to snap back and throw him into the alley again.
It didn't.
Fefe exhaled and rubbed his arm, wincing.
"I can't rely on that," he muttered.
If the door didn't open when he needed it, but only when he gave up, then it wasn't something he could trust.
Still… it had saved him.
He shook his head and forced himself to move.
If infected were nearby, this place wouldn't stay safe for long.
Fefe began searching the house, opening drawers and cabinets, looking for one of the standard civilian-issued weapons.
As he moved, one thought lingered in the back of his mind.
This ability is terrifying.
And worse-
It feels perfect for me.
He pulled open a drawer beneath the counter. Inside lay a folded metal fan, its surface scratched and dull. Civilian-issued. He sighed in relief.
"Figures," Fefe muttered. "Something I don't have to swing."
Fefe decided to sit and wait for the knights to kill the infected.
Then, as if the universe was mocking him, a crash broke down the door...
It was a knight, the knight with their long black hair, looked at him. Fefe hoped the door would open up again, but he fell on his butt; the door had opened right above him.
What the hell wasn't this skill supposed to help him
Fefe mentally noted that this skill was extremely unreliable.
She said, "Since you have a weapon and you're a Corresponder, go out and help."
"I am good," Fefe said, trying not to waste energy talking.
The female knight grabbed Fefe and started dragging him to the door. Fefe didn't resist; he knew it would only result in using energy.