Chapitre 3: The Undead and Her Captor

Unsteady breathing, a scent that reeks, ripped clothing, and rotten flesh - staring down at Anastasia at that very moment is no human, but a ravening beast.

Thoroughly petrified to the bones, she only returns an affrighted gaze to his ghastly one. While the heavy downpour continues, her erratic heartbeat matches with the hammering sounds of the clamorous weather.

They exchange looks for what seems like a decade as he just sniffs and heaves a breath away. He appears to be scrutinizing her frame with how his grotesque irises dart all around her.

Shoving away her stupefaction, Anastasia then takes this chance to put her knees together and kick him off of her with all the remaining strength that she can muster.

"Don't touch me!" she exclaimed, shutting her eyes close the moment he went flying through the air.

Anastasia didn't expect that he'd go mid-air diving, though. He's probably more of a dillweed than she gave him credits for.

Even then, this flummoxing turn of the table worked best for her since she could finally escape. She then hastily rises on her feet and resumes her only business in that place, which is to scurry away.

"This can't be happening... Why am I here? Just how long did I sleep? Why is everything so messed up?"

This world seems to be a whole lot different from what she can recall. Despite her memory loss, she still remembers how things are supposed to look like, and they're definitely not this hell-themed and death-defying disarray.

At this point, there's not even one reasonable conclusion that she can jump to.

"There you are."

Not even a few meters away from that grisly entity, Anastasia already finds herself halting on her tracks at her previous pursuer's arrival. Perplexed, she then takes a step back as he slowly approaches her.

Now, she can finally make out his distinguished features, and she's quite taken aback upon realizing how insanely good-looking he is. He's wearing a black long-sleeves turtle neck shirt and a pair of white pants with a navy blue garrison belt.

From the depth of his symmetrical jawline and toned muscles to his well-developed physique and endearing facial - she's mesmerized for a second before eventually gathering her bearings.

"What do you want from me?!" Anastasia bolted out, holding her ground and glaring daggers at him.

That's until he draws out a silver pistol all of the sudden. He then aims at her with an austere expression, making her blood run cold.

She stands terrified to the core, her freezing body shuddering as her vision follows the formidable glint glazing the smooth surface of his weapon. At any fraction of a second now, he's about to pull the trigger.

Then eventually came the blaring flare of gunshots.

Screaming, Anastasia cowers behind her fruitless attempt to shield herself with both arms. But then, she froze the instant she realized her unharmed frame.

There isn't any sign of a bullet passing through. That's when she slightly swivelled back around in bewilderment.

There, she finds that horrid creature from earlier, standing right before her with blood oozing out of his head.

"Kyaa...!!!" Anastasia screeched in disconcertment before falling butt-first on the ground.

With eyes as wide as saucers, she only gawks at him as he staggers back and forth before eventually collapsing, his corpse-like body knocked out cold as it bathes both in his pool of blood and the merciless drizzle. She then crawls backward, away from that harrowing sight, until her back hits the wall.

That's when she finds a huge ripple of rainwater right beside her, and only then did she get a clear view of her frame -

Which turns out to be just as ghastly white and as gravelly hideous as the deadman before her.

"H-Huh?"

There's no end to these dreadful surprises, it seems.

Anastasia can't recognize her gruesome look as that of a normal human. She's extremely pale, with a few stitches still visible just around her forehead, and her ocean blue pupils are as good as lifeless.

Her voluminous, curly black hair only dyes her entire figure in doom and gloom - a perfect visual definition of Weltschmerz.

"W-What... W-What am I?" she stammered out, voice low and trembling.

Too confounded by this discovery, Anastasia didn't notice that the gunman is now standing before her, expression inscrutable. He then tries to reach out to her, but she hastily backs away and barely manages to rise on her feet.

She now looks like a shaken bunny being cornered by its predator.

"D-Don't... Don't come near me..."

Perhaps, the reason why he's after her is because she's the same species as the one he just killed. He's probably the only normal living being around here.

But even with that presumption in mind, she can't get herself to move and run away. Her feet are firmly rooted to the ground, completely blown away by the appalling realization that she's his next victim.

"I said don't come near me!"

At that, a strike of lightning suddenly strides down straight to where she's standing, hurling both of them in a monstrous speed.

A deafening explosion ransacked the whole alley and flipped her over after receiving the debilitatingly painful impact. She crashes on a block of debris before feeling her whole body igniting.

But then, no flames are visible. There's no perceptible damage that can describe the tremendous amount of tormenting volts that are running through her veins at the moment.

In fact, Anastasia is still wide awake. She can even see how her pursuer stands up and approaches her once more.

This time, his once enigmatic impassiveness is now replaced with evident worry and aghast shock.

"W-Why? I don't understand anything at all..." she silently thought, half-lidded eyes brimming with an unfathomable emptiness.

"Just who am I...? And who are you?"

Right then, a surge of broken lapses of one particular flashback suddenly rushes in her mind like a treacherous tide, sweeping her over in petrifaction.

There are these obscure faces in white clothing, a laboratory, an inhumane experiment and a test subject that turns out to be her. She recalls her sleepless nights in this high-tech prison, the grueling sounds of unfamiliar machineries, and the unimaginable suffering that her helpless self has undergone.

Despite all these, however, she still can't figure out who she is.

"Please... Please, help me..."

Without realizing it, she suddenly starts begging for some reason before slowly drifting to slumber.

At Anastasia's unconscious state, her pursuer finally reached her. Then, ever so gently, he stretches his hands out to brush her icy cold cheeks with his fingers, making the scowl that's marring his frame even deeper.

For a moment, he just silently stares at her as if admiring a piece of art. He then eventually kneels down and picks her up from the debris, holding her bridal style and preparing to leave.

As he brings Anastasia's body close to his, he tenderly caresses her nose with his own before softly saying, "Let's go back home... Sia."

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