Thinking this over, I grabbed the gun in a hurry. Recalling how people unloaded bullets in movies, I gripped the chamber and yanked it back!

*Click…*

My hand slipped. A dark line crept across my forehead.

Handling a gun for the first time, I had zero sense of force—and the bolt was tighter than I’d expected.

Second try. I clenched the gun tight and pulled hard!

*Crack!*

A sharp snap echoed. A bullet dropped straight onto my chest. Lying in bed to conserve energy, I felt it land just below my collarbone.

I glanced down. The icy bullet slid right down my collar!

The gleaming brass cartridge rolled across my chest, bounced playfully once, then settled near my navel.

*Hssss—*

The chill made me gasp. Every hair on my body stood on end.

I snatched up the pesky bullet. Unbidden, a thought flashed in my mind—and slipped out my mouth before I could stop it:

"Bullet-kun! Are you an alien or something?"

A breeze drifted by. The silence turned painfully awkward…

Even alone, the embarrassment burned. Seriously!

Well. Blame gravity. Just a simple physics problem.

*"Calculating bullet drop time…"*

I muttered it as a joke, but it wasn’t funny at all. I just rolled the bullet between my fingers, my thoughts drifting to my unfinished novel.

What would my readers say?

How many tears had my editor cried?

*"These people…"* I gazed out the window. The moon still shone bright. Stars glittered in the sky.

*"How many will actually survive?"*

I whispered, closed my eyes, and placed the pistol beside my pillow. Clutching a golden bullet, I drifted to sleep.

Birdsong chirped outside the window when I finally woke. Instinctively, I reached for my phone on the pillow—then froze at the icy touch in my palm. I jolted upright, shaking off the drowsiness!

At the same moment, a low growl echoed from beyond the door. My whole body tensed!

*My phone!*

The ringtone still blared. I spotted it on the nightstand, snatched it up, and stabbed the power button. Then I dropped flat onto the floor!

*Plop… plop… plop…*

Strange footsteps approached the door—like bare, wet feet slapping on tiles.

Holding my breath, I hid under the bed. No idea what lurked outside. My hand groped toward the pillow, grabbing the pistol and magazine.

I slid the magazine into the grip. A soft *click* confirmed it locked in place. Then I remembered—the extra bullet! The playful one I’d held last night!

No time to search now. Those footsteps had stopped right outside the door.

I didn’t dare move. Lying prone, I stared at the small window above the door…

*Something was there.*

I held my breath, eyes locked on that tiny pane.

*Hah… hah… hah…*

Heavy, ragged breathing came from the other side. Fear clawed at my throat.

I kept staring at that window until…

*Plop… plop… plop…*

The footsteps faded away. I sagged against the floor, limp with relief. Trapped on this high floor with no escape, if a zombie had burst in, I’d have had to shoot—and gunfire might rouse every zombie in the building.

Or worse… things that weren’t zombies.

I shook my head hard, banishing the thought. Slowly, I crawled up.

Even after it left, I moved silently. Who knew how sharp its hearing was?

Standing up, my first action was…

*Resetting the alarm!*

Only after silencing every alarm did I exhale deeply and collapse onto the bed.

*"Oof—"* I yelped, pulling a bullet from under my hip. Dark lines spread across my forehead again as I glared at the golden cartridge.

"So… you weren’t *trying* to cop a feel, were you??"

The words left my mouth—and a chill shot through me.

*I’d just referred to myself like a woman.*

How terrifying was that? I didn’t know. But a strange emptiness settled in my chest.

Sighing, I tucked the bullet into my backpack. For some reason, I didn’t load it into the magazine.

After repacking, I rummaged through the wardrobe. To my shock, it held women’s clothes.

Gritting my teeth, I hesitated—then decided to change. My hospital gown had no pockets. At least these clothes had pockets for my phone.

I stripped quickly and looked down.

"Holy crap… this is a *devilish* figure!"

I froze. Wait—was I just… flirting with myself?

Yeah. I totally was.

Mortified, I lost interest in staring. Inside the wardrobe were several items—even clean underwear. The bra was too small, but the panties fit. Most importantly, everything was *new*.

Someone must have claimed this room. Or maybe a nurse stored her clothes here.

Grateful for the clean outfit, I pulled on the jeans. Tight around the hips, short in the legs—but wearable. The sleeveless top fit loosely except across the chest.

But… those two little bumps under the fabric troubled me.

No one could see me, yet it felt weird. I shrugged the hospital gown back on over it—looking ridiculous, but at least hiding them.

*Seriously though… am I a D or E cup?*

*Ahem.*

Dressed, I discarded the old backpack. I picked up the shattered Zippo from the floor, stuffed my phone and cigarettes into my pockets. The keys? I tucked them deep inside—no jingling metal while running.

A pair of sneakers waited inside the wardrobe. They fit perfectly. I noted the size on the sole of the other shoe, then slipped them on without guilt.

In the Apocalypse… did "stealing" even mean anything anymore?

If it did, I’d welcome the person who enforced it. Right now, I’d give anything to see *one* living soul. To know I wasn’t alone.

I knew loneliness. But before, I could chat with neighbors or shopkeepers. Now? Not a single human in sight.

The thought terrified me—terrified me that I might be the last one left.

*Focus.* That wasn’t the priority now.

I tightened the shoelaces, then racked the pistol.

*Crack!*

The chamber loaded. The gun’s weight steadied my nerves.

I stared at the door, crusted with blackened blood. My hand hovered over the knob.

Silence. An eerie, suffocating quiet—as if I’d slipped into another world.

Maybe… I already had.

Even if survivors existed out there, would they follow old rules?

*Impossible.*

The world had shattered. Society’s fragile order had collapsed with it.

I glanced down—and facepalmed.

*Could I even see my own feet?*

*Not the time.*

I crouched, peering through yesterday’s bullet hole. Dim light seeped in—enough to see shapes, unlike the pitch-black night.

Back to the point…

With no rules left, peaceful people might unleash unimaginable darkness. All those hidden evils society once restrained—would they explode now?

The answer was obvious. *Yes.*

And the root of human evil? Desire.

*"Humans are born selfish."* A universal truth. Even infants prove it. Imagine a mother with three hungry babies and not enough milk. The strongest two will feed. The weakest fades. Always.

Put one meal before three starving people. One eats full. One gets scraps. The last gets nothing.

In this resource-starved Apocalypse, that darkness would magnify a thousandfold.

As a novelist, I’d studied human nature for stories. And desire? It took many forms…

Some craved wealth. Some fame. Some… flesh.