𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃

41. The Beginning Of The End pt. 2

The plan is a fragile masterpiece, each step choreographed with surgical precision. Two days ago, Xavier—my poor reluctant pawn in this game—filed a report accusing the company of malpractice, setting the stage for today’s chaos. Soon, the lab will be swarmed by investigators, the air thick with tension as officials demand answers and employees scramble to comply. Amidst this turmoil, Xavier will make his move.

His access to the lab is limited, but just enough to execute the plan. Under the guise of relocating “sensitive materials” for safety, he will smuggle the virus samples out of the facility. The vials, encased in secure containment units, will be camouflaged as ordinary lab waste. My team, stationed at a carefully chosen intercept point, will retrieve them and neutralize the virus once and for all.

But dismantling the virus is only half the battle. The company must also be dismantled, its reputation obliterated beyond recovery. Xavier’s second task is to plant meticulously forged evidence: falsified invoices implicating the company in sourcing substandard materials, lab reports “proving” the release of unsafe medications, and fabricated emails between executives that expose reckless cost-cutting measures and a blatant disregard for public safety. By the time the investigation concludes, the company’s name will be synonymous with scandal, its credibility reduced to ashes.

Of course, none of this guarantees success. Wilde is the unpredictable variable in my carefully crafted equation. He wasn’t always the ruthless villain poised to annihilate the world. Once, in another timeline, he was a man drowning in grief and anger. His mother, a cold and manipulative woman who never truly cared for him, was killed in a car accident orchestrated by his father—a calculated act of revenge in their endless power struggle. Despite her indifference, Wilde harbored a strange, twisted sense of love for her, perhaps born out of longing for the affection he never received. Around the same time, Wilde fell for Sara, the female lead, who rejected him with what she believed was kindness. That rejection, coupled with the loss of the only person he begrudgingly called family, shattered the remnants of his humanity. Consumed by anguish and despair, he unleashed the zombie virus as a final, defiant act against a world that had only ever betrayed him.

But I refuse to let history repeat itself. This time, I’ve taken every precaution to rewrite the script. Sara and her love interest must remain far from Wilde’s orbit. If he so much as glimpses her, it could reignite old wounds and drag him back into the shadows. I’ve also placed safeguards around his mother, ensuring her safety at all costs. As long as she lives and Sara stays out of his life, there’s a chance—however fragile—that Wilde can hold onto the fragments of his sanity.

Yet, even with all these measures in place, the clock is merciless. In five days, the anniversary of the original Faye’s death will arrive—the body I now inhabit. And if transmigration novels have taught me anything, it’s that the universe loves symmetry. Those who enter a new world almost always meet their end on the same day their host was destined to die.

I’ve prepared as much as humanly possible. The virus must be destroyed, the company dismantled, and Wilde kept stable—all within these five days. After that, I will no longer exist in this world. How or where I’ll end up next is a question for another day.

But even as I steel myself for what’s to come, a quiet ache gnaws at my resolve. It’s Wilde—his presence, his intensity, the way the air shifts when he’s near. I’ve spent the past few days in his apartment, living in his shadow, and it’s impossible to ignore the gravitational pull he exerts on me. His every glance is weighted, deliberate, as though he sees through my defenses and reads the thoughts I dare not voice. His voice, low and edged with an unspoken challenge, lingers in the corners of my mind long after he’s gone silent.

And then there’s the way he moves—controlled yet dangerous, a coiled force waiting to strike. He’s a storm in human form, devastatingly beautiful but equally lethal. I tell myself I’m immune to him, that attachment is a luxury I cannot afford, yet my resolve weakens with each passing moment in his presence.

It’s foolish, reckless even, to entertain the thought of staying. I know this. My survival depends on keeping my guard up, on remaining detached and focused. And yet, every time his gaze lingers a second too long, every time his voice drops into that dangerously soft tone, I feel myself unraveling.

I can’t let this happen. I must not let this happen. My only goal is to complete the mission and escape this world intact. Anything more is a risk I cannot afford. And yet, as the hours slip away and the deadline looms closer, I find myself wondering if my heart is as impervious as I’ve convinced myself it is.

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A/N: These chapters were kind of harder to write, especially because my writing style is undergoing massive changes everyday along with my mental health (for the better) and because I'm a romance author through and through, adventurous chapters will need a little bit more practice. Thank you for reading!