They sat across from each other at the dinner table, the dim light from the chandelier casting a soft glow over the room.
The table was modest, with a simple white tablecloth and a centerpiece of wilting roses.
The faint clinking of silverware on ceramic plates was the only sound, except for the heavy tension hanging between them.
A staring contest was held between them, and Reg was most definitely winning.
"Who are you, or what are you really?" she blurted out suddenly, her voice breaking the silence.
He chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "Isn't it the other way around, though?" he asked, cocking his head to the side, his sharp gaze pinning her in place.
He was dressed in a simple white long-sleeve polo shirt and cargo pants.
His golden hair was immaculately brushed, every strand in place, and his features were too damn perfect for a high school student.
Her subconscious screamed under his piercing gaze, making her squirm. "It's like you're a different person," she muttered, noticing the faint smile that played on his lips.
He smiled softly, his eyes gleaming with amusement.
She shifted in her seat, clearing her throat. "How so?"
"Less confident, timid, self-conscious," he replied, his words sharp like the knife that had been pressed to her ribs earlier.
Her shoulders stiffened, and her gaze dropped to the table. "Why didn't you kill me?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
"Because you're something… different," he said hoarsely, his tone serious. "You're not a mindless killer like those beings."
She stared at him, her confusion evident. "Those beings?..."
His pause was deliberate, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her breath hitch. Finally, he said the word that sent chills down her spine: "Zombies."
The word hit her like lightning, and she gaped at him for a moment before bursting into laughter. "You think I'm a zombie?" she erupted, the sound of her laughter echoing in the quiet room.
He nodded, his expression unwavering. "Yes, I do," he said seriously, his tone making her laughter die in her throat.
She shivered, her fingers nervously tracing the edge of her plate. "Look, I've watched, read, collected, and followed every novel, series, article, and history about zombies, and I can tell you, zombies can't maintain human intelligence," she explained, her voice laced with disbelief.
He nodded, his gaze unwavering. "Exactly. Which is why you are the first."
She scoffed, shaking her head. "I'm no zombie. I'm human," she denied vehemently, the idea clawing at her mind. She loved zombies, but never, never, had she wished to become one.
"What do you want from me?" she demanded, her voice trembling with frustration and fear.
"I told you. You're under observation. If you can go without feeding on human brains for the whole night, you will regain your freedom. But if you fail..."
He placed a rifle on the table between them, the cold, metallic object gleaming ominously under the light.
"You die immediately."