Regressing Through the Apocalypse with the Third Male Lead
Chapter 12

Chapter 12: Chapter 12

"Florence, you are Florence, right? You’re just as lovable as Nicholas described—soft and gentle, like mushy clouds. I’m Kathleen. Let’s be friends, Florence..."

"Friends... what does that mean?"

"Hmm... Friends are people you have fun with, who always have your back. They comfort you when you’re sad, never betray you, and support you no matter what."

Florence’s thoughts were interrupted by Harley’s voice.

"We’re here. Just ahead is my house," Harley said, staring straight ahead. He tried to put on a brave face, but Freyah and Florence could see his hands trembling.

"Let’s go." Freyah tapped his shoulder before walking ahead. Harley hesitated for a moment, then followed closely behind.

"Let’s perform the soul contract, Your Highness," Florence’s mind lingered while looking at the back of Freyah, then his gaze sweeping across the scenery. Everything was unfamiliar—the structures, the clothing, the strange vehicles. It was all so different from Gaia, his world. The world of the Primrose Lady.

If it was a world that was not in the brink of collapse, he could see that it was a fascinating world on it’s own.

"371... Is this the house?" Freyah asked as she effortlessly drove a knife into the head of a zombie, pinning it to the wall. With a quick flick of her wrist, she swayed off the blood on the blade.

"We need better weapons. Kitchen knives won’t cut it much longer," she muttered, securing the knife in the holder strapped to her back.

Slowly, she pushed the gate open. Inside, two more zombies stumbled around—a woman with a gaping wound in her stomach and an elderly lady muttering under her breath.

"Run... Run... Run..." the old woman repeated in a trembling voice, while the other zombie groaned mindlessly.

Broken vases and scattered plants told the story of the chaos that had unfolded the night before. Freyah swiftly dispatched them both before turning her attention to the main door. She threw two knives in quick succession, embedding them in the zombies’ heads.

She walked forward, retrieved the knives, and strapped them back.

"Stay here. Wait for me," she instructed, stepping inside the house. The interior was in shambles—the TV lay shattered on the floor, glass shards scattered everywhere.

A sudden shuffling noise caught her attention.

Following the sound to the kitchen, she spotted another zombie—a chubby, middle-aged man in a checkered green polo.

"It’s not my fault... It’s not my fault..." the zombie murmured repeatedly.

As soon as it locked eyes with Freyah, it shrieked, "It’s not my fault!"

Without hesitation, Freyah hurled her knife, embedding it deep into the zombie’s skull. As its body collapsed to the floor, she retrieved her weapon and continued checking the remaining rooms.

When she reached the last one, she hesitated briefly before stepping back outside.

"My aunt! Did you find her?" Harley rushed toward her, desperation clear in his voice.

Freyah shook her head. "Aside from the zombie I killed, the house is empty. There’s no sign of your aunt anywhere."

At her words, Harley ran past her into the house. Freyah reflected for a moment—they were never sure if the aunt had been in the house when they made the call.

She watched the boy rush inside and muttered, "You’ll get used to scenes like this."

Florence remained silent, his expression unreadable. "Don’t worry. I’ve seen worse," he replied before following Harley. "But that child... he’s going through one of his worst moments. The least we can do is be there for him."

Freyah remained silent, watching them disappear through the doorway. She turned away, scanning the surroundings.

"Be there for him..." she murmured. "That’s why you died at the guillotine. And those who were left behind..."

Distant voices echoed in her mind.

"Kill me now!"

"I don’t want to be a monster!"

"No... No... This can’t be. Don’t die..."

"I don’t want to die, but I don’t want to be a monster either."

"I’m sorry... I can’t be there with you at the very end..."

Freyah exhaled slowly, the weight of her memories pressing down on her. She massaged her temples as they throbbed with pain.

"Seeing the worst, huh? Fair enough. Fighting demons devouring entire villages... Greedy aristocrats willing to do anything for power..." Her eyes darkened. "Maybe I’ve just grown cold. But I wonder... will you hold onto that kindness after living in the same hell I have for so long?"

"You’re coming with us, miss." A man’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

Freyah froze, the familiar sensation of a gun pressing against her head sending a wave of tension through her. Slowly, she raised both hands.

"Oh really?"

"What if I don’t want to?"

"You don’t have a choice if you still want to live."

"Too bad. I don’t want to live anymore."

She turned around, her movements slow and deliberate, until the gun was pointed at her forehead. "Kill me now," she said coldly, gripping the gun with both hands.

The man, wearing a blue police uniform, was tall and muscular, around 6’5. He faltered under her unflinching gaze.

"Pull the trigger," Freyah commanded, her voice dead and her glowing red eyes locking onto his.

"Stop..." the man stammered, his hand trembling as he tried to pull away.

But Freyah’s grip was too strong. Slowly, she guided his finger toward the trigger.

"Stop! Stop!"

"Bang!" Freyah said.

The man collapsed to the ground, his legs giving out from under him. Freyah now held the gun, her expression unreadable.

"It’s still the second day... Of course, the anchor to morality is still strong." Freyah examined the weapon in her hand.

"A Beretta 92 GTS. Nice gun you’ve got here. The latest model of the series." She checked the remaining bullets. Fully loaded. She tucked the gun into the back of her waistband.

"But you see, no one I’ve requested so far has managed to pull the trigger. And most of them end up losing their guns to me—just like you."

Her eyes narrowed as she raised a knife and plunged it into the man’s shoulder. "Let me teach you as well how to threaten someone properly."

"Ahh!" The man screamed in pain.

"Reveal yourselves," she ordered, her gaze shifting upward.

A woman emerged from the backyard, and another man appeared from the rooftop—a sniper. Both wore the same blue police uniform.

Freyah smirked as she activated her skill. "Teleportation, huh? Now that’s interesting."