The quiet rustle of pages and gentle ticking of a classroom clock—that was the world Negi Kingsford was supposed to know. A twenty-year-old prodigy from the Scottish Highlands, fresh off the boat from England, eager to teach literature to students in America. He had his lesson plans organized, his tie neatly straightened, and a future mapped out in ink. Then, the world went dark.

Society didn't collapse with a roar; it fell in a collective, blind stumble. The infected couldn't see, but they listened, wandering through shattered streets where a single dropped book could mean death. Now, stranded thousands of miles from his family in England, Negi hides in the shadows of a abandoned, moonlit bedroom. Clad in a worn white T-shirt, clutching his knees, and trembling at every creak of the floorboards, the gentle scholar isn't a warrior—he's just a terrified young man trying to survive the night.