When Kindness Kills

A Familiar Trick

"I'm not going! There are mutated zombies in there—I'd die!" Eliza shrieked as she flung the man's hand away, darted behind me, and clutched my clothes like a lifeline.

A trace of mockery curved at the corner of my mouth. "Weren't you just talking about helping each other? Now that someone's asking you to step up, you don't want to anymore?"

"I-I…" Eliza's face flushed a deep, ugly red. Tears brimmed in her eyes, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't force out another word.

Everyone had figured it out by then. Handing over a detonator meant all of us would die—unless someone went into that forbidden death zone to fetch a new one. Eliza had been generous with her words, tossing out other people's lives with a flick of her tongue.

But the moment it was her turn to risk herself, she shrank back. Lavish with what didn't belong to her—nothing more.

Seeing the tide turn against him, the man on his knees immediately switched tactics. Wearing a pitiful expression, he crawled toward Eliza. "Miss, if you can't give us one, can you… Can you take us with you? My child and I can work! We'll do anything. Please don't leave us behind!"

I narrowed my eyes at him.

In my previous life, he'd grabbed the detonator and run. In this one, failing to get it, he wanted to worm his way in instead. He was clearly no good.

"Sorry," I replied coolly. "We don't have spare supplies to share. You should go check the subway station yourself."

The man stiffened, then spat viciously under my stare. "You bunch of heartless swines! I'll remember this!" He shot me a venomous look, then turned and vanished into the shadows of the ruins.

There was no time to waste on him. I installed the detonators while barking orders. "Fire in the hole! Fall back now—or die!"

'Boom!'

Rubble exploded outward, dust and debris filling the air.

"It's open! Let's move, Captain!"

Cheers erupted as the team piled into the vehicles, scrambling to leave. Once I was inside, I pulled an old military communicator from my bag. If I could fix it, we could contact the rear base and claw our way back from the brink of death.

But in my previous life, the moment I'd opened the device, Eliza had walked over holding a cup of water. She'd said I looked exhausted and urged me to drink.

Then, the vehicle jolted—and the entire cup splashed straight onto the exposed circuit board. Sparks crackled, and the communicator was ruined beyond repair.

She'd cried her eyes out afterward, swearing it hadn't been intentional, that she'd only wanted to look out for me. Everyone had comforted her, saying it was fine, that there would be another way.

That "way" had been leaving the convoy to search for an abandoned relay tower.

In the name of finding rescue, I'd taken only minimal supplies—only to be framed by Eliza for trying to steal resources and flee. I'd been thrown out of the base and left to rot alive under radiation.

This time, I wasn't letting her succeed.

Sure enough, just as I removed the back casing, I caught sight of Eliza approaching with an enamel mug in her hands, her face full of guilt.

"Iris, have some water." Her voice was soft and fragile, her eyes still red. "What happened earlier was my fault. I shouldn't have tried to make you give away the detonator—I almost got everyone killed. I was just… too soft-hearted. Don't be mad at me, okay?"

As she spoke, she bent down and extended the cup toward me. The angle was carefully chosen—dangerously so. One tiny jolt, and the water would pour straight onto the exposed circuitry.

I kept my expression neutral, pretending to focus on the wiring in my hands. "No, thanks—I'm not thirsty."

"Just one sip," she pressed gently. "I made it especially for you. If you don't drink it, I'll feel awful—ah!"

The jolt came right on cue, and water arced forward, splashing straight toward the communicator.