Chapter 3: The First Deviation

Gift’s POV

I took a deep breath, resting my palm against my chest to steady my racing heart. The heavy knocking rattled the frame one last time before I stepped forward, slowly unlocking the latch and pulling the front door open.

Mich stood in the doorway, tall and broad-shouldered, wearing his dark police uniform. His face was flushed, his dark hair slightly messy, and his brow was furrowed with deep concern. 

Seeing him standing right in front of me—so real, so vibrant, and so full of life—made my breath catch in my throat. It was one thing to see his picture on a shelf; it was another to feel the intense, protective presence of a man who had known the original owner of this body for years.

"Gift!" he breathed out, stepping into the entryway immediately. He reached out as if to grab my shoulders, but paused halfway, his eyes narrowing as he took in my face. "Why didn't you answer your phone? I called you four times. Do you have any idea how worried I was?"

"I... I'm sorry," I said, my voice coming out smaller and far more hesitant than I intended. I took a subtle step backward, tucking my hands behind my back so he wouldn't see them trembling. "I was just... busy."

Mich frowned, stepping further into the living room and looking at me intently. The way he looked at me made my skin prickle. It was a sharp, searching gaze, like he was trying to read a language he had known his whole life, only to find the words suddenly changed.

"Busy?" he repeated, his tone shifting from angry to confused. "Gift, you're looking at me like I'm a ghost. And why are you talking like that? So formal and quiet. Did something happen?"

"No," I stammered quickly, offering a weak, unconvincing smile. "Nothing happened. I just have a really severe migraine. My head feels like it's splitting open, so I was resting in the dark. I didn't hear the phone at first."

Mich searched my face for a long second. The hard edge in his eyes softened, replaced by a warm, familiar kindness that made my heart ache with guilt. He let out a long sigh and rubbed the back of his neck.

"A migraine? You should have told me," he said softly, his voice dropping to a gentler register. "I thought something terrible had happened to you. Things are getting chaotic out there."

"What do you mean?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.

Mich adjusted the thick belt around his waist, his expression darkening again. "Our unit just got called in for emergency riot control down near Metro General Hospital. Something crazy is happening in the emergency room. Some sick guy attacked a doctor, and now a whole crowd is losing their minds. They're sending every available officer to lock down the perimeter."

My heart stopped.

Metro General Hospital. Two o'clock in the afternoon.

The scene played out in my mind with terrifying clarity. In the original web novel, Mich's unit was sent directly into the main lobby of Metro General to contain the riot. They had no idea what they were dealing with. Within thirty minutes of their arrival, the hospital turned into a slaughterhouse. Mich barely survived by locking himself in a supply room, but every single officer in his squad was torn apart and infected right in front of his eyes. That event was what turned Mich into a hardened, traumatized survivor for the rest of the book.

If he walked out of my apartment right now, he was walking straight into a death trap.

I looked at him, my mind spinning furiously. I wanted to grab his bulletproof vest, look him in the eyes, and scream that a zombie virus was breaking out at the hospital. I wanted to tell him to run, to drop his gun and hide. 

But how could I? If I said those words, he would think I had completely lost my mind from my fever. He was a dedicated police officer; he wouldn't abandon a deployment based on a crazy story about flesh-eating monsters.

I had to stop him. I couldn't let him die, not when he was standing right here in front of me, breathing and alive.

"Mich," I said, taking a step toward him. I reached out and gently caught his forearm. His muscles were tense under the dark fabric of his uniform. "Don't go."

He looked down at my hand on his arm, clearly surprised by the sudden physical contact. "Gift, I have to. It's a direct order from the captain. We're rolling out in fifteen minutes."

"Please," I pleaded, dropping all my formal distance and letting genuine desperation bleed into my voice. "I have a terrible feeling about this. A really, really bad feeling. My stomach is in knots, Mich. I don't want you going to that hospital."

Mich let out a soft, dry laugh, though there was no humor in it. "Since when do you believe in bad feelings? Look, I'll be fine. It's just a crowd control situation. Some crazy people causing trouble in an ER. We'll set up a line, calm them down, and I'll come right back to check on you after my shift."

"No!" I said, my grip tightening on his arm. I needed a reason—any normal, everyday reason that would make him stay for just a little while. "Look at my apartment, Mich. I... I was trying to move some heavy furniture and storage boxes earlier before my head started hurting. I tipped over a glass vase, and there are heavy things blocking the closet. I need help. Can't you just delay your deployment? Just tell them you're running late!"

Mich stared at me, his mouth slightly open. "You want me to delay a police call... to help you move boxes?"

"Yes," I lied desperately, my eyes wide as I looked up into his. "Just give me thirty minutes. Or an hour. Call your captain and say your car broke down, or that you had to handle an emergency at home. Please, Mich. Just stay with me for a little bit. I don't want to be alone right now."

I hated using his feelings against him. I could see the internal struggle clear on his face. Mich cared about the original Gift deeply—far more than he ever admitted out loud in the early chapters of the book. Seeing her scared, vulnerable, and begging for his help was something he simply couldn't ignore.

He looked at his wristwatch, then back at me, letting out a long, heavy breath.

"You're acting so strange today," he muttered, shaking his head. But he reached into his pocket, pulled out his radio handset, and pressed the talk button. "Captain, this is Officer Mich. I'm delayed at my location due to a personal emergency. I'll be at the rendezvous point in thirty minutes."

A static-filled voice crackled back from the small speaker. "Copy that, Mich. Hurry up. Things are getting ugly down here."

Mich clicked the radio off and let out a tired sigh. He walked over to the sofa and sat down, leaning his elbows on his knees as he looked up at me. "Thirty minutes, Gift. That's all I can give you. Then I really have to leave."

The moment his body settled onto the cushions, a soft, crystalline chime echoed directly inside my head, loud and clear.

I froze.

The floating blue interface materialised in front of my vision, replacing the old warning with fresh, glowing lines of text.

[STORY DEVIATION DETECTED.]

[ORIGINAL EVENT: MICH ENTERED HOSPITAL AT 14:00 (DEATH OF SQUAD).]

[CURRENT EVENT: MICH DELAYED AT APARTMENT.]

[REWARD GRANTED: INVENTORY UNLOCKED (1/10 SPOTS).]

I stared at the screen in pure shock. It worked. By keeping Mich in the apartment, I had broken the storyline. I had saved his life, and the System had actually rewarded me for changing the course of destiny. A tiny wave of relief and hope washed through my chest. I wasn't helpless. I could change things. I could survive this.

"Gift?" Mich asked, watching me closely as I stared at the empty air in front of him. "Are you alright? You're staring off into space again."

"I'm fine," I said quickly, turning toward him with a breath of relief. "I'm just really glad you stayed—"

Before I could finish my sentence, the large television screen mounted on the living room wall suddenly turned itself on with a sharp buzzing sound.

The bright colors of a daytime talk show vanished, replaced by a harsh, flashing red banner that spanned the entire screen. A high-pitched emergency warning tone shrieked from the speakers, filling the small apartment with a deafening noise.

[EMERGENCY BROADCAST SYSTEM: ALL CITIZENS REMAIN INDOORS. THIS IS NOT A DRILL.]

Mich stood up instantly, his hands dropping to his belt as he stared at the screen. "What the hell is going on?"

Outside the high-rise window, the quiet afternoon air was suddenly shattered. The sound of dozens of police, ambulance, and fire engine sirens began blaring all at once from the streets below, a rising chorus of panic echoing across the entire city.

Suddenly, the small radio on Mich's chest burst into life, cutting through the television's alarm with loud, chaotic static. A man's voice was screaming through the speaker—it was his captain, his tone wild with pure terror.

"All units, pull back! Pull back now! The hospital lobby is lost! I repeat, the lobby is lost!"

Over the radio, background noises of shattered glass, frantic gunfire, and sickening, inhuman snarls filled the transmission.

"Captain!" Mich yelled into his radio, grabbing it with a white-knuckled grip. "Captain, what's your location? What's happening?"

"They aren't human!" the captain screamed back, his voice breaking as heavy pounding thuds rattled through the line. "They don't feel pain! They're biting everyone—they're tearing us apart! Fall back to the—"

A loud, wet crunching noise cut the captain off mid-sentence, followed by a chorus of terrifying, gurgling roars. The transmission dissolved into sharp, endless static.

Mich stood frozen in the middle of the room, his face draining of all color as he stared at the radio in his hand. "No... no, no, no..."

Before he could process the horror, the television screen flickered once and died.

The bright overhead lamps in the ceiling gave a weak hum, sputtered, and went completely dark. Outside, the hum of traffic and city power instantly cut out as the entire power grid across the block failed all at once.

The apartment was plunged into pitch darkness, leaving only the faint, ominous red glow of the emergency sirens flashing through the window glass, and the distant, rising sound of human screams coming from the stairwell right outside our door.