(Extra) The Story of Little Remy

Today, Mom died.

Or maybe it was yesterday—Little Remy couldn’t remember anymore.

His memories were a blur, as if his brain had been tossed into a washing machine, tumbled around, and then over-dried.

Fragments of memories swirled together, leaving him with the overwhelming urge to slam his head against the wall and end it all.

The last thing he remembered was Mom lunging at him, sinking her teeth into his neck.

He screamed for her, but the only response was her biting down harder.

Little Remy didn’t know when he had become a dish on a plate, something Mom couldn’t resist devouring.

He clearly remembered that Mom was a vegetarian.

Even when he was eating his favorite chicken leg, she had never shown this level of enthusiasm.

Everything after that became hazy. He remembered struggling desperately, even accidentally knocking Mom’s head sideways.

But Mom’s bite was too painful. Little Remy couldn’t understand why the woman who always smiled and called him to dinner had become so vicious and cruel.

So he had no choice but to fight back.

In his memory, Mom was always kind to him, except during arguments with Dad, when she would turn into a raging madwoman.

Little Remy remembered clearly—Mom never showed that side of herself to him.

“Gurgle, gurgle, gurgle.”

A gnawing hunger rose from his stomach, and Little Remy tried to get up from the floor.

He opened his eyes, only to find that the world had turned monochrome, with only shades of red to distinguish light from dark.

The floor was sticky, and when he tried to stand, a patch of skin seemed to peel off his face.

Panicked, Little Remy reached up to touch his cheek, expecting to feel the uneven texture of torn flesh, but his sense of touch was dull and vague.

He pulled his hand back and saw it was covered in dark red blood, sending a jolt of fear through him.

This was a serious injury!

But... huh... why didn’t it hurt?

His thoughts were sluggish, and he even forgot about the wound on his face moments later.

An even stronger hunger had taken over his mind.

He wanted to eat something—preferably meat, fresh and bloody, to chew through the muscle fibers and suck out the sweet, red juices...

Good heavens, where had such a horrifying thought come from?!

Staggering to his feet, he recalled the location of the kitchen.

He tried calling out to Mom, but all that came out was a guttural, incoherent growl.

His ears must be broken too—this was a serious illness.

After eating something... he’d have to see a doctor right away.

In the kitchen, Little Remy found a chaotic mess of utensils, grease, and stains that hadn’t been cleaned.

Mom was always so tidy—she would’ve been furious to see the kitchen like this.

Little Remy didn’t know why that thought crossed his mind now.

But the bigger problem was that there was nothing to eat.

The vegetables—the leafy greens and broccoli stalks—were things he usually hated, even though Mom always insisted he eat them for a balanced diet.

Ignoring the unappetizing greens, Little Remy walked over to the fridge.

Inside were his favorite ice creams and chicken legs.

He wasn’t allowed to eat the ice cream without permission, or Mom would scold him.

He often saw Mom take the chicken legs out of the fridge, cook them, and turn them into delicious, tender meals.

Now, the ice cream didn’t seem appealing at all—he wanted the chicken legs.

He rummaged through the freezer drawers, scattering their contents everywhere. Normally, Mom would’ve scolded him for this, but now...

Little Remy glanced toward Mom’s room, where it was eerily quiet. That was where she had bitten him last.

Suddenly, his eyes lit up—he found the package he’d been searching for, labeled “Fresh Chicken Legs.”

The hunger was driving him mad. He pulled out a chicken leg and, without a second thought, bit down hard.

Huh?

His teeth hit something hard, and the expected sound of tearing flesh never came.

Looking down, he saw his teeth embedded in the chicken leg, along with dark red blood.

But the chicken leg was unharmed, as if it were made of iron.

Only then did he realize the chicken leg was still frozen.

And... why was he eating it raw? Chicken legs were supposed to be cooked first, weren’t they?

His mind raced with disjointed thoughts as he took all the chicken legs out of the package and laid them in a row on the kitchen counter, where the sunlight streamed in through the window.

They looked like soldiers awaiting inspection. Soon, he would have something to eat, and that thought made him happy.

Leaving the kitchen, Little Remy felt like he’d done something wrong.

After all, he hadn’t cleaned up the mess, and he was about to steal the chicken legs from the fridge.

He glanced at Mom’s room again and tiptoed to the door.

There were horrifying bloodstains on it, though he didn’t know whose blood it was.

Little Remy tilted his head, touching the gaping wound on his neck. His head felt wobbly, so he steadied it with his hands.

“Mom... Mom...?”

He stepped into the room, calling out to the familiar, gentle woman.

But what he saw inside was a gruesome sight. Mom lay motionless, her skin gray, her head nearly severed from her neck, a pair of scissors lodged in her skull.

Her eyes were wide open, frozen in the same ferocious expression she had when she bit him.

Mom was definitely dead.

A wave of indescribable sadness washed over Little Remy. He should’ve been terrified.

Mom’s death was more horrifying than anything he’d seen in the scary movies she never let him watch—though he’d sneak peeks and then hide under the covers.

But this was Mom.

Shaking his head, Little Remy slowly walked out of the room, his steps even more sluggish than before.

He made his way back to the kitchen, where the chicken legs had thawed slightly, their bloody juices dripping onto the floor.

The intoxicating smell and color made his eyes widen.

He swallowed hard, though he wasn’t sure if he still could.

The blood was like the red envelopes relatives gave him during New Year’s—he couldn’t look away.

The ice crystals on the chicken legs were melting into the blood, and Little Remy couldn’t hold back any longer.

The kitchen filled with the sickening sound of chewing.

The chicken legs were still a bit tough, but they were edible now. The sweet, bloody juices and half-frozen meat slid down his throat.

He felt a strange sense of happiness.

Except for the fact that he accidentally swallowed a bone.

“Crash!!”

Little Remy heard the sound of breaking glass. His body had undergone some unknown change, making him hyper-sensitive to noise.

When he walked into the living room, he saw a little girl in a pink dress climbing through the broken window.

They were on the second floor—she must’ve climbed up.

She was dirty, with bloodstains on her clothes, and she carried a small brown leather backpack. She looked at him with terrified eyes.

“D-don’t come any closer!!!”

The girl fumbled for something to use as a weapon, eventually holding up her backpack like a shield.

Little Remy tilted his head, confused about why she was so scared of him.

“Uhh... (Which school do you go to)?”

He tried to ask, but the girl trembled at the sound of his voice.

This time, little Remy also realized something was wrong. His ears seemed fine, as he could understand the little girl's words, so it must be his throat that was causing the problem.

What a terrifying illness...

"Urgh... (Sorry, I think I'm sick)."

He tried to speak again but found that he could no longer produce human language, which made him anxious.

He stepped forward, intending to help the girl who had fallen amidst the shattered glass. However, the girl was startled and let out a scream before running into the room.

"Urgh... (Come back, that's my mom's room)."

He followed her, wanting to stop her. He didn’t want her to see the gruesome state of his mother’s body.

Sure enough, by the time he reached the doorway, the girl had already fainted from shock.

The sight in the room must have been too much for her.

Little Remy shook his head and carried the girl to the couch to rest. Dusk soon fell.

When the girl woke up again, she saw little Remy sitting beside her, staring at her motionlessly.

"Ah!!!!!"

She screamed again, almost fainting once more.

But when she noticed that Remy wasn’t attacking her or opening his foul-smelling mouth to bite her, she looked at him with confusion. Carefully, she asked in a soft, hesitant voice:

"You... won’t eat me?"

Finally, Remy moved. He tilted his head and replied:

"Urgh...? (Why would I eat you?)"

"I can’t understand what you’re saying..."

The little girl shook her head at him. As Remy spoke, she caught a whiff of the foul odor from his mouth and instinctively scooted further away.

Remy looked at the girl and suddenly felt an impulse.

He wanted to tear her apart, bite into her flesh, and drink her blood. Especially since she looked so small—her meat must be tender and delicious... Stop!!!

Remy quickly covered his head, trying to suppress these horrifying thoughts.

"Pfft!"

The little girl couldn’t help but laugh at Remy’s clumsy movements.

Remy suddenly remembered something. He opened the small drawer in the living room coffee table and rummaged through it, pulling out some snacks.

He handed them to the girl, muttering incoherently.

"Is this for me?"

The girl looked at the dirty hand holding out the snack wrapper. Her hunger got the better of her, and she took it.

Remy had learned his lesson. He didn’t speak but simply nodded.

"Thank you!"

The girl no longer hesitated. She opened the wrapper and began eating, clearly starving.

Over the next few days, Remy survived on the chicken legs in the fridge.

He ate only one a day, thinking he should pace himself so they wouldn’t run out too quickly.

The little girl stayed in the temporarily safe little house, surviving on the snacks Remy had left for her.

Remy knew he couldn’t communicate with the girl, so he quietly searched the house for more snacks to give her.

He didn’t understand why he had lost interest in these snacks. Was it because he had grown up?

But as time passed, the chicken legs in the fridge ran out, and so did Remy’s snacks.

The two of them sat in the living room, hungry and dejected, neither saying a word.

The little girl was too weak from hunger, while Remy still had some strength left. He looked at her with an inexplicable expression.

Remy felt something churning inside him, something he could barely suppress.

It felt as if something in his stomach was clawing at him, making him unbearably uncomfortable. He felt as though if he opened his mouth, a hand might reach out from within.

He stood up and walked over to the girl. Her eyes were closed, her lashes fluttering as if she were conserving her energy.

He reached out, wanting to do something, but then paused mid-air, struggling to control himself.

"What’s wrong?"

The little girl opened one eye, too weak to open the other.

"Urgh..."

Remy felt guilty for his thoughts. He quickly masked his intentions and walked away, continuing to rummage through the house.

"If you’re that hungry, maybe you should just eat me, zombie brother."

The girl’s voice was weak. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead, a sign that she wasn’t just hungry—she was also sick.

Remy heard her words. His limping foot paused for a moment, but he pretended not to hear and continued walking into the room.

When he returned, he held an expired lollipop he had found. He stood in front of the girl.

"Plop."

The lollipop fell to the ground.

The little girl had stopped breathing. Her frail body had finally given out.

Remy felt an overwhelming sense of loss. What awaited him now was perhaps an even longer period of loneliness.

Exhausted, he leaned back on the couch, next to the girl’s lifeless body, and picked up the lollipop that had fallen to the floor.

It had shattered into several pieces when it hit the ground, but the wrapper still held it together.

With difficulty, he peeled off the wrapper and tossed the broken pieces into his mouth, discarding the plastic stick.

The candy had no taste in his mouth; all he felt was the foreign texture.

It used to be his favorite flavor.

Remy felt utterly disappointed. He wanted to cry, to throw a tantrum in his mother’s arms.

But his mother was gone now.

He remembered the scissors in his mother’s head in the room and suddenly opened his eyes.

A strange light flickered in his eyes as he swallowed the shards of the lollipop, which felt like broken glass. He struggled to his feet.

He wanted to go get those scissors from the room, and then...

"Urgh... (Zombie brother)."

Remy froze. He turned to look at the girl’s body and noticed that her skin had turned a bluish-gray.

She opened the eye that had remained closed earlier, no longer looking weak.

"Urgh...? (Shall we go on an adventure together?)"

She sat up and grabbed Remy’s hand.

A gentle breeze parted the curtains, letting the sunset’s light fall on the two of them.

It illuminated their hands, now clasped together.