(POV – Protagonist)
I won't lie — at first, I was genuinely a little worried about whether the exhibition would go off without a hitch. And before you think that's me being optimistic... no, not at all.
Just look at past events: everything that started as a simple celebration, a quiet gathering, or a routine event invariably ended with something bordering on — or outright revealing — a harbinger of the end of the world.
And no, I'm not exaggerating or using a figure of speech. I'm saying this in the clearest, most literal way possible. Anyway, I could tell the exhibition was happening without any setbacks.
No alarms had gone off so far, and all the scientists and guards seemed calm, focused on their tasks as if everything was perfectly under control.
The atmosphere was calm enough that even I started to relax. See, I basically had access to an endless stock of ice cream — all I had to do was ask, and someone would soon appear with another tub. I think this is the twentieth one I've finished today.
The strangest part is that, being an anomaly, the side effects a normal person would suffer from eating so much ice cream simply don't affect me. No stomach aches, no brain freeze. Nothing. And honestly, it's in these little moments that I really feel grateful for what I am.
However, even amidst all that peace and serenity, Nyara's words kept echoing in my mind. For some reason, I couldn't shake the uncomfortable feeling they left behind. The "Chaos"... was it really restless for some reason? Nothing unusual had happened so far, and hours had passed since she mentioned it.
Was it just a false alarm? A mistaken impression? Still, the doubt lingered like a stone in my shoe. And if I was confused, why not just ask the source directly? With that thought, I turned to look for Nyara.
I found her just ahead, distracted, eyes fixed on something invisible in the air. A curiously cute expression shaped her face, as if she were admiring a silent dance of lights only she could see.
More precisely, she was seeing the "Chaos" A brief explanation: although the "Chaos" was visible to the attentive eye, it was by no means tangible. It was like a living, shifting, and omnipresent mist moving through the cracks of reality.
However, there was one exception to this rule — Nyara. She was the only one capable of completely ignoring the limitations imposed by its ethereal nature. To her, the Chaos was an extension of herself, something she could shape and manipulate at will, like a silk thread between her fingers. I, on the other hand, was far from having such control.
Although I couldn't touch the Chaos directly, somehow I could still interact with it — provoke reactions, divert flows, maybe even influence its manifestations, but only to a certain extent. It was like swimming against the current of an invisible river: possible, but exhausting... and unpredictable.
Anyway, back to the main topic, a few seconds after watching Nyara, my thoughts broke the brief silence, softly echoing around: (Are the kids still restless?)
As soon as my thoughts echoed into the silence around, Nyara — who had been staring blankly with a distracted look — slowly turned her face toward me. Her eyes shone softly for a brief moment before blinking, as if something inside them had been lit.
Then she nodded lightly, answering the question that hadn't even been spoken aloud: "Yes..." her voice came low, almost a whisper filled with mystery: "but they don't tell me why. They only keep repeating that it'll be a surprise"
Nyara's tone as she said this was almost cruel indifference — cold, distant, like she was commenting on the weather. To me, her words sounded like a warning, as if the world was about to collapse at any moment.
However, from Nyara's point of view, an ancient and impassive Virtue, it probably carried no weight at all. Maybe it wasn't even worthy of her real attention. To her, it all must have seemed as trivial as a leaf being carried by the wind.
***
(POV – Emily Parker)
The exhibition was proceeding without any notable incidents. The scientists, always helpful, patiently and enthusiastically answered the audience's questions, while the guards stayed alert, their eyes constantly scanning the area for any signs of abnormality.
By then, with the event nearing its end, the atmosphere was noticeably calmer. Emily, who had been tense until then, now showed a more relaxed expression — the absence of any imminent disturbance finally seemed to convince her that nothing unexpected would happen.
Now, near the last — or the last few — anomalies to be revealed at the exhibition, Emily took a deep breath, relieved. It seemed everything would end without major incidents, which, from her point of view, was already a rare accomplishment.
With these vague thoughts and a certain boredom lingering in her mind, she kept her gaze fixed on the backs of the visitors, who, either still or whispering among themselves, watched the bizarre exhibits before them. Soon, they would reach the main part of the exhibition — the one that really mattered.
At that very moment, out of the corner of her eye, Emily noticed a figure stepping away from the crowd and heading toward the restroom. Under normal circumstances, that wouldn't have caught her attention — it was just someone going to the bathroom, a routine thing. However, there was something about that scene that bothered her, a subtle strangeness, hard to explain.
Maybe it was the stiffness of the person's steps, or the way they kept their head slightly lowered, avoiding eye contact. Feeling an inexplicable discomfort growing inside her, Emily slowly turned toward Laura — the only one there who had exchanged words with that figure before they disappeared down the hallway.
"Laura!" Emily called, hurriedly, as she approached. Her voice carried a mix of surprise and curiosity, causing Laura to immediately turn her gaze toward her. Their eyes met, still intrigued.
"Who was that just now?" Emily asked, slightly frowning.
Upon hearing Emily's question, Laura, who until then had worn a serene expression, seemed suddenly struck by a memory. In a quick move, she grabbed her tablet firmly and began frantically searching for something on the screen.
The unexpected action caught Emily's attention, and she raised an eyebrow, filled with doubt. But it was Laura's serious tone and her next words that made Emily's heart race, almost skipping a beat.
"She's not here... I can't find her anywhere" Laura whispered, her voice barely audible as her hand began to tremble slowly, as if nervousness was taking over every fiber of her body.
Still confused and hesitant, Emily took a few slow steps toward Laura. Her curious gaze mixed caution with concern. In a low, uncertain voice, she asked: "What's not here? What exactly are you talking about?"
Upon hearing those words, Laura slowly lifted her face, her eyes immediately locking onto Emily's. For a moment, Emily noticed an abrupt change in Laura's expression—the face that was once calm now became tense, almost rigid, as if a silent warning had sounded in her mind.
With a voice broken by worry, Laura whispered: "That person... she's not on the list of civilians authorized to enter the exhibit!"
As soon as Emily heard Laura's words, she was momentarily stunned, almost believing she'd misunderstood. However much she wished otherwise, there was no sign that Laura would reconsider or soften her choice of words. In other words, she meant exactly that. But the doubt lingered: how could this have happened?
All civilians had been thoroughly screened. At first, the idea seemed absurd—even their interiors were carefully checked, and nothing suspicious was found. Besides, it was impossible that someone had made such a gross mistake to let an unregistered civilian slip through unnoticed.
So only one hypothesis remained: someone, at some point, had altered the data. But who, after all, would have that capability? The organization employed some of the best hackers in the world to protect their servers, making a common breach practically impossible. Whoever did this had to be incredibly skilled, able to bypass the most advanced security systems.
***
(POV - ???)
As soon as he entered the bathroom, the man's first reaction was to desperately run to the nearest stall. With trembling hands, he lifted the toilet lid and then began vomiting a bitter, hot mixture that seemed to burn his throat and chest with every effort.
The acidic taste invaded his mouth as his body twisted in agony. Each retch was like a silent confession, an invisible weight he could no longer bear. Guilt crushed his ribs with an almost physical force, as if something inside him was slowly breaking apart.
He leaned against the cold, rough bathroom walls, feeling the chill that seemed to intensify the weight he carried inside. His teary eyes reflected the harsh, relentless white light of the room, which left no room for shadows or disguise.
His labored breathing wavered, trying to balance between deep regret and the suffocating fear that overwhelmed him. For a brief moment, his eyes fixed on the mirror in front of him—there, his reflection stared back, revealing a defeated man, pale-skinned and heavy-eyed, burdened with a silent guilt that seemed to tear his soul apart from within.
"No... this is wrong... I can't keep going like this" he murmured, voice shaking as he swallowed hard. His eyes locked onto nothingness, desperately trying to push away the storm of thoughts flooding his mind.
With a trembling hand, he pulled his phone from his pocket with almost palpable hesitation. His fingers sweated as he dialed the number of that single contact—the person who had recruited him at the start, the fragile link to the dark plan he now refused to follow.
The call went straight to voicemail. He swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and tried again, anxiety growing with every ring. Finally, a voice on the other end answered—steady but emotionless.
"I want out. I can't take it anymore. I can't continue with this plan, even if it's just to scare... There are kids involved, innocent people... Even the scientists are just ordinary people trying to do good. This is wrong" His voice faltered at the end, heavy with fear and regret, while the silence on the other end weighed like a sentence.
On the other side of the line, absolute silence reigned. The man, believing the call was over, slowly lifted the phone—when suddenly a cold, impassive voice cut through the silence like a sharp blade.
The words were cold and calculated, icy like a whip: "Hmm... well, don't worry. You played your part. I've achieved my goal. You're no longer needed" The empty, disdainful tone seemed to suck all hope from the air, leaving only a disturbing echo in the man's mind.
The man felt the weight of the sentence hit him like a brutal punch to the stomach, knocking the air from his lungs: "What?" he tried to protest, voice trembling and muffled, disbelief spreading across his face.
The silence on the other end was the final blow, a cutting void echoing inside him like an unyielding verdict. He was alone—truly abandoned—caught in the middle of a much larger, crueler machine than he had ever imagined. The suffocating feeling of helplessness squeezed his chest as a maddening pain began to crawl through his body, slow and relentless.
In his last thoughts before consciousness slipped away, one question hammered in his mind: where exactly did he go wrong? Was wanting revenge on those who hurt him really that wrong? Maybe not... Maybe, from the start, the mistake wasn't the desire for justice, but the twisted path he chose to follow.
With that thought, a mix of regret and resignation swept over his soul like a heavy shadow, smothering every beat of his heart. The man felt his body grow weak, and slowly, he slipped into the abyss of unconsciousness, wrapped in the thick darkness of his own doubt—darkness that seemed to devour every last fragment of hope he had left.
As the darkness surrounded him, vivid images of the three people he loved most began to flood his mind—faces, laughter, and shared moments still pulsing with a sweetness so deep it almost hurt.
In one of those memories, he saw himself—smiling with a kind of purity and sincerity so real, it was hard to believe that the lost, shadowed man he had become was the same person. For a fleeting moment, it was as if he could reach out and touch the light that once lived inside him.