The conference room door opened, and people began filing out one by one. Evah stayed behind, pretending to check something on her tablet. Her fingers scrolled aimlessly over the screen, but her eyes kept flicking to the door, waiting. She didn't even know why—just a restless curiosity pulling at her.
Every so often she glanced from the corner of her eye, trying to catch him without being obvious.
"Miss me?"
The whisper slid against her ear, warm with a soft breath that made her flinch sideways. Erion—whom she hadn't seen at the door at all—was suddenly standing right next to her.
"I told you to stop doing that!" she protested, hugging the tablet against her chest like a shield.
He chuckled, unbothered. "Let's go say hi to Riko." He tipped his head toward the laboratory door and opened it, then looked back at her, gesturing for her to go first.
And she did.
Inside, greetings followed the Major General as always. Evah was reminded yet again of how loved Erion was, though she couldn't quite grasp why. Perhaps it was because they hadn't seen him in his other side—his kill mode. That thought lingered bitterly.
Instead of approaching Riko, who was buried in work at the far end, Evah headed straight for her station. Erion, of course, trailed after her. His presence pressed close, heavy enough to suffocate.
She tried to ignore it. She set the tablet aside and focused on the laptop in front of her, typing quickly, shifting between screens, then jotting down notes on the tablet beside it. The pace of her fingers quickened as if sheer focus could shut him out.
Erion stood nearby, silent, watching her like a child staring through a toy store window.
What does he want? she thought, forcing herself to concentrate.
She slipped on her goggles, grabbed a chemical container, and carefully measured the dosage before setting it aside. When she returned to her chair, she pulled off the goggles and let them fall onto the table with a soft click. At that exact moment, a hand landed firmly on her shoulder.
She froze. She didn't need to look—she knew who it was.
Before she could turn to complain, a low rasp brushed her ear. "What's the meaning of that?"
A chill rippled down her spine.
Leaning down, he was almost at her level now, close enough that she could feel his breath.
Her eyes darted forward. The laptop. She hadn't closed the file.
The glowing screen displayed a series of charts and biometric graphs—heart rate variability, sleep cycle irregularities, blood type, and genetic markers. At the very top, highlighted in bold header text, was the case file:
Subject ID: ERION MCQUAIDE
Condition: Nightmare Disorder (ICD-10: F51.5)
Blood Type: [Redacted]
Age: 27
Known Comorbidities: [Redacted / Pending Analysis]
Treatment Protocol: Experimental Regimen – Phase 1
Monitoring Status: Ongoing / High Risk
Her blood ran cold.
Uh-oh.
She shot up from her seat and slammed the laptop shut.
But before she could step back, his other hand clamped her other shoulder, holding her in place.
"I already saw it, Bunny." His voice dipped, mischievously threatening. His jester smile.
Evah hugged the laptop to her chest, spinning to face him. His smirk curved sharp beneath eyes that glittered with annoyance—and something darker.
"It's not what you think!" she stammered, edging back until the table dug into her spine.
"You're not allowed to do that." His lean closed the space further, trapping her. HIs flaming blue eyes.
Her heartbeat hammered. She searched desperately for the right words, her gaze falling to their shoes nearly touching—the white hem of her lab coat brushing against his casual sneakers.
"I… I just wanted to help." Her voice came out small, like she was the one hurting.
His scent lingered, dizzying her. She clutched the laptop tighter. Would he fire her for this?
Then his torso shifted, blocking her view. His lips tilted close to her ear.
"Stop it. You can't fix me."
Everything went silent.
The words cut deeper than any slap, sharp enough to steal her breath. She froze, the weight of them sinking into her chest until it felt cold, solid, impossible to bear. It was true—cruelly, undeniably true. The chances were slim to none. And yet, just like with Yuka's condition, surrender was something she could never accept.
And just like that, he pulled away.
One last glance at her—almost enough to break him too.
He turned and walked off, leaving her standing there with her chest split open, breath caught in her throat.
It hurt more than she expected—because she knew he was right.
Her eyes snapped up, blazing with pride, curiosity, and stubborn determination. She searched for him—and spotted him only a few meters away, near Riko.
"Doctor Riko already gave me permission!" she called suddenly, her steps quick and determined.
Riko paused mid-step, blinking as if the words hadn't quite reached him. Erion froze, shoulders stiffening before his head snapped toward her. His mouth parted soundlessly, then his eyes cut to Riko, sharp and demanding, as though the doctor held the only explanation.
"Shut up, Erion! I'll show you I can. You'll see!" She leaned forward with each word, voice trembling but strong, then spun on her heel and stormed out of the laboratory.
For a moment, silence hung.
Dr. Riko wandered toward Erion, tablet in one hand, spinning a fidget toy with the other. His brows arched in bemusement. "What was that about?"
Erion was still staring at the door, dumbstruck. "Did she just say… 'shut up' to me?"
Riko grinned and nodded several times. "Yes. She definitely did."