ValeTech Global Boardroom — 67th Floor
The glass chamber overlooked the city like a brain inside a skull of steel and light. ValeTech's top executives, scientific leads, and international medical investors filled the long obsidian table.
They weren't just powerful—they were intimidating.
And at the end of the table stood a tall boy in a school uniform, fingers gripping a tablet, pulse fast beneath pale skin.
Lior Ahn.
Age: 16.
Credentials: None.
But every pair of eyes was on him.
Renji stood silently to the side, arms crossed, expression neutral.
But Lior felt his gaze like gravity.
---
> "Present your theory, Mr. Ahn," said one board member. "And make it worth our time."
Lior took a breath and tapped the screen. A full-scale 3D rendering of the insula cortex floated in midair, rotating slowly.
> "My proposed concept is called Neuro-Empathic Reinforcement Mapping," Lior began, voice soft but steady. "It's the idea that certain areas of the brain—specifically the anterior insula—can be stimulated to improve emotional regulation in patients with degenerative neurological disorders."
Silence.
A few murmurs.
"You're suggesting we can train empathy back into brains that are losing themselves?" another board member asked, skeptical.
Lior met their gaze. "Not train—rebuild. Patterned reinforcement of neural loops through affective simulation. Patients can relearn emotional identity. Memory loss doesn't mean love has to vanish."
There was a pause.
Then someone scoffed.
> "Emotion doesn't save lives. Surgery does."
Before Lior could answer, Renji stepped forward.
Voice calm. But sharp.
> "That's where you're wrong. Emotion is the reason patients fight to live. Mr. Ahn's theory isn't about soft science. It's about the soul of medicine. Something we're dangerously close to forgetting."
Eyes turned.
Lior blinked.
Renji had just defended him.
In front of everyone.
---
Later – Renji's Private Office
Lior stood by the aquarium, watching the glowing jellyfish drift like neurons in slow motion.
"I didn't expect you to defend me," he said quietly.
Renji handed him a glass of iced water and leaned against the desk.
"You earned that room," Renji said. "You've done more with your system in a month than our senior researchers have in a year."
Lior sipped slowly. "…You're not usually this soft."
Renji gave a rare smile. "You're not usually this bold."
Their eyes met.
A silence settled between them—warm, electric.
Lior's gaze drifted downward, then back up.
"You're really hard to read, you know."
"Am I?"
"You always look like you're about to take over the world… or disappear completely."
Renji's voice lowered. "And what do you want me to do?"
Lior froze.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then Renji stepped closer, his presence quiet but overwhelming.
"I'm trying, Lior," he murmured. "To keep distance. To protect you. From this place. From me."
Lior's voice was barely audible. "What if I don't want distance?"
Renji stopped.
Then, slowly, he reached out.
His fingers brushed Lior's cheek—lightly. Like he wasn't sure he was allowed.
Lior closed his eyes.
But the moment shattered when the door burst open.
> "Renji—"
It was Kieran.
He froze when he saw them. Saw Renji's hand.
Saw the quiet closeness between them.
Lior stepped back instantly, flustered. "I should go."
He brushed past Kieran without a word.
Renji didn't stop him.
He didn't move at all.
Kieran watched the door close, then turned to Renji—his expression venomous.
"You said he was just a project."
Renji finally spoke.
"I lied."