DAY 3 – LABORATORY
INT. CGO RESEARCH LAB – MORNING
The soft hum of machines filled the lab. Pale blue light from monitors washed over Evah's cluttered workstation—papers, tools, and open books scattered like a storm.
A voice broke through the rustling of pages.
"How are the classes, Miss Evah?"
Her hands froze mid-motion. Evah slowly turned, face tense, meeting Doctor Riko's curious gaze.
"Everything alright?" he asked, tilting his head slightly.
Evah opened her mouth to respond but quickly shut it again. She glanced around her disaster of a desk and grimaced. Unorganized. Total chaos.
"No, everything's good, Doctor!" she blurted, forcing a smile.
Riko raised a brow, clearly unconvinced. "Are you sure?"
A sigh escaped her before she could stop it. She dropped the act and looked down at the glowing laptop screen.
"It's just…" She hesitated, gesturing helplessly at the mountain of notes. "I want to do this and this and this—"
"Feels like you're running out of time?" he finished for her, smiling knowingly.
Evah blinked. Then slowly nodded.
He chuckled softly, walking closer to give her shoulder a gentle pat. "You're not. It's only the third day. If you rush, you'll just trip over yourself. You know that, right?"
She nodded again, this time smaller, almost embarrassed.
"You're just too excited," he said kindly.
Hearing that, her pulse quickened—like something inside her agreed with him before she could think.
Her head tilted. "I am?"
For a brief moment, she listened to herself.
I am.
"It's been a while, hasn't it?" His tone softened, almost nostalgic. "Opening books again, building things with your hands—it feels like freedom."
The familiar click-click of his fidget toy echoed faintly as he spoke.
Evah turned to him, eyes widening. He smiled at her surprise. "I know how it feels," he said, lifting the toy to chest level.
Evah turned to her table. She hadn't slept last night. With Erion on her mind, she'd run tests, scribbled down ideas—possible reasons, conclusions, solutions. Now, under the morning light, she didn't even know where to start.
She wanted to check everything. All at once.
And the doctor's words… they validated it.
Of course he knew. He always did.
"No need to worry," Doctor Riko said, his tone light. "Also, I wanted to remind you— you can build whatever you want here. You just need my approval first."
He paused, flashing her a grin. "And if I recall correctly, I've been a pretty good boss, right?"
Then he winked.
The wink was awkward. Painfully awkward.
Evah couldn't help but let out a small giggle.
"Did it look weird? I practiced that," he admitted with a sigh.
"It's fine, Doctor. It's the thought that counts," she said, trying not to laugh too hard.
Riko turned toward the glass cabinet behind her and tried again. "Okay… yeah, that really does look weird," he muttered.
"You're supposed to do it with one eye only, Doctor," she commented, half amused, half exasperated.
"Alright, alright," he said with a chuckle. "Now go back to studying—my wink isn't part of your lessons."
Evah grinned. "I think I'd rather invest time helping you perfect that wink."
She started tidying up her desk while Riko continued practicing beside her, still clicking his fidget toy.
"Actually" she said suddenly, glancing at the papers spread across her table, "I saw your desk once. It was always clean and organized. I thought… maybe it might help." He gleaned again in the direction of the doctor's table, just like always clean and organized.
Sha cannot stop to adore.
She paused mid-motion, then sighed. "But look at me. I'm helpless. Even my handwriting's terrible."
The doctor smiled softly. "Keeping things clean and organized does help clear your mind," he said, adjusting the glasses from his pocket and slipping them on. "But it's not something you learn overnight. And not everyone works the same way."
He crossed his arms, nodding like it was a matter of pride. "My desk used to be worse than yours. I lose these glasses every two days." Pointing to the glasses.
Evah blinked. "Eh?"
"It's true." he said proudly, waving goodbye before heading back to his station.
Evah let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. Then her eyes fell on her desk again.
The laptop screen displayed Erion's details. Beside it were old, printed books—no digital versions available. Her tablet, on the other hand, showed the latest research on sleep disorders.
Her heartbeat quickened.
Maybe the doctor was right. It wasn't stress. It wasn't pressure.
It was excitement—raw and familiar.
Because for the first time in years, she wanted to build something again.
And for someone very specific.
I need to start, she thought, gripping her pen. Even if it's a stupid beginning.