Rael didn't miss a beat. As soon as the screen confirmed Vial had no existing records, she turned to the staff. "Then register him. Now."
The woman in the lab coat looked startled. "That's... highly irregular. He has no digital roots, no history. I'll need authorization—"
"We'll deal with the authorization after. Just start the process," Rael said firmly. "Manually, if you have to."
The woman hesitated, then sighed and began the process. "We'll issue him a provisional ID until someone higher up approves the file."
She glanced at Vial. "Name?"
"Vial," he answered.
"Last name?"
Rael answered for him, quickly. "Just Vial. One name. That's fine for now."
The Health Tech didn't question it. Her fingers flew over the console. "I'll need full biometrics. Retinal scan, fingerprints, and a DNA swab."
Vial complied silently, eyes following the machinery as it hummed to life. Scanners passed over him — smooth lights blinking in rhythm. A fine mist of antiseptic sprayed his fingertips before a soft pad collected his prints.
As the woman approached with a cotton swab, she paused, eyes dropping to his foot.
"You're limping."
Vial looked down. "It's nothing."
Rael stepped forward. "You didn't mention being hurt."
"I didn't think it mattered."
The Health Tech crouched, inspecting his shoe. A darkened smear of dried blood clung to the edge of his sock. "This looks recent. You should've said something."
"It's just a scratch."
"That scratch could be flagged as a sign of conflict or mistreatment. Someone higher up might review this file. If they see an unregistered male walking into one of the most secure facilities in the capital with an untreated wound, I'll be the one explaining it."
Vial didn't respond.
She pointed to the chair. "Sit. I'll clean it."
Rael raised an eyebrow, amused. "You don't really get to say no when someone's patching up your file and your foot."
Vial sat down silently. The woman knelt and cleaned the small gash with careful precision, dabbing with antiseptic before wrapping it neatly in sterile bandage. The injury really was minor — maybe from his earlier run — but she treated it like something far more important.
Once done, she returned to the console. "Provisional profile created. Vial. Male. Biometric ID linked. I've tagged it for follow-up validation by higher administration."
She turned to Rael. "He's in the system now. Barely. If anyone checks, they'll see the entry. But when someone does look deeper… questions will come."
Rael nodded. "Then we'll be ready with answers."
The Health Techa sighed. "He needs rest. There's a clinic wing across the hallway. Room 2A is free."
Rael looked at Vial. "Come on. You're going to sleep for the rest of the day."
"I don't need—"
"You're in a fortress full of bureaucrats and analysts. If someone thinks you're avoiding medical observation, that'll be another red flag."
He stood, carefully this time.
They walked down a quiet, dim hallway until Rael opened a door with a soft hiss. Inside was a small but sterile room, clinical in every way — a narrow bed, pale lighting, quiet machines on standby.
Vial sat at the edge of the bed. He looked exhausted, not just physically but mentally — as if every second of this world had been a weight pulling on his chest.
Rael lingered in the doorway.
"Try to sleep," she said. "Things will move quickly after this."
He nodded, finally lying back.
As the door slid shut and sealed with a faint click, the room fell into silence — the kind that only exists in places where everything is watched, and yet no one speaks.
***
Rael stepped out of the clinic room, the sterile white walls now a dull blur in her peripheral vision. Vial was resting in one of the adjacent rooms, under the watchful gaze of a female bodyguard she had assigned. He'd be fine for now, but the strange lack of information on his file gnawed at her thoughts.
'No records. No history. No digital trace. Why?'
Her mind raced as she walked down the hallway, each step more deliberate than the last. There had to be something she was missing. Perhaps the system had a flaw, or maybe… there was something deliberately hidden. She couldn't shake the feeling that Vial's arrival was no accident. He didn't fit the world around him, and yet, there he was — in the heart of the most secure building in the capital, walking freely through the facility like it was just another day.
Rael entered the lab where Vial had been registered earlier, her eyes narrowing as she noticed the health technician still seated by the terminal, typing away on the screen. The technician looked up at her approach, offering a polite but cautious smile.
"You're back," the technician said, a hint of concern still in her eyes. "Everything alright with the… subject?"
Rael nodded but didn't immediately respond, her gaze flicking to the screen. The technician hesitated for a moment before shifting the screen to her side, giving Rael a clear view of the empty file.
"Can you explain this?" Rael asked, her voice steady but laced with a cold edge. "There should be something — anything. His records are missing. Completely."
The technician let out a soft sigh, pushing her glasses back up her nose. "I've never seen anything like it. At first, I thought it was a system error. So I ran the data through again. Three times, in fact. But the result's the same. No birth records. No identity logs. Not even a medical history. It's like he's never existed."
Rael rubbed the back of her neck, frustration bubbling up inside her. This wasn't just an error. This was… wrong. Her fingers drummed against the edge of the counter as she stared at the screen. "And the flagged status? It's not just the lack of data, right? Something's off."
The technician leaned forward, her voice low. "That's the strange part. He's flagged as an anomaly. Someone higher up might already be reviewing his profile. But, you know... there's no record of any kind of investigation." She paused, as if deciding whether to say more, then added, "It could mean something—or it could just be a glitch. But... I'd be careful."
Rael's thoughts were interrupted as her personal communication device buzzed softly on her wrist. She glanced at it, noticing the incoming call displayed the name Miss Vivianne. Her brow furrowed, and for a moment, she debated whether to answer. Finally, curiosity won out.
She answered the call, placing the device to her ear. "Rael here."
"Rael," came a calm, collected voice on the other end. "I've been reviewing the file on the male anomaly. Care to explain why he's been processed without proper clearance?"
Rael's grip on the device tightened, but her voice remained composed. "It's being handled. He's still under observation, and I've assigned a guard to monitor him. I'll update you once we have more information."
There was a pause, a faint sigh from Vivianne's end. "I trust you understand the seriousness of this, Rael. Keep me informed, and do not take matters into your own hands. The last thing we need is an unregistered male causing a stir."
"I understand," Rael replied, her eyes scanning the lab as her mind shifted between Vivianne's words and the file in front of her.
"Good. I'll expect a full report soon," Vivianne added before the line went dead.
Rael exhaled sharply, frustration mounting. She didn't like the way Vivianne had framed the conversation — as if she were still being monitored, as if her actions were under scrutiny. But this wasn't about that. Vial's situation was something far bigger.
With a brief glance at the technician, Rael turned and headed for the exit, her mind already moving on to the next step. She needed to figure out who was pulling the strings here and why Vial's existence — or lack thereof — seemed to matter so much.