Morning sunlight poured gently into the lab room, bathing everything in a soft, golden glow.
Shia stirred, slowly sitting up on the bed with a long, quiet breath. She blinked, still adjusting to the light. Her gaze naturally drifted to the other side of the bed—Vial, still fast asleep, his chest rising and falling in peaceful rhythm.
Her eyes lingered.
It wasn't a dream.
"Last night... It really happened."
Her cheeks flushed instantly. She clasped both hands to her face, trying to snap herself out of the swirling thoughts that threatened to drag her under again.
"Focus… get a grip," she whispered to herself.
She stood up quietly, trying not to wake him, and carefully dressed. With one final glance at the sleeping man, she exited the room, walking through the pristine corridors of the research lab.
Soon, she returned with a food tray balanced on a wheeled cart with covered dishes and utensils neatly arranged. As she pushed it down the hallway, her mind wandered… back to the night before.
The way he touched her. The heat. The overwhelming sensations.
Her body tingled at the memory.
"…I want to do it again," she whispered to herself, blushing furiously as she pushed the cart faster.
Back in the room, she placed the tray beside the bed. Her eyes drifted back to Vial's sleeping face. Slowly, she sat on the edge of the bed, inching closer. Her hand reached out on its own, tracing small circles across his bare stomach with a fingertip.
"So warm…" she murmured softly, her lips parting in a small smile, lost in the moment.
"You planning to keep touching me like that until I wake up?" a sleepy voice asked.
Shia froze.
Her eyes snapped to his—open, alert, and watching her with a faint smirk.
"A-Ah—!" She shot up in panic, stammering, "I-I wasn't—! That's not—!"
In her flustered state, her heel caught on the leg of a nearby chair. She stumbled, arms flailing. Just as she was about to hit the floor, Vial moved fast—grabbing her wrist instinctively.
But he didn't have enough leverage.
The two of them toppled down together.
Thud.
Shia lay sprawled on top of him, their faces inches apart. Her hair spilled over his shoulder. His arms instinctively wrapped around her waist. The world seemed to pause.
Her breath hitched.
Their eyes met.
She leaned forward slowly, lips trembling, eyes fluttering shut—
Whoosh—
The door slid open.
Rael stood in the entryway, arms crossed, her expression unreadable.
"…"
Shia practically jumped off Vial, flailing again as she scrambled upright. "T-This isn't what it looks like!"
Rael raised a brow but otherwise didn't react. "I'm not interested in your private activities, Dr. Shia."
Shia flushed scarlet.
Rael stepped further in, her tone cool and professional. "The final test needs to be conducted immediately. Higher-ups are arriving later today."
Shia nodded stiffly, trying to compose herself. "R-Right. Of course…"
After they finish eating, they went ahead to prepare for the final test to begin.
Shia's eyes darted across the final screen, her breath shaky. Hands trembling, she double-checked the data. Then triple-checked. No mistake. No anomaly in the readings.
"It's real…" she whispered.
Rael, standing quietly near the doorway with arms crossed, lifted an eyebrow. "Well?"
Shia slowly turned, her expression a mix of awe and disbelief. "Vial is completely unaffected by the virus. Not resistant. Not mutated. There's nothing—not a single trace of viral integration in his genome."
A heavy silence settled in the room.
Rael stepped forward, her gaze sharpening. "Are you sure?"
"I ran every available diagnostic. Repeated them." Shia swallowed. "I even used legacy samples from known carriers to compare. He's… clean. Like the virus never existed in his biological lineage."
Vial looked between the two, confused. "So… what does that mean?"
Shia approached slowly, still dazed. "You're not just immune, You're exempt. Somehow, you bypassed years of genetic fallout. You're a full biological male with a pure genetic profile."
Her voice cracked, overwhelmed by the weight of it. "Vial… do you understand what this means? You're living proof that a pre-virus genome still exists. You could be the cure, A reset for everything we lost."
Rael's lips parted, just slightly. That reaction alone from her was rare.
"The higher-ups will want confirmation," Rael said, voice quiet, unreadable.
Shia nodded. "They'll get it. I'm running the last comparative panel now, but it's already clear. He's not just a statistical miracle—he's a genetic one."
Vial exhaled slowly. "That sounds... big."
Shia laughed softly, almost in disbelief. "Big? You're walking history. No, more than that, you might be the one thing that can change everything."
Rael stepped closer to the bed, her tone firm again. "Finish the test. Prepare the report, The Higher-up will be here in a few hours."
After the results were confirmed, the atmosphere shifted. The room no longer felt like a sterile research lab—it felt like the eye of a storm.
Rael handed Vial a sealed package without a word. Inside were neatly folded slacks, a crisp white dress shirt, and a dark suit jacket, tailored and pressed.
"You'll wear this for the meeting," she said before leaving again.
Shia lingered for a moment longer, her expression softer. "Take your time… but not too long. They'll be here soon."
Then she, too, was gone.
Vial stood alone in the quiet room, holding the clothes in his hands. He sighed and went to his assigned room when he first came here to take a bath.
"Guess it's showtime."
The warm water helped clear his head. Steam curled around him as he stepped into the shower, letting it wash away the tension of the morning. Still, no matter how relaxed his body became, his mind didn't follow.
'I wonder how my friends are doing…'
His chest tightened at the thought. He hadn't even said goodbye. They were probably worried sick—assuming time even moved the same way in this world. Did days pass back home? Weeks? Or none at all?
He scrubbed at his hair, biting down on a bitter memory.
His mother had passed away right before graduation. One day, she was smiling faintly at his half-cooked breakfast… the next, she was gone. No warning. Just another reminder of how fragile life was.
After that, he didn't have the heart to jump into college. Instead, he got a job—warehouse work mostly—saving what little he could. His dad had long checked out of their lives. After the divorce, he became a ghost, one who sent no messages, no money, no care.
Vial had gotten used to walking alone.
And now here I am. In a world with a one-in-a-billion body… and nobody to really share it with.
He dried off slowly, his thoughts circling.
The suit fit surprisingly well, though he felt awkward in it. Like he was cosplaying someone important instead of being that person.
Standing in front of the mirror, he adjusted the collar. His reflection stared back—a clean, sharply dressed young man with tired eyes and a future suddenly burdened with meaning.
A soft knock echoed from the door.
"Mr. Vial," came a calm female voice. "Are you inside?" She asked. "I've been instructed to escort you to the meeting chamber."
He took one last glance at himself.
Let's see what all this really means.
Vial stepped toward the door.