Anika leaned forward slightly, studying him with mild curiosity.
"What about the cracks?" she asked. "Are they tattoos?"
Nero shook his head. "I have no idea."
She traced one faint line with her gaze, then frowned. "Do they hurt?"
"No," Nero said. "They don't feel like anything."
Anika tilted her head. "Nothing at all?"
He hesitated. "I don't really feel much. Hot, cold—any of it."
Her brow furrowed. "Wait, what do you mean? Is it total numbness? Or just dulled sensation?"
"I can tell when something's hot," Nero said. "Like the coffee—it feels warm when I drink it, and I feel the warmth inside me. But…"
He dipped his finger straight into the steaming mug.
"This just feels… warm. Not hot."
Anika's eyes widened. "You just—put your finger in the coffee like it's nothing?! That thing's piping hot!"
Nero looked at her, unfazed. "What?"
Dorne raised an eyebrow. "Watch this."
He mimicked Nero, lowering a finger toward his own cup. The instant it touched the surface, he flinched and yanked it back.
"See?" he said, shaking his hand. "That's how a normal person reacts. It's burning."
Nero looked from Dorne to his own finger, still submerged in the drink.
"It really doesn't feel that hot," he muttered.
He glanced at Anika. "So… what's wrong with me?"
Anika rubbed her forehead. "You both just stuck your fingers into your coffee, and now you're drinking it like nothing happened. Did either of you even wash your hands?"
"I always wash my hands," Nero said, sipping calmly.
Dorne hesitated. "I… Sigh. I forgot."
He kept sipping anyway.
Anika and Nero stared at him.
Dorne met their gaze with a shrug. "What? It's good coffee. I'm not wasting it."
They all finished their cups in silence.
After finishing their coffee, Anika brought over her equipment and began examining Nero. She checks his reflexes, temperature, eyes, ears, mouth—everything she can without using heavy equipment. After a while, she says, "Everything looks fine. I don't see anything wrong with your body."
Nero asked quietly, "What about the marks?"
Anika reached out and gently touched one of the dark cracks running along his cheek. Her brow furrowed.
"Odd… it feels like a real crack. Not a scar. Not a tattoo."
She brought both hands up and carefully pinched the skin on either side of it, pulling outward.
The skin stretched—but the crack didn't widen.
It stayed exactly the same.
"There's an actual gap in your skin," she murmured. "But it's like… the crack isn't part of the flesh at all."
She let go slowly, watching as his skin returned to place, the line still there, untouched.
"That's not natural," she said, her voice quieter now.
Nero blinks, shocked. "How can that be? Shouldn't I feel pain if my skin was cracked open like that?"
Still examining the fissure, Anika says, "Yeah, you should. But you didn't even react when you put your finger in hot coffee. Could be something wrong with your pain receptors."
She picked up a small flashlight and leaned in, angling the light toward the crack on his cheek.
Nero sat motionless, eyes on her face, trying to read her reaction.
"So?" he asked quietly. "What do you see?"
Anika hesitates. "I… don't see anything. No muscle, no veins—nothing. It's like the light is getting swallowed inside. Like there's nothing in there at all."
Nero and Dorne exchange uneasy looks.
Anika holds the thin needle steady and carefully inserts it into the narrow crack on Nero's cheek. The moment the tip enters, she pauses.
"There's no resistance… It's like sliding into open air."
She pushes it in further, her brows knitting tighter. "Still going… I don't feel the end."
Nero watched her hands and the shift in her expression. "How deep is it?" he murmured.
Anika swallows. "This crack is barely a few millimeters wide on the surface, but this needle's already gone in more than three centimeters. There shouldn't be space for that. It's like there's no end to it. No resistance, no flesh—just… emptiness."
Anika pulls out the needle. It was perfectly intact—no damage at all. Nero stared at it, his thoughts spiraling: What's wrong with me?
Anika glanced at Dorne, who gave a small nod. Then she looked back at Nero.
"Hey, don't worry too much. Let me take a blood sample. I'll run some more tests."
Nero nodded and rolled up his left sleeve—revealing more cracks.
Anika inserted a fresh needle into his vein and began drawing blood.
"Did you feel the prick?" she asked.
"I felt it touch my skin," Nero said, "but… no pain."
She pulled the needle out—and instantly, a new dot appeared on his arm, identical to the cracks. Nero's eyes widened.
Anika leaned in slightly. "I think you need to be careful from now on. Don't get injured."
Nero gave a stiff nod.
As she put the blood sample away, she asked, "How many of these cracks do you have?"
His voice turned grim. "I'm covered in them."
"Can I… take a look?" she asked gently.
Nero let out a tired sigh. "Yeah. You can look."
He took off his shirt.
Both Anika and Dorne stepped in closer, eyes narrowing as they examined his bare torso. The cracks spread across his chest and shoulders, some trailing down his arms. When they glanced upward, his neck was clear.
Then they stepped behind him—and froze.
There it was—The Mark.
Black, like the cracks. Fractured. Ancient. Unnatural. Wrong.
"Hey," Dorne said, pointing, "you've got something on your back."
Nero twisted around, trying to see it over his shoulder, but the angle was wrong. "What is it? I can't see anything."
"Looks like some kind of symbol… or a mark," Dorne replied, squinting to get a better look.
Nero blinked. "Do you have a phone or something? Can you get a closer look?"
As the words left his mouth, something inside him shifted. A tremor deep in the soul. He didn't understand why—but the moment felt… wrong.
Neither Anika nor Dorne noticed the change in his voice.
"I've got a phone," Anika said, stepping into the other room. She returned quickly. "Here. Just a sec—I'll take a picture."
She snapped the photo and handed the phone to Nero.
He took it and looked.
His breath caught.
The screen showed the Mark—but as Nero stared, the room began to dissolve around him. His skin turned pale. Sweat trickled down his temples. His hands began to tremble. Screams echoed in his ears—distant at first, then louder. Agony. Chaos. Death.
"—Nero?"
"—Hey, Nero?"
Dorne and Anika were calling to him, but he didn't hear them. Couldn't.
Then, Dorne grabbed him by the shoulders.
Nero snapped back, eyes wide. He looked at Dorne, tears falling freely down his face. This time, he didn't wipe them away.
He let them fall.
He cried.
Dorne softened his voice. "Hey… did something painful come back to you?"
Nero's voice cracked as he replied, "Not the memory… just the feeling. Like I've lost everything, but I can't say why."