The light from the Bracelet pulsed between them — soft, steady, alive.
Leo's hand hovered just above it, trembling. His breath came too fast, his chest tight, his mind a rush of don't touch it don't touch it don't touch it.
Felix stood motionless, arm still outstretched. Only his voice moved, calm but weighted.
"Time's running out, Leo."
Leo flinched at the sound. "I—I can't."
"You must."
He shook his head violently. "I don't even know what it is!"
Felix's eyes narrowed. "You do. Somewhere inside, you've always known."
The hum in the room deepened, a low vibration that crawled through the floor. Leo glanced around in panic — the faint glow of the machines, the dull metal walls, everything felt charged, waiting for something to happen.
"What's happening?" he demanded.
Felix turned his gaze toward the ceiling, as if listening to something only he could hear. "They've found you."
The words froze Leo where he stood. "What?"
"Kagami," Felix said. "They've been tracking the pulse your body emits since you woke. They know the energy source is active again — they'll come for it, and for you."
Leo's pulse jumped, a beat too fast. "You're lying."
"I don't have time to lie," Felix snapped, stepping closer. "You think I'd risk exposing this place if it weren't true? Your grandfather's research didn't die with him. They rebuilt it. They just can't replicate you."
Leo stumbled back until his shoulder hit the wall. "Why me? Why can't you just destroy it?"
"Because it won't let me," Felix said. "He built it to reject anyone else. It's bound to your signature—your rhythm. That irregular heartbeat of yours? That's it trying to find its match."
Leo's hand went instinctively to his chest. The throb there had returned — that uneven, foreign pulse echoing beneath his ribs.
Felix lowered his voice. "It's already begun, Leo. You can't stop it now. The only choice left is whether you control it or it controls you."
Leo stared at the glowing Bracelet, the reflection of its light rippling over his fingers. "If I take it… what happens to me?"
Felix's expression didn't change. "You survive."
"And if I don't?"
Felix met his eyes — steady, unblinking. "Then Kagami will find you first. And they won't be as gentle as I am."
The silence that followed felt heavy enough to crush air itself.
Leo's throat closed. He wanted to run, to scream, to wake up in a world that made sense. But the hum beneath his skin wouldn't stop — and the Bracelet's glow pulsed in perfect rhythm with it, waiting, patient, like something alive that had already chosen him.
Felix extended his hand once more. "Decide, Leo. Right now. You don't have long."
Leo's fingers twitched. He looked down at the metal band, its light pulsing like a heartbeat he couldn't escape.
The air felt too dense to breathe. The hum of the chamber deepened, vibrating through the floor, through Leo's bones. Felix hadn't moved — his arm still outstretched, the Bracelet glowing in his palm like a living thing.
Leo's hand hovered above it, trembling. His heartbeat hammered faster and faster until each pulse seemed to echo through the metal walls.
He whispered, "I don't want this."
Felix's answer was quiet, almost compassionate. "No one ever does."
The words sank deep. Something in Leo's chest shifted — fear mixing with a strange, sharp certainty that this was already happening whether he wanted it or not. He reached out.
The moment his fingertips brushed the metal, the light flared.
A flash — white, searing, blinding. The air roared like a storm had erupted inside the room. Leo staggered back, gasping, but the Bracelet shot from Felix's hand, alive, twisting midair before slamming around Leo's wrist with a metallic snap.
"Felix!" he shouted, trying to pull it off, but the band was tightening.
His skin burned where it touched. Then came the pain — deep, electric, sinking straight into his veins. The glow spread up his arm in thin threads of light, racing beneath his skin like veins of molten glass.
He screamed.
Felix was suddenly beside him, steadying him by the shoulders. "Don't fight it!"
Leo couldn't hear him — only the rush of blood and the hum that now filled his skull. His vision fractured into flashes: the lab's lights flickering, the walls warping, the reflection of his own eyes rimmed in blue.
"It's aligning!" Felix's voice cut through, half shout, half command. "Breathe, Leo—breathe!"
But Leo couldn't. Every breath came like a surge of electricity. The light climbed higher — from his wrist to his shoulder, his throat, his chest — until it felt like his entire body was trying to reject itself.
Then, as suddenly as it began, the energy shifted inward. The light folded into him, collapsing in on itself.
Leo dropped to his knees, clutching his wrist. The metal band had vanished. The pain didn't.
The light died slowly, shrinking to a faint shimmer beneath Leo's skin before vanishing completely. The room fell still again — the air heavy, the silence immense.
Leo stayed on his knees, palms pressed to the floor. His breath came in short bursts, every muscle trembling. His wrist still throbbed, heat pulsing from inside rather than out.
Felix crouched beside him, the edges of his coat brushing the ground. "Breathe," he said quietly. "It's over."
Leo did, though each breath felt wrong, like his lungs were learning to move again. He stared at his wrist. Nothing there — no burn, no scar, just a faint silver ring beneath the skin that pulsed once every few seconds, in perfect time with his heartbeat.
"What did you—" His voice cracked. He swallowed hard, forcing the words out. "What did you do to me?"
Felix's expression didn't change. "I didn't do anything. You did. You accepted it."
Leo looked up sharply. "I didn't want to!"
Felix stood, walking a few steps away, his tone even. "It doesn't care what you want. It cares that you're compatible. That's all your grandfather left behind — a vessel that only you could fill."
Leo forced himself to his feet, swaying slightly. His skin still buzzed, like static beneath the surface. "Why would he do this to me?"
Felix paused. "Because he trusted you."
"Trusted me with what?"
"With something too dangerous to destroy."
The words hung there, heavy, final.
Leo looked down at his wrist again, then at the faint flicker of light from the nearest console. The room no longer felt like a lab — it felt like a tomb.
He took a shaky step toward Felix. "You said they're coming for me."
Felix nodded. "They will. Kagami doesn't forgive. And they don't fail twice."
Leo's pulse quickened. "Then help me take it off. Get rid of it."
"You can't." Felix's voice was soft, but there was no mercy in it. "It's not attached — it's part of you now."
Leo's stomach turned. He pressed his hand against his wrist as though he could force it out by will alone. Nothing. The faint rhythm stayed, steady, alien.
Felix's expression eased just enough to show fatigue. "You need to rest. Your body will need time to adjust. Go home. Say nothing. To anyone."
Leo blinked at him. "You think I can just—just go home after that?"
"Yes," Felix said simply. "And come back tomorrow. We'll begin your training."
Leo stared at him, disbelief sharpening into anger. "You expect me to—"
"I expect you to live," Felix interrupted. His eyes, dark and unblinking, caught the fading light. "And if you want to, you'll do as I say."
The hum of the machines filled the silence again.
Leo looked down at his wrist one last time. The glow had almost disappeared. For a second, he could pretend it was gone. That it was all a dream.
But his heartbeat betrayed him. It wasn't his own anymore.
The stairwell swallowed his footsteps.
Each one sounded too loud, echoing up through the narrow shaft as he climbed. The door at the top groaned open, spilling him into the empty hallway. The lights had been dimmed; the world felt hours older.
Leo turned back once. The metal door to the basement was shut again, perfectly seamless, as if it had never opened. No sound. No trace of the blue light.
His hand brushed his wrist. Warm. The faint ring beneath the skin pulsed, invisible to sight but impossible to ignore.
He forced his sleeve down and walked.
The corridors stretched long and silent, lockers gleaming faintly in the dying fluorescent light. Every small sound—the buzz of a light, the click of a pipe—made him flinch. When he finally stepped outside, the cold hit him in the face. Rain had started, a soft drizzle darkening the concrete.
He breathed in the wet air like it was proof he was still alive.
The streets were mostly empty. A few headlights passed, their reflections slicing across puddles. Leo kept to the sidewalk, his hood pulled up, his bag clutched against him though it felt almost absurd now—homework and notebooks inside, as if any of that mattered.
Halfway home, the pulse under his skin changed.
It quickened, syncopated, like something mechanical trying to mimic his heartbeat and failing. The sensation crawled up his arm, into his shoulder, then vanished again, leaving a numb chill in its place.
He stopped under a streetlight, panting. The rain glistened on his sleeve. For an instant—only an instant—he saw light leaking through the fabric. A faint silver flicker. Then it was gone.
Leo pressed his wrist against his chest, whispering to himself, "It's not real."
But the rhythm answered, dull and certain. Thum-thum.Thum-thum. Not pain, not warmth—presence.
By the time he reached home, the windows of his house were dark except for the kitchen light his mother always left on. Everything looked normal. Ordinary.
He slipped quietly inside, toes brushing the mat to muffle sound. His parents' voices murmured faintly from upstairs. He didn't want to face them. Not yet.
In his room, he shut the door and leaned against it, breathing hard. His clothes were damp, his pulse still uneven. He peeled back his sleeve.
The faint ring glowed once.
Just once—then faded again.
He stood there staring, his reflection in the window faint and blurred by rain, watching himself as if seeing a stranger's arm. The hum beneath his skin matched the ticking of his clock for a few seconds, then overtook it.
When he finally lay down, he couldn't close his eyes. Every time his pulse shifted, he thought he heard it whisper back—an echo deeper than breath.
He turned his wrist away, pressing it against the mattress. But the warmth remained, alive and waiting.
Outside, the rain fell harder.
Inside, Leo counted the beats until he stopped being sure which ones were his.