"Primeval beasts roaring, thunderstorms raging, a hail of arrows piercing through—"
"AAHHH—!!"
With a raw, gut-wrenching scream, Jake jerked awake.
His eyes snapped open.
Water.
It was everywhere—he was completely submerged.
Instinctively, he gasped for air but choked instead. Panic seized him; his arms and legs flailed wildly, churning the water around him into a frantic whirl.
Then, an alarm blared through the chaos.
Almost instantly, the water around him seemed to come alive—swirling with purpose, supporting him with a firm yet gentle embrace.
He felt a slight prick at the base of his skull, like a mosquito bite.
A wave of cool clarity washed through him, and just like that—his terror melted into calm.
Jake stopped struggling, but his eyes stared blankly ahead as if devoid of all awareness.
Several minutes passed before his gaze finally began to focus again.
He looked around. He was in a pure white room—empty except for the large transparent tank holding him submerged in liquid.
Though fully immersed, he realized he could breathe without difficulty.
As consciousness gradually returned, so did his memory.
He remembered now: he was in St. Crescent General Hospital.
Almost two weeks had passed since the spatial anomaly incident. This was already the tenth time he had woken up like this.
Ever since I collapsed that day, it's always the same dream... and it feels so real!
He had no idea how he had survived. There wasn't a single burn or physical injury on his body.
But as his mind grew clearer, his breathing suddenly quickened again. His heart raced, and a wave of intense dizziness washed over him.
Why am I here?! How the hell am I gonna pay for this?!
Whoosh.
The door slid open and three figures entered.
The middle-aged man at the center gestured lightly in the air.
Another dose of sedative flowed into Jake's system. Then, a three-dimensional hologram flickered to life overhead—a detailed mapping of a human neural network.
The man made a few more subtle gestures, pulling up streams of intensely complex data.
After a moment of review, he nodded slightly and spoke:
"Jake. Stay calm, and don't overthink. First, you should be grateful you're alive. Secondly, your body's value has not yet exceeded the cost of your treatment."
His voice pierced clearly through the water and the tank, as though he were speaking right beside Jake's ear.
Another wave of cool clarity washed through him, steadying his nerves.
Jake glanced at the man's wrist—at the distinct emblem of a serpent coiled around a crescent moon—and then said via the neural link, "Thank you for your help, Doctor Lee."
"It may have been the spatial magnetic storm that affected your neural pathways."
Doctor Lee continued. "But fortunately, our latest scans show your brainwave activity is gradually stabilizing."
That symbol on Dr. Lee's wrist told Jake everything: he was in a hospital run by the Crescent Serpent Group.
Everyone knew them—their influence stretched across the Federation, their enterprises spanning both continents.
[Why was I brought to such a high-end hospital?]
His thoughts raced even as he replied, "Yes... this time when I woke up, the headache isn't as severe as before."
"Correct. Your episodes are also becoming less frequent. These are positive signs."
Doctor Lee acknowledged calmly. "Based on your current progress, my projections indicate you should be ready for discharge in approximately three days."
A flicker of hope lit in Jake's eyes. After being tormented by relentless headaches, nightmares, and looming financial dread, the news felt like a lifeline.
"Doctor Lee... while I was unconscious, did my mother come?"
He sighed softly. "I'm afraid not. We attempted to contact her as well. She may be securing funds for your treatment—after all, we are a private institution."
"Director, I feel fine now. I'd like to be discharged."
A faint smile touched the doctor's lips. "I understand what you're thinking, and how you feel. But discharge isn't your decision to make."
"But I...."
Doctor Lee gently raised a hand. "That's enough for now. Unless you have further questions—I have rounds to attend to."
Jake sighed in resignation, but with his mind clearer than before, curiosity got the better of him. "How are our teacher and the other students?"
Doctor Lee's expression turned grim.
"Your physics teacher suffered extensive burns and is still in critical condition. Your classmates are physically fine....like you, they experienced neural shock from the spatial disturbance, and none remember how they lost consciousness or how the anomaly ended... But their cases were less severe. They were discharged on the first day."
".…"
"Has the cause been identified?"
"Not yet. Five locations globally reported similar spatial disturbances. Official reports remain vague, though public speculation points to newly emerging spatial convergence points."
"Two occurred within human territory—one at your school, another in the Bering Strait. Your school has been sealed off. Some initially suspected the Bisolarans had deployed a localized spatial weapon, but Federal Intelligence later confirmed that three identical incidents also took place within Bisolarans-controlled zones."
Later, from news reports, Jake learned that a massive coronal mass ejection triggered by solar flares had caused extreme spatial magnetic storms and distortions that day.
It was said to be the most severe spatial storm in recorded history.
But that was merely the official narrative....Jake knew there had to be far more to the story, like always.
However, None of that mattered as much as one pressing reality, though....
His mother was still missing.
Ever since Jake could remember, it had always been just him and his mother.
Raising a child alone in the outer sectors of a sanctuary city was never easy....especially in these end times, where martial prowess was the most revered path for ordinary people to rise above their station.
But study and training in combat at school required substantial resources.
Jake and his mother used to live in a major city far from the front lines.
In his memories, his early childhood was still filled with warmth and happiness, and his mother hadn't been so worn out back then.
But at some point, something changed....their family's situation grew steadily worse.
After a few unexpected setbacks, life became increasingly difficult.
Eventually, on a friend's recommendation, they moved to this place known as No. 79, a sanctuary city on the front lines of the conflict between humanity and the Bisolarans.
His mother told him there would be more opportunities here, a chance to earn more.
A sense of foreboding rose in Jake's chest.
He desperately wanted to leave the hospital as soon as possible, hoping that by the time he was discharged, his mother would already be home, or show up in here.
But on the day of his release, she still hadn't appeared. Jake left the hospital alone.
carrying a new medical debt agreement.
If he failed to repay on time, his debt would be sold to the Reserve Armed Forces Division.
And his body would no longer be his own.
------
Doctor Lee stood behind a man in military uniform, both gazing down through the floor-to-ceiling window at Jake's retreating figure.
"Sir, Jake's vitals are stable. We have to discharge him at this stage as all dates are synchronized to federal database."
The officer gave a slight nod. "Archive all his biometrics—blood work, organ compatibility profiles, everything. For the next two years, unless he dies out there, you are to keep him alive. Fail, and you will answer with your life."
He paused, then added coolly, "As for his medical fees… feel free to inflate them moderately. Within… manageable limits without notice, of course."
Dr. Lee's heart skipped a beat. Swallowing his unease, he ventured, "Sir, Jake is just an outer-sector kid. How could he possibly….?"
The officer turned without answering and walked toward the door. Just before exiting, he threw back a final command:
"This comes from higher authorities. Do not ask questions that aren't yours to ask. And if he fails to repay his debt on time, seize his body immediately. No debt transfers—no exceptions."
Left alone in the fading evening light, Dr. Lee could only stare blankly out the window, his mind racing with unanswered questions.