The rain had eased by afternoon, leaving the campus soaked and silver.Umbrellas dotted the walkways like wilted flowers. Hana moved quickly, clutching the sealed vial of Lilith's blood against her chest as though it could vanish if she hesitated.
Dr. Renji's office sat at the far end of the corridor — a small fortress of books, beakers, and the smell of strong coffee. He was the kind of mentor who believed that curiosity was holy, and fear was an infection to be cut out.
He looked up when she entered. "You look like you wrestled a storm and lost."
"I might have," Hana said, forcing a weak smile. "I need your help analyzing a blood sample."
He leaned back in his chair, eyebrow raised. "Another sleepless project?"
"Something like that," she said, handing him the vial.
Renji held it to the light. "Strange hue. Contaminated?"
"That's the thing," she said quietly. "It isn't."
He moved to the centrifuge, setting up with practiced ease. "Source?"
"A patient," Hana said. The word stuck in her throat. "Found her last night after hours. She was bleeding, but… she shouldn't have been alive."
Renji glanced at her over his shoulder. "You're being vague."
"I don't know how to explain it," she said. "You'll see."
Minutes passed in silence except for the soft hum of the machine and the rhythmic tick of the clock. Hana stood by the window, watching the rain slide down the glass.
Renji frowned at the monitor. "That's… odd."
Hana turned. "What do you see?"
He tapped the screen. "The protein structure's unstable — it keeps reforming. And this—" He zoomed in on a magnified cell. "It's reacting to the ambient temperature. Look."
The cells pulsed faintly with light.
Hana felt her throat tighten. "You see it too."
Renji's expression shifted — from fascination to calculation. "This isn't any blood I've seen. Not animal, not human. You said this was from a patient? Where is she?"
"She left." Hana's hands tightened. "I think she was scared."
Renji shut off the monitor. "Then so should you be."
The sudden seriousness in his tone made Hana's stomach drop.He turned toward her fully, voice low. "There are programs that deal with anomalies like this — research departments you don't want attention from. If this is what I think it is, you didn't find a patient, Hana. You found a problem someone else lost."
"I can't just ignore it," she said.
"That's exactly what you should do," Renji replied, too quickly.
For a moment, she thought she saw fear in his eyes — not for her, but for himself.
"I'll take the sample," he said finally. "Run a full analysis tonight."
"No." She stepped back, clutching the vial. "I'll handle it."
Renji sighed, rubbing his temples. "You're too much like me when I was your age — always looking for answers that don't want to be found."
Hana forced a smile, slipping the vial into her coat pocket. "Then maybe that's why you hired me."
He didn't smile back.
As she left his office, thunder rumbled again in the distance.Halfway down the hall, she paused — feeling a flicker of movement in her pocket. The vial vibrated, faintly, in rhythm with her pulse.
When she looked down, the liquid inside shimmered once more — and for just a second, she thought she saw it flash like an eye opening.
She didn't tell Renji. She just walked faster, heart pounding, every step echoing down the corridor like a heartbeat chasing her from behind.