He hadn't remembered falling asleep, only came into the realization when the world around him morphed, colors bleeding into pale light, and sounds echoing as though he was submerged underwater.
He stood in the old kitchen of their house: younger here, smaller, wearing the too-big shirt his aunt used to fuss about. The smell of boiling soup lingered in the air, warm and familiar. "Han-kyum," a gentle woman's voice called.
He turned.
His mother stood by the counter, smiling the soft smile he barely remembered. Her features were bright at first, then blurred at the edges, as if the dream was struggling to keep her together.
"You're up early," she said.
Han-kyum frowned. He wasn't supposed to be here, and this place no longer existed.
"Mom?" His voice cracked, and suddenly he felt like a child again.
She walked closer, wiping her hands on a towel.
The movement was unnaturally smooth, dreamlike, too perfect. She cupped his cheeks the way she used to.
"You look tired," she whispered, "you're working so hard.
"I… I have to," he said, though he wasn't sure why he was answering. "People depend on me."
His mother's smile dimmed.
"Don't lose yourself, Han-kyum." Her voice wavered, as if dissolving. "Don't carry everything alone."
The kitchen lights flickered.
Han-kyum reached out to grab her wrist, but his hand passed right through, like touching fog.
"Mom—wait—"
Her figure faded, colors draining until she was naught but a silhouette.
"You're doing your best," she said, the last words breaking apart like static. "And I'm proud of you."
The room went dark. The warmth was gone. Only her voice remained, echoing, until even that vanished.
Then—
A loud vibration. The dream shattered.
Han-kyum awoke with a gasp in his apartment, his heart racing while his mother's warmth still clung to him like smoke.
The apartment sat in darkness, just a faint glow from the city slipping through the curtains. His phone lit up on the nightstand: 3:00 AM. His heart thudded in his chest he couldn't shake the dream. It clung to him, cold and close.
He still heard his mother's voice in his head: "Don't lose yourself… You're doing your best… I'm proud of you." He just sat there for a while, staring at the floor. His breathing came rough and uneven. "…Mom," he whispered, hand pressed to his eyes.
The tightness in his chest shifted. It wasn't fear, not really. Not sadness, either. It felt like something else, something pushing him toward… something. He let out a shaky breath and reached for the old notebook by his bed. The thing was crammed with formulas, scribbles, half-finished ideas. That stuff didn't matter tonight. He flipped to a blank page. The pen in his hand almost felt warm, like it'd been waiting for him. His thoughts were scattered, messy.
Didn't matter. He started writing anyway quick, frantic, half-formed equations, bits of chemical chains, wild possibilities that didn't link up yet. He wasn't following any plan. Wasn't running calculations or double-checking numbers.
He just moved, pulled by something raw and instinctive. It felt like it had crawled out of the dream with him. Before he even caught himself, he was sketching combinations mixing, shifting, breaking the rules, creating something that really shouldn't work. But somehow, it started to make sense.
"Why am I even—" He shook his head, still scribbling. "This is stupid. None of this should—" But his hand just kept going. Symbols, notes, arrows everywhere.
A formula started to form, right in the middle of the mess. He finally stopped, chest tight, and looked down at the page. It wasn't perfect. Wasn't even logical, honestly.
But it was new. Nothing like what he'd written before. Han-kyum leaned back against the headboard, staring at the mess he'd made. He couldn't say why, but it didn't feel random. Like his mother's voice was more than just a dream. Like something buried inside him had finally cracked open. He whispered into the dark, "…What are you trying to tell me, Mom?" No answer, of course. But the notebook in his lap felt heavier than ever.
Han-kyum snapped the notebook shut, but the scribbles wouldn't quit replaying in his mind. His fingers twitched. He needed to do something anything to quiet the restlessness.
He tried lying down. Closed his eyes. That formula kept pounding at him, stubborn as ever, like a second heartbeat. "Ugh… fine," he muttered, giving up. He pushed himself up, swung his legs off the bed, and padded over to the little table by the window—his not-quite-official workspace. Most nights it just gathered dust,
but not tonight. He flicked on the desk lamp. A dull, warm light spilled across the clutter: containers, droppers, leftover test kits from the lab, samples he was definitely not supposed to have brought home.
Nothing dangerous, really. Just bits and pieces. He didn't plan on inventing anything groundbreaking. Not here, not now, not when the clock read 3:07 AM. He just wanted to test a thought. See if it had any teeth. He opened the notebook, shoving aside the mess to make space. His hand hovered over the tools.
"This is stupid," he whispered, but he didn't even convince himself. Carefully, he started piecing together parts of the formula. Nothing drastic. Just enough to check if his idea held up. A drop here. A stir there.
The color shifted a tiny, subtle change, but it was real. Han-kyum's eyes went wide. "That shouldn't have reacted," he breathed. A jolt ran through him equal parts fear and awe.
He leaned in, watching the mixture settle. This wasn't something big. Nowhere close. But it was something. Something none of the records said should happen. Something his dream his mother had nudged him toward. He swallowed, heart thumping loud in his chest. "…What are you?" he whispered to the faint glow in the dish. He lost track of time. Didn't notice how his hands shook with every careful step.
He just knew one thing He couldn't stop now. Not when he'd tripped over something new. Something that mattered. And for the first time since the outbreak started,
Han-kyum stared at the chemical mixture on his desk.
He'd thrown it together last night barely awake, nerves shot, running on pure emotion. He actually thought about taking it to the lab. For a few seconds, anyway.
But then he remembered yesterday. The weird silence. Tools out of place. Jae-Heon's face, pale and unsteady. And Mrs. Jana—still gone. His fingers tightened.
Something was off. Someone had eyes on the lab. And whatever he'd just made? No way was he letting anyone else near it. "Yeah, nope. Not happening,"
he said under his breath. He got up fast, snatching the vial and the ripped notebook page. Crossed the apartment in a few strides. On top of his dresser, he kept this plain wooden box full of junk, mostly. Old USBs, dead pens, faded receipts, little trinkets he never used. He popped the lid. Old paper smell, faint but sharp.
He dug around, made a spot in one corner. Set the vial there. Folded the notebook page up tight and slid it underneath. He let out a breath. Shaky, all tension. Closed the box. Kept his hand there for a second, like he could trap the whole idea inside, keep it hidden.
"There," he whispered. "No one's finding that." He shoved the box back in its usual spot, lost in the chaos on his dresser. Just another useless thing. Nothing special.
Nothing to notice. But even then, dread crept up his back. Somewhere in his head, a voice asked: What if they already know? Han-kyum swallowed, scanning his dim apartment, waiting for someone to step out of the dark. He pressed his palms to his face. "…Please, let me be paranoid."
But honestly, the silence in the room didn't feel like paranoia at all.
Han-kyum dropped onto the edge of his bed, shoulders slumped. His hands still trembled a bit from handling the vial and the notebook.
The apartment felt too quiet, almost like the silence had weight and was pressing in on him. He shut his eyes for a second. Just breathe. You're okay. Nobody knows. You're alone. But his mother's voice from the dream wouldn't leave him alone. Don't lose yourself… I'm proud of you… He dragged a hand through his hair and muttered, "Why does it already feel like I've messed up?"
Nothing answered him. The place stayed silent, except for the distant city hum drifting through the window. Meanwhile, his mind wouldn't quit. What if someone's actually watching? Maybe I'm not as invisible as I think. He leaned back, staring at the ceiling, letting the dark fill up the room. Fear and hope and all that pressure tangled up in his chest, tight and uncomfortable.
I can't let this go. I won't. His breath came out shaky. He whispered into the emptiness, "I'll be ready. Doesn't matter what happens." Even as he said it, he knew deep down this was just the start.
The mixture, the notebook, the secret they weren't just things. They meant something. They were a decision. And no matter how careful he tried to be, someone was bound to notice sooner or later.
Han-kyum pulled the blanket up around his shoulders and sat there, listening to the night stretch out. Tomorrow, I have to go back to the lab. I can't screw up. Not even once.
Han-kyum sat cross-legged on his bed, phone pressed to his ear. The early morning light barely made it through the window, leaving everything gray and half-awake.
He could hear his own heartbeat, too loud for this hour. Yang's voice came through, a little groggy but familiar. "Han-kyum? You sound… off. Did you pull another all-nighter?" "I wish it was just that,"
Han-kyum said, rubbing his eyes.
"Listen, I, uh… I need to talk to you about something. It's kind of a lot."
Yang's tone shifted, that gentle seriousness he always had when things got real.
"Hey, you can tell me anything. You know that."
For a second, Han-kyum almost bailed. Just say you're tired, he thought. Just joke about coffee and hang up. But that old honesty between them dragged the truth out anyway.
"I… you've seen the news, right? About the virus?"
Yang made a little noise half sigh, half laugh.
"Yeah. Hard to miss. But honestly, over here in Australia it's all rumors and panic. People buying out toilet paper like it's gold. What's really going on?"
Han-kyum hesitated, staring at a crack in the ceiling.
"It's bad, Yang. Like, not just news-bad. Real bad. They found this thing Neisseria meningitidis, but it's mutated. It spreads crazy fast. Headaches, fever, confusion… then it hits your brain. You can die in a day if you don't catch it." Yang went quiet. "Wait, for real? Isn't that the stuff that causes meningitis? I thought they had vaccines."
"Usually, yeah. But this strain's different. And it's not just the virus, Yang it's what happened earlier morning, i have a nightmare and dreamed, and i just screwed up. I was tired, I mixed something wrong, and now… I think something's missing. Some vials. And Jae-Heon he looked like hell this morning. Mrs. Jana's still gone. I don't know if it's connected, but it feels like it."
A long pause. Han-kyum could almost see Yang rubbing his face, trying to make sense of it. "Damn, Kyum. That's… heavy. Are you okay? Like, really?"
"I don't know," Han-kyum admitted. "I can't bring it up at the lab too risky. I've got this knot in my stomach. I keep thinking somebody saw me, or maybe they're watching. I feel like I messed up, and now people are in danger."
Yang's voice dropped, more serious than usual. "You always beat yourself up, man. But you're not careless. Never have been. If you think something's wrong, trust that gut of yours. And, look, you're not alone in this. Even if I'm miles away. I've got your back." Han-kyum almost laughed, but it came out as a sigh. "Tssk you sound like my mom." "Hey, someone's gotta keep you alive. Just… be careful, okay? If something's missing and people are sick, you need to tell someone you trust. Not just me." "Yeah. I know. I just… needed to hear your voice. Needed to say it out loud."
Yang let out a breath. "Anytime. Seriously. And, Kyum… promise me you'll eat something today? You sound like you're running on fumes. And don't do anything wild, not without at least texting me first."
Han-kyum managed a small smile. "I promise. No solo hero stuff. I'll text you before I do anything… questionable." "That's all I ask. And hey, if you need to, call again. Doesn't matter what time. I'll pick up."
"Thanks, Yang. Really." "Always, man. Now go try not to blow up the lab, yeah?" Han-kyum snorted, shaking his head. "No promises." They both laughed, and for a moment, the fear faded.
But when Han-kyum hung up, the room felt cold again. He stared at his hands. The secret pressed in on him from all sides. He wasn't alone but whatever came next, he had to face it head-on.
Han-kyum he dragged himself in the bed and started stretching. Pale morning light crept in, just bright enough to chase the shadows out of his apartment. Gotta get ready. Settle down. Focus. He jumped in the shower kept it short, just enough to shake off the last bits of sleep.
Water ran down his back, washing away some of the anxiety that clung to him from last night. Still, his mind kept circling back to the hidden vial, the notebook, those warnings from Yang. No mistakes. Not today.
He pulled on his clothes nothing fancy, just whatever felt comfortable, easy to move in.
Swung his bag over his shoulder. Checked the box on his dresser one more time. Still tucked away. Still safe. That tiny comfort let him breathe a little easier, he wore the facemask.
He skipped the bus and cut through the quieter backstreets of Seoul, steering clear of the crowds. His footsteps echoed against the pavement. Cold air stung his cheeks. The city was awake, but almost quiet, like everyone was moving a little faster, eyes down, all of them feeling the same silent threat hanging over everything. I can't let anyone see what I've done. Not yet.
The lab building stood up ahead, all clean lines and glass shining in the pale light. Han-kyum walked in, eyes moving across the lobby.
The low buzz of machines and computers drifted over. He let out a breath. Something's off today. Not bad, just… off. He swiped his ID and pushed into the main lab.
The quiet hung there, but it didn't feel heavy like yesterday. There was something else in the air—a kind of nervous energy, sharp and alive.
Jae-Heon was already at his desk, flipping through his notes. He looked up, caught Han-kyum's eye, and managed a crooked little smile. "Morning," Jae-Heon said, voice low. "You look like you barely slept." Han-kyum lifted one shoulder and tried to smile back. "Morning. Didn't really sleep much." Jae-Heon nodded.
"Yeah, I figured. Don't worry, though. You're not on your own today. Mrs. Jana's still out, but Gael and I—we've got you." That did it.
Just a few words, but Han-kyum felt a warmth spread through his chest. Made it easier to breathe. Easier to focus.
Han-kyum slipped into the lab, gloves already on, still catching his breath from that shortcut he took. The sharp scent of antiseptic and chemicals hit him a weird kind of comfort, honestly.
At least here, he knew the rules, even if everything else felt upside down. He dropped his bag, scanned the bench. Everything in its place. Samples lined up, same as always. Nothing out of order. Except wait.
Something glimmered. One vial, tucked between the others, looking harmless but… off. The reaction inside it flickered, just for a second. Almost like it was blinking at him. His stomach flipped. He leaned in. I didn't do this. "Hello?" His voice barely cut through the hum of the equipment.
"Anyone here?" Nothing. Just the steady buzz of machines. Then Jae-Heon rounded the corner, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Kyum? What's up?" Han-kyum jabbed a finger at the vial.
"Look at this. The reaction's wrong. I didn't touch it." Jae-Heon peered closer. "Yeah, that's not in your notes. Did someone else come by?" "I… I don't know," Han-kyum said, gripping the table.
"I locked up yesterday. Nobody should've—" Someone's been here. Jae-Heon hesitated.
"You sure it isn't contamination?" Han-kyum shook his head, jaw set.
"No. Someone did this on purpose." Silence settled in, heavy. The machines kept humming, like the room was holding its breath. They really think they can mess with my work?
They have no idea who they're dealing with. His pulse hammered in his ears. "We check everything. Every vial. Every note." Jae-Heon nodded, already moving. "Yeah. Careful."
Han-kyum worked his way down the samples, scanning, double-checking. He couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching him even if it was just in his head. If they're out there, they know I saw it. I have to move fast. Stay sharp. He paused at another vial. Nothing weird yet. But that first one? It was a warning.
Someone knew what he could do, and they wanted to push him. Fine. Let them try. Han-kyum clenched his fists. I'll show them. The lab, quiet before, felt charged now. Like the air itself was waiting. And Han-kyum? He was right where he needed to be.
Han-kyum glanced around his workstation, checking everything one more time—samples lined up, notes stacked, calculations finished. He let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.
"That's it. I'm done for today," he muttered. Across the room, Jae-Heon rubbed his tired eyes and looked over. "You're heading out already? It's a little early, but honestly, you should get some rest." "
Yeah, I know. I need it," Han-kyum replied, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "But listen—keep an eye out for Mrs. Jana, will you? We still don't know where she is. I have to get home."
Jae-Heon's brow creased with concern. "Yeah, I'll talk to Gael and keep looking. Just go home and be safe, okay?" Han-kyum nodded, but couldn't help glancing around the lab again.
Everything looked normal, almost too normal. That's when he caught something out of the corner of his eye. Outside the glass doors—three people in black suits.
They wore sunglasses, perfectly pressed suits, standing still just beyond the entrance. Not talking. Not moving. Just there. Han-kyum's stomach twisted. Who are they? Why now? He tried to brush it off. "It's probably nothing," he whispered, but a chill crept up his back. Jae-Heon noticed.
"You alright, Kyum?" Han-kyum forced a quick smile. "Yeah… just tired." But he couldn't stop glancing at the figures outside.
They hadn't budged. They just watched. I need to get out of here. Now. He tightened his grip on his bag, checked his notes one last time, and made for the exit. In his head, he kept repeating: Jae-Heon, find Mrs. Jana. Make sure she's safe. I need to go home. The figures in black stood motionless.
Their presence made every step heavier, the air thicker. At the door, Han-kyum paused and looked back at Jae-Heon. "I'll… be careful." Jae-Heon nodded, offering a shaky smile.
"Just… get home safe, Kyum." Han-kyum pushed through the doors. Morning sunlight hit his face, but behind him, the glass reflected those dark silhouettes. Something's not right. Everything feels off.
The fact that Mrs. Jana hadn't shown up since yesterday. Nobody had a clue where she'd gone, or why she vanished. People kept calling her phone, but she never picked up. The staff kept whispering, all of them restless and anxious. Every hour without her made the lab feel heavier. Nobody knew what happened. Nobody even knew if she was okay.
and who knows?...
Han-kyum stepped out of the lab and the cold air hit him, sharp and real. The street felt empty—too empty. He gripped his bag tighter and glanced around, nerves prickling. Just go home, he told himself. There's nothing out here. That's when three men in black suits slipped out of the shadows. Sunglasses, blank faces, not a word.
Han-kyum's stomach dropped. "Come with us," one said, voice flat and steady.
Han-kyum took a step back. "wait what?" "No! I'm not going anywhere with you!" The guy didn't even blink. Two of them moved fast, grabbing his arms. "Let go! Stop! Hey!" Han-kyum yelled, thrashing, trying to wrench free.
His bag hit the ground, papers flying everywhere.
The third man pulled open a van door. Han-kyum fought harder, kicking, twisting, but their grip was solid—unyielding. "Come on, now," the first one said again, calm as ever. "
No! I won't—" But they shoved him inside and slammed the door. Darkness swallowed him. His breath came fast, heart hammering in his chest. The van jerked forward. Outside, the city stayed quiet, like nothing had happened. Inside the van, Han-kyum thought, I don't even know who these people are… or what they want with me.
The van rolled on, quiet except for the low hum of tires on the road.
Han-kyum's arms stayed pinned, his bag somewhere out of reach.
The dim light inside didn't offer a hint about where they were going. He pressed his forehead to the wall, cool against his skin, trying to slow his breath. Calm down. Just think. But his nerves wouldn't let up. Every muscle burned from fighting. His heart hammered so loud it drowned out his thoughts. Who are these people? Why me? Does this have something to do with the lab? Or Mrs. Jana? He closed his eyes for a second. His head slumped. Panic faded, replaced by a bone-deep exhaustion. His mind kept circling back flashes of the lab, those men in black, the van, city lights vanishing in the rearview. No, stay awake. Don't drift off. Just keep your eyes open. But he couldn't fight it forever. The tire noise, the constant shudder of the van, the endless motion it all dragged him down. Maybe if I rest for a second, just a second… His body let go a little. Thoughts broke apart, faces and moments blurring together the lab, black suits, the vial, Mrs. Jana. He drifted, caught between fear and sleep. The last thing he thought before giving in: I have to make it. I have to. And then he sank into darkness. Not the van, not the city, not the men in black just sleep, uneasy, full of questions he couldn't answer yet.
The van moved steadily, tires humming softly against the asphalt. Darkness pressed in around him. Han-kyum's body sagged against the seat, arms still restrained. His chest rose and fell unevenly, a quiet rhythm marking the remnants of panic.
Even in sleep, his mind refused to rest. Fragmented thoughts swirled—lab equipment, scattered papers, the black-suited men, Mrs. Jana's absence.
Where… where am I going?
Images flitted past his mind's eye: the glowing vials, the neat rows of chemicals, Jae-Heon's worried face. The hum of the tires, the slight sway of the van, merged with the faint memory of the morning sun hitting the lab's glass doors.
Did… did anyone see? Did… they know what I made?
His eyelids fluttered, heavy as if weighed down by the questions themselves. Sleep pulled him deeper, yet even in this haze, his thoughts clung to fragments of worry and fear.
I have to survive… I have to get home… I can't… I can't let them—
The rest dissolved into silence. Darkness embraced him fully. He slept, though not peacefully. His subconscious replayed the panic, the uncertainty, the shadows. Every thought a whisper, tangled in fear and exhaustion.
Somewhere in the haze, a single, lingering thought remained:
I have to… I have to… survive.
Someone opened the van doors, but Han-kyum didn't wake up. He just slumped there, limp and heavy, floating somewhere between being knocked out and barely coming to. They moved him. He felt hands gripping his arms, dragging him, shifting his weight. It was all distant,
fuzzy like he was watching someone else's body get hauled around. The sound of the van, the gentle rumble of wheels beneath him, faded out as they set him down. Something hard pressed into his feet. The air changed it was cooler now, thick, trapped.
He heard his own breath, echoing off nearby walls. His eyelids flickered, but he kept them closed. …room? The word drifted through his head, barely there. He noticed details hard floor under his shoes, a mat giving slightly beneath him, walls close enough for echoes but out of reach.
Everything blurred at the edges. He wasn't awake. Not really. …why… where… He tried to latch onto what happened before: the van, the street, the lab. Faces in black suits, the scuffle, cold metal, the slam of the door. Every memory slipped away as soon as he grabbed at it, breaking up into shards sunglasses flashing, hands pressing his arms, the van's floor, the sudden shut of the door.
Now he was here. Somewhere that wasn't the van, wasn't the street. The room felt quiet, but not in a good way. Not the kind of quiet that lets you breathe. This quiet pressed in, heavy, squeezing his chest, whispering that he wasn't alone.
A soft light hung overhead, weak, throwing long shadows across walls that felt too close. The air tasted metallic, or maybe that was just the memory of cold hands. He wanted to reach out, to touch something, to prove this was real, but his arms wouldn't move.
He was just so tired, every muscle limp. …hands… van… lab… His thoughts wandered, never settling. Every feeling, every fear, every memory tangled together. His body still thrummed with leftover adrenaline, tension coiled tight, even though sleep clung to him. He was here. He didn't know where. He didn't want to be.
Even with everything muffled and blurry, something inside him kept tugging, asking him to pay attention. …not the van… not the street… not home… His chest hitched with each breath. His mind drifted between dreams and the edge of waking, always searching looking for anything familiar,
anything that would tell him where he was. Nothing. Just quiet. Just darkness. Just that nagging feeling that he'd been taken somewhere else. So he stayed there, trapped between sleep and waking, caught in a fog of fear and confusion, feeling everything and nothing at once, waiting for something anything to happen.