FLASHBACK — NEWFANGLED
"I'm not going to present it? Why?"
Her voice cracked as she clutched the folder tighter against her chest, standing in front of her superior's desk.
The plaque read: Doctor Frank Davidson.
"Do you want your project to proceed or not?" His tone was flat, as if he were commenting on the weather. There was no presence of guilt or remorse.
Evah clenched her jaw, fighting back the tears burning behind her eyes, fury twisting in her chest.
"I made that! For years no one helped me!" She collapsed into the chair, the folder slipping to her lap. Her gaze fell to the floor. That was all she could bear to look at.
Steps approached. A heavy hand patted her back. Davidson, middle-aged, wearing his same fake, sympathetic smile.
"I know, Miss Arsenault. I've seen your potential from day one," he crooned.
She hated that voice. Sweet only when he wanted something. Disgusting.
"I wanted to present it to the board!" She turned, eyes wet, trembling with determination. "The Oracle is mine. My project!"
Her tears betrayed her again. Anger, fear, hope—everything leaked out so easily. She despised that weakness.
Davidson walked slowly around the desk and sat opposite her, folding his hands.
"You know we can't allow that."
"Why not? This is my project!" She slammed the folder onto the desk, the pages spilling open.
There it was—her invention. A coin-sized device outlined in blue.
"You don't have a Medical License," Davidson snapped, the mask slipping. Impatience and mockery sharpened his words.
The air froze around her.
"You don't have one, do you?" He leaned closer, voice dripping with disdain.
"You're not even allowed to practice medicine."
"That's not true," she whispered, though the words felt brittle.
"You're just an originator. Nothing special. Know your place." He straightened, pacing back toward his chair.
Her throat tightened, rage clawing inside her chest.
"But what you did was… very special," he continued, false warmth creeping back into his tone. He gathered the scattered pages neatly, like it was his idea to protect them.
"It'll save lives. Yes. But tell me—do you want to save people, or do you want your name on a plaque?"
The weight of a thousand stones crashed onto her chest. Her sleepless nights, her perseverance—burned to ash in minutes.
And somehow why does it feel like she was the bad one?
"Do you want me to ask again?" His voice dropped, stiff, dangerous.
Evah's hands trembled inside her pockets. Nails dug into her palms until pain replaced the ache in her heart. It felt like a gun pressed to her skull. Cold. Mocking.
"Proceed," she muttered, her voice cracking. "Please… proceed."
"Smart girl." His smirk widened. "Sign this, then get out."
Her pen scraped the paper with trembling strokes.
PRESENT — CGO LABORATORY
A hand on her shoulder pulled her back.
She blinked—no longer in Davidson's office, no longer powerless.
Doctor Riko stood behind her, eyes warm with concern. "Are you okay, Miss Evah?"
That's right… I'm in the Grand Covenant Order now.
Her gaze swept the lab, grounding herself: the hum of machines, the faint medicinal scent, and her desk. Chief Assistant to the Head of Innovation—her name carved clearly on the plaque.
"Yes. I'm alright," she said quickly, forcing a smile.
"You're sure?" Riko tilted his head, spinning the fidget ring. The sound was oddly soothing.
"Yes, Doctor."
"Good." His expression softened. "You were studying Erion's condition, right?" He tapped on his tablet, scrolling.
Evah stiffened. "…Yes."
"Don't worry, I'm not stopping you," he chuckled. That laugh lifted the weight on her chest.
The doctor was always good at reading people, something she'd only realized recently.
"Here—some files I've compiled. I'll transfer them to you now."
"But don't tell Erion okay?" He grinned, too friendly to be a superior she thought.
Her heart swelled with gratitude. She stood and bowed. "Thank you so much, Doctor!"
"Hey, don't bow like that! Makes me feel old." He waved it off, smiling.
"Also, why don't you get your medical license while you're at it? It would help a lot in accrediting your work."
The words landed heavier than they should have, striking right where her scars still lingered. That paper. That single piece of paper was the reason her projects had never been credited to her.
"I—" She froze, unease tightening her chest.
Her chest was constricted. That cursed certificate. The reason she had been denied. Little by little, the weight of the past loosened its grip as the lab's quiet hum sank into her. Still, she couldn't stay silent forever. Leaving Doctor Riko waiting would only feel rude. She forced her lips to move, even if her voice lagged behind her heart.
"I see you're busy, don't worry about—" Doctor Riko began, but she quickly cut him off.
"No, that's not it. It's just…" Her eyes dropped, drifting toward the photo frame of her family on the corner of her desk. "…It's too expensive." She forced a crooked smile. "I can't really afford something like that."
"Oh, that?" Riko waved a hand casually. "Just go to Erion. He can request it under the CGO."
Evah stared at him, waiting for the punchline, the little grin that would tell her he was only joking. But it never came.
"It's true. Do you want me to talk to him about it?" His tone was steady, reassuring.
"No, no, I'll…" Her throat tightened.
Erion. . . I did just tell him to shut up last time. She reminisced about her actions, even regretting some.
"I'll ask. Thank you, Doctor. Really—thank you for telling me." She bowed deeply, almost desperately.
Riko quickly reached out, gently holding her shoulders and lifting her back up. He shook his head firmly.
"No, no, and no. Don't do that again, Evah," he said, his voice lightly scolding, even a little offended.
Evah couldn't help but laugh softly, trying to mask the heaviness pressing on her heart.
The doctor—he really was a ray of sunshine in her darkness.