Dante sat on Helios' couch in the lab, flipping through the papers laid out before him. Since the incident with Davis, he had been forbidden from leaving Helios' side. This meant that he now inevitably spent all his time in Helios' proximity, always in the lab, never again standing outside the door where he had once kept watch with Davis. He was no longer just a simple shield, standing at the right place at the right time. No, he had become much more—a personal protector, an extension of Helios himself. Or should he say it like this: he was now doing the exact task he had originally been hired for?
After all, it had always been Vale's plan to place him at Helios' side, as a constant companion, ready to jump between Helios and any attacker at any given moment. This proximity had now become indispensable. Dante could not complain about the situation. After all, this state allowed him the opportunity to finally continue working on his own case, and he had more than enough time to dive into Helios' reports. Even though Helios himself was firmly convinced that Dante would never find anything useful in them. He had told him more than once that he had never worked on anything that could make someone immortal.
But Dante wasn't discouraged. He had to keep himself occupied somehow. If he spent the whole day watching Helios mix and analyze chemical substances, he would probably just fall asleep eventually. So, he clung to the reports with determination, even though he knew that he was unlikely to find answers that would lead him any further.
It was the first day after Helios' mandatory break, following the incident where Dante had nearly killed him. Helios had been looking forward to returning to the lab, but instead of working, he sat there, watching Dante as he struggled through the papers. His gaze was sharp and penetrating, as though he were trying to peer directly into Dante's soul, searching for an answer to questions that perhaps no one could answer. Dante felt increasingly uncomfortable under that intense gaze. Restlessly, he tried to find a more comfortable position and turned back to the reports, but his gaze kept wandering back to Helios.
Helios took a sip from his coffee cup and leaned back in his chair. He crossed his legs and smiled a cool, calculating smile. His posture no longer showed any trace of the grief he had felt after Davis' death. It was as if Davis had never died. The pain that had been deeply etched into Helios' features after Davis' passing had disappeared. In his demeanor, there was no longer any sign of the sorrow he had carried just a few days ago. Before Dante sat the same Helios he had met on his first day—the always controlled, always cool, sarcastic scientist.
"Let me kill you again," Helios suddenly said. His voice was still hoarse, but it sounded clearer than it had a few days ago. The marks of strangulation on his neck were no longer as visible, and it was obvious that he had recovered from the incident. Perhaps even more than that.
Two weeks had passed since Davis' death, and during that time, Helios had more or less secluded himself in his room. Dante had not been welcome in his presence. The two had barely spoken, and Helios had sought his own quiet space. Dante could vividly imagine the nights Helios spent behind closed doors. The soft, stifled sobs that sometimes reached his ears still haunted him. But now, Helios seemed to have stabilized. It almost seemed as though he had completely overcome the loss—or at least that's how it appeared on the surface. Dante, however, could not entirely believe it.
Helios' behavior in this regard was anything but normal. His seemingly complete handling of the loss intimidated Dante, because something about this facade of invulnerability felt wrong. Helios didn't carry his grief like a human being, but rather like a man who imagined he could simply lay it aside, as if it had never existed.
Dante looked at him more closely. Was it really that easy to recover? Was it really possible for someone to make their heart vanish into the darkness so quickly?
Dante had actually expected that, after Davis' death, Helios would immediately begin the search for the murderer. But to his surprise, Helios was unusually calm, almost too calm. It was as if he already knew who was behind the murder. It was as if he wasn't going to act immediately, but instead was waiting, observing the situation calmly—like a predator, patiently waiting for the right moment to strike with a fatal blow.
Dante couldn't decipher Helios' behavior. What was going on in his head? Why was he so composed, instead of being overwhelmed with anger or grief? Once again, Dante wished Davis were still alive. He would have known what Helios was thinking, and would have explained it to him with his usual ease, making it something Dante could understand. It was the simplicity with which Davis always found the right words in difficult moments that Dante missed so much.
Since Helios had not wanted him near in the past few weeks, Dante had been busy with his training. He had talked with Maxwell about Davis, hearing many stories about him. Dante had already known that Davis was a capable man, but the stories Maxwell told him opened up a completely new perspective. They weren't just heroic stories; they were also humorous and sad anecdotes. Maxwell seemed unable to hold back when it came to speaking about Davis, and Dante listened to him with a mix of fascination and melancholy.
He recalled what Helios had said to him earlier. He wanted to kill him again? Why the hell would he want to do that?
Dante looked at him confused. "Why do you want to kill me?"
Helios thoughtfully placed his fingers on his chin. "Hmm, maybe because last time I was half-dead myself and didn't get the full picture?" he said finally, with a dismissive wave of his hand.
Dante set the papers he had been holding on the table and pushed them aside. "And what exactly would that accomplish?"
Helios stood up and slowly walked toward him. With a nearly calculating look, he scanned Dante from head to toe before suddenly grabbing his wrist and measuring his pulse. "It could help me understand how your body works. You won't find anything useful in those papers," Helios said, leaning in a bit closer. "I want to take all kinds of samples from you—blood, tissue, bodily fluids. Everything I can get. And most of all, I want to know how you became immortal."
Dante sighed and tried to escape the situation. "I do want you to help me, but I never agreed to be dissected by you," he replied with an annoyed look that clearly showed how uncomfortable the thought made him.
Helios raised his chin and looked him directly in the eyes with an intense gaze. A cold, almost calculating smile formed on his lips, and Dante felt a shiver run down his spine.
"Shame," Helios said in a tone that was almost amused. "I'd be really curious to know if your organs regenerate. With a little adjustment, you'd make a wonderful donor – and so much more productive," Helios chuckled. "After all, we could keep taking organs from you and use them to help others. A true act of charity, don't you think?"
Dante pulled his head back. "Forget it. No dissection tables. No quack surgeries. And definitely no organ donations!"
Helios seemed unfazed by Dante's vehement rejection. "Don't worry, I'd be extremely careful. No one would ever find out about it," he said, folding his arms across his chest. "However, I still need samples from you. Flesh, bones, bodily fluids – everything. Eventually, I'm sure I'll find a clue that tells me what happened to you."
"Do you think you'll find anything if I give you the samples?" Dante asked, although he already knew the answer to that question.
Helios settled into his chair, made himself comfortable, and crossed his legs. He looked at Dante thoughtfully, as if considering how best to formulate his thoughts. "There should definitely be something to find in your cells. I just need to figure out what exactly I should be looking for," he began calmly. "It would be interesting to see if your blood is contagious. Maybe you could make someone immortal through contact, or maybe you pass this ability on to your children."
Dante waved him off. "I can't heal anyone with my blood."
Helios raised an eyebrow. "Have you tried?"
"I couldn't heal your gunshot wound back then, even though you got more than enough blood from me," Dante replied without hesitation.
"Did you lie to me back then?" Helios asked suddenly.
Dante looked at him, confused. "What do you mean?"
"I was under the firm belief that you had taken a bullet to the heart. You told me I was imagining it all, but now that I know you can heal yourself, I naturally wonder if you lied to me," Helios said. His expression wasn't disappointed, but rather intrigued. The question seemed to fascinate him more than hurt him.
Dante briefly considered whether he should say it. But Helios already knew everything, and continuing to lie about something like this would be pointless, so he nodded. Helios laughed triumphantly.
"I knew it!" he exclaimed, his green eyes shining with joy and satisfaction. "My dear Dante, I really started to doubt my sanity!"
Dante shrugged. "You weren't supposed to know back then."
Helios sat up straighter and fixed Dante with a curious look. "Tell me how it happened. What happened, where did it happen, and who did it? I want to know everything, Dante."
"I don't remember much from that time," Dante said as he tried to recall what had happened before. Even though some memories were clearly burned into his mind, the beginning of it all was covered by a fog that he struggled to pierce.
Helios leaned back. "Fragments are enough; we'll definitely figure something out."
"Okay, as you wish," Dante finally said. "I was stationed in Soley."
Helios looked at him in surprise. "If I remember correctly, a power shift took place there. The fighting lasted several years, and only recently has normality returned. I followed it only on the sidelines, but as far as I know, Father provided the area with medicine."
Dante nodded, his expression hardening. "Yes, that's true. They wanted to overthrow Nicolai, who at that point had plunged the country into chaos. The citizens were starving, the streets were filled with misery, and Nicolai was the only one profiting from it. He filled his pockets with money while people were dying of hunger."
Helios' eyes gleamed as he asked, "Did you fight against him?"
Dante shook his head. "I was there, but just before the goal, I sustained injuries that nearly cost me my life."
Helios stared at him for a long time, as if trying to read more into Dante's words. Then, almost casually, he asked, "How old are you, Dante?"
Dante exhaled slowly. "I'm 27 years old, and have been for 10 years. I haven't aged a single day since then."
Helios stared at him wide-eyed. "You don't age?"
"No."
"And your wounds also disappear completely?"
"Since they changed me."
Helios appeared thoughtful. "Interesting. You really haven't aged?"
Dante sighed and pulled out his wallet. He rummaged through it and took out a photo, handing it to Helios.
"This photo was taken after they changed me."
Helios studied the photo, glancing back and forth between it and Dante, as if comparing both.
"You really don't look a day older. Keep going," Helios urged.
"I was caught in an explosion. A fragmentation grenade. The metal shards pierced my whole body, but not in a way that I would have died immediately. They took me and moved me. I don't remember what they said because my consciousness kept drifting in and out. I can only recall the surroundings changing constantly. First, I was in the city, then in a warehouse, a military vehicle, then they pushed me down a tiled corridor and finally chained me to a metal table, where they removed the shards," Dante continued.
It almost felt like he was talking about someone else, a stranger who had gone through those agonies. The pain, the fear, the desperate hopelessness—he had blocked it all out. The screams that tore at his throat when they removed the shards without anesthesia or painkillers. The panic when they shoved a cloth into his mouth to keep him quiet, treating him like an object that was already dead. He thought about the injections they had given him.
"I'm being honest with you, Helios," Dante went on, "I have no idea where they took me or what they did to me. They injected something, but over a period of time I couldn't track. I don't know if it was hours, days, weeks, or months. When I could think clearly again, I was like I am now."
"So you don't know what they did to you?" Helios asked.
Dante shook his head. "No, not until that point."
"Why aren't they looking for you? A valuable test subject like you, they couldn't have just let you go," Helios asked in surprise. "I would never have let you go."
Dante snorted bitterly and leaned back. "I woke up in a mass grave. They disposed of me like I was just some failed experiment. They probably really thought I was dead."
Helios' eyes widened, and for a moment, he seemed speechless. "So, no one knows you're immortal?" he asked finally.
"Only you," Dante replied quietly. "Apparently, I died back then, and it took me forever to regenerate."
He shook off the thought of the rancid mass grave and the helplessness that had overtaken him at the time. The panic when he climbed out, and the surprise that he was stronger than ever before. It had been terrifying, the ease with which he had been able to climb those walls.
He clearly remembered the first time a wound closed before his eyes. He could still feel the fear he had felt when he didn't know where to go or even where he was. He had hidden out of fear that someone might find him. It had taken him a long time to gather the courage to go out openly again on the street. He had moved, left behind everything he knew or owned. He had started from scratch and slowly but surely worked his way up.
"Wow, that's really interesting," Helios said with satisfaction. "So, no one except me is allowed to find out what's going on with you?"
Dante felt sick at Helios' statement. He looked euphoric. "Exactly," he said nonetheless.
Helios looked thoughtful again. "Soley, then. That's where the search begins," Helios mused. He looked at Dante with his intelligent green eyes.
"Exactly, though I've already tried to find an answer in Soley. But without success."
"How did you come to us?" Helios asked.
"How I came to you...?" Dante began. He looked at him in shock. Helios smiled knowingly.
"Just like you attacked me, you probably thought that we—or rather I—had something to do with your case. Or am I wrong?"
"Well…"
Helios leaned back in his chair. "The thought wasn't wrong, considering there were boxes of medicine from us everywhere at that time. It's a clue that I wouldn't have ignored if I were in your place. I just never worked on such a substance."
"Never worked on something similar? Maybe you've forgotten, or…"
Helios looked at him sharply. "I can remember every single medication I've created. Every substance I've worked with is burned into my memory as though I just worked with it. Believe me, Dante: I never forget anything."
Dante looked at Helios in surprise. "But you've been making medications for years. How can you remember everything?"
"Whether I want to or not, my brain is always working, Dante," Helios said, looking momentarily sad. Then, he spoke so quietly that Dante could barely understand him. "And as I've already told you: There are very few moments when it does nothing, because it's busy with other things."
Whether Dante wanted to or not, his thoughts immediately went to Davis and what the two of them had probably done together more often than Dante could imagine. He felt his ears heat up slightly, and he lowered his gaze so he wouldn't have to look Helios in the eyes. Why did he always feel embarrassed whenever it came to the fact that this young man had more sex than he ever had?
He had had his encounters and even a few one-night stands. He'd had a relationship or two. But it had been a long time, and especially in the last two years, he hadn't thought about sexual things at all. He had been far too focused on his research to look for someone to share his bed with. He had preferred to stay on his own.
Dante pushed the thoughts away; it wasn't important to think about them. He looked at Helios again and reflected on what had happened 10 years ago. He searched for clues and tried desperately to remember something that might help them.
Ten years. At that time, Helios had been 12 years old, and Aeternum Pharmaceuticals had supplied the medications that Dante and his comrades had used daily during the war.
So, he asked one of the questions that had been bothering him for a long time: "How long have you been making medications, Helios?"
Helios answered immediately, without hesitation. "Since I was 6 years old."
Dante blinked, confused. "You've been making medications for 16 years?!" he exclaimed, so surprised that it was almost impossible for him to keep his composure.
Helios shrugged. "It's not unusual to turn a hobby into a profession," he said lightly.
"A hobby...?"
Not that, but it's unusual to make medications at 6 years old, Dante thought in astonishment. What had he been doing when he was 6 years old? Probably nothing but causing mischief, running around with his friends on the streets.
Helios' gaze became distant for a moment, as if he had moved far away from the present reality. "Yeah, but that's a story for another day," he said, with a hint of regret in his voice. Then he looked at Dante again, his expression becoming serious. "Tell me if any details come to mind. Anything could help. Rumors that were circulating back then, names of companies, people, or even random phrases, no matter how insignificant they might seem."
Dante thought hard, but it was as if there was a block in his mind. "I can't think of anything, no matter how hard I try," he said, almost apologetically, as he again tried to recall something. But there was nothing—only this empty, painful void that gave him no answers.
Helios sighed and finally stood up. "This might be trickier than expected," he said, almost more to himself than to Dante. He went over to a sideboard and began laying out various instruments and containers on the table. "We should start with you, Dante. I'm going to analyze your cells and look for clues."
"What clues?" Dante asked, uncertain of what Helios was planning.
"Mutations," Helios answered calmly. "Somewhere in your body, it will be visible why you heal so quickly. Something must have changed, and we can find it."
"How will you detect the differences?"
Helios sat down in a chair and placed a tourniquet around his upper arm. With calm, precise movements, he tightened it and pumped with his hand while he used his other hand to disinfect the inside of his elbow.
Dante felt a tingle as soon as he saw the needle.
Helios inserted the needle into his skin and drew the blood without showing the slightest reaction. He seemed so calm, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. For a moment, Dante thought he could feel the needle himself, as if the cold tip were already inside him. But he forced himself to stay calm and not think about the needle.
"I'll compare your cells with mine," Helios explained as he filled the blood into a small test tube. "I'm perfectly healthy and have no diseases. So, that's the norm, unlike you, who is obviously no longer normal."
"That makes sense..." Dante said, a shiver running down his spine in anticipation of what was coming next. "…and surely my blood isn't enough for you?"
Helios removed the tourniquet, took the needle out, and applied a bandage to the puncture site.
"What are you afraid of, Dante? I've heard that even a knife in your shoulder didn't faze you," Helios asked, amused. He marked the blood with his name and finally walked toward Dante. A devilish smile played on his lips. "Don't worry, I'll be gentle, and thanks to your healing abilities, you'll forget all about this quickly."
Dante snorted. "I hate needles," he muttered.
"And I hate whiners," Helios replied with a broad smile. "So? Can we get started?"
Dante sighed deeply. If he wanted to get anywhere and find answers, he had to give Helios whatever he needed to find out what had been done to him. He rolled up the sleeve of his shirt and held his arm out to Helios.
"Please hurry," Dante said, turning his head away so he wouldn't have to look at the needle and the equipment Helios used to take his samples.
Helios suddenly laughed, and Dante felt his face flush.
"Why are you laughing?" Dante asked, offended, when he heard the unexpected laughter.
"It's just too funny. You've probably died more times than I can imagine. A bullet pierced your head right in front of me, and I personally poisoned you, but this little needle scares you?!"
"I'm just not a fan of such things..." Dante growled, irritated. "Come on, hurry up."
Helios continued to smirk as he applied the tourniquet to Dante's arm and sprayed it with cold disinfectant. He then began to take a blood sample, a muscle sample, collected Dante's saliva and mucous membrane from his mouth, and also gathered skin and urine samples. He had even taken bone marrow from him, as well as some cerebrospinal fluid. But when Helios finally tried to drill into his head, Dante had decided to completely refuse. Helios pouted and carried all the samples he had collected so far to his desk, where his microscope stood.
"If these samples don't reveal anything, I'll need some brain tissue too," Helios said, settling into his work with a mix of seriousness and ease.
Dante felt a chill run through him. "What for? It's not like you could compare them to your own," he said, his voice trembling with nervousness.
"Not that, but I can get samples. That won't be an obstacle," Helios replied.
Dante didn't even want to imagine where the brain sample would come from or how Helios would get it. The thought made his blood run cold. He sighed deeply and tried to clear his mind.
"How do you plan to get the other samples? You can hardly take them all yourself," Dante asked, still uncertain.
Helios glanced at his watch as if keeping track of time. "The doctor should be here soon. Even though I can do most of it myself," he said with an almost bored tone. He walked over to the sideboard again and placed another glass in front of Dante. "You should be able to manage this one on your own, or do you need something to look at?"
Dante stared at the glass in confusion, then at Helios, not understanding what he was asking for. He'd already taken so many samples; what else could Helios possibly need?
"What do I need to look at it for?"
Helios raised an eyebrow and gestured with his gaze toward Dante's crotch. "I told you, I need all of your samples. Or do you need help?"
Dante suddenly jumped up from the couch when he realized what Helios meant. "What the hell do you want to find in THERE?!" he exclaimed, horrified by the audacity of the request.
Helios just shrugged and, without warning, ripped a single hair from him. Dante startled and touched his head as pain shot through his scalp. "I told you, I want to examine everything about you," Helios said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "So, make sure you finish up so I can finally have everything I need."
Soon after, Helios seemed so absorbed in his work. Dante stood uncertainly for a moment, staring at Helios. Then, with a frustrated sigh, he grabbed the container and made his way to the bathroom.