Han-kyum woke again to the same sterile, white light buzzing faintly above him. It pressed down like it owned the room. He rubbed his eyes, feeling stiffness in his shoulders, aches in his wrists, and tightness in his chest from the previous day. His hands itched, almost as if they remembered the weight of pipettes,
the glass, the precision he had held onto like a lifeline. The bed creaked as he swung his legs over the edge. His gaze fell immediately on the metal table. A sheet of paper lay neatly there, instead, just a plain instruction sheet, crisp and demanding.
He bent down, curiosity mixing with dread. His eyes scanned the words: the next phase of the cure, more unstable than before, would require careful handling of several reactive compounds.
A faint tremor ran through him. Elijah appeared moments later, almost silently. He didn't slam the door or raise his voice. He simply took a measured step, arms crossed.
His expression was unreadable, sharp as always. Han-kyum noticed something in the set of his jaw, a slight tension that made his heart thump for reasons he hated. "You're up," Elijah said flatly. "And apparently you read instructions. Good." Han-kyum bit back a sarcastic reply. "Yeah, lucky me," he muttered. Elijah said nothing, only shifted to the side and waved a hand toward the lab. "Move. We're wasting time."
The lab coat at the foot of the bed caught Han-kyum's attention. It was crisp and well folded, almost like a silent command that was just waiting for him. He hesitated as his fingers moved over the fabric. The weight of the previous days—the fear, the exhaustion, the constant presence of Elijah pressed down on his shoulders. He took a deep breath.
The smell hit him first: sharp, metallic, chemical. Familiar. risky. essential. He picked up the coat and felt the stiffness of the fabric as he ran his fingers over its smooth surface. It didn't matter that the sleeves were nearly comically long. This wasn't about comfort. This was about survival.
Minutes later Han-kyum's started walking at the hallway his steps echoed softly against the sterile corridor, each tap of his shoes bouncing off the stark walls. The lab coat shifted slightly with each movement, sleeves brushing against his arms, the smell of chemicals clinging stubbornly. He kept his head down, eyes scanning the polished floor, the harsh glow of the fluorescent lights above making him squint.
Elijah walked a few paces behind him, silent and precise, like a predator watching its prey, though Han-kyum couldn't decide who was who. Every time he caught a glimpse of Elijah's profile out of the corner of his eye, his chest tightened. He wanted to hate this man, wanted to turn and walk away but that wasn't an option. Not today. Not ever.
The lab door opened with a soft hiss, and Han-kyum stepped inside, blinking against the bright light.
The room was spotless, every surface shining under the intense overhead lights.
Rows of benches stretched out evenly, racks of vials sparkling like tiny prisms, and instruments hummed quietly as if they were alive. The air smelled sharp and sterile,
with a metallic hint and a faint scent of chemicals. Elijah stepped in right behind him, moving silently with arms crossed, every movement precise. He stayed quiet as Han-kyum scanned the lab,
noting each piece of equipment and every container of powders and liquids. The weight of responsibility hit him immediately. This was where the cure would be created or fail. "Stay here," Elijah finally said, his voice low and steady, cutting through the quiet hum of the lab. He didn't wait for Han-kyum to reply. "Set up your workstation. I'll be watching." Han-kyum's heart rate quickened. He nodded and forced himself to move with intention.
The lab coat felt heavy on his shoulders, stiff from storage, but it grounded him and reminded him why he was there. Each step across the polished floor felt deliberate, echoing softly in the quiet space. He unpacked the chemicals Elijah had gathered for him, arranging them with careful precision.
Each vial, measuring tool, and powder had to be exact. Mistakes were not allowed. He flexed his fingers inside the latex gloves, adjusting them as needed, careful not to let a mistake ruin everything.
Elijah leaned against the counter a few feet away, arms crossed, his eyes locked on Han-kyum. The intensity of that stare made the air feel thick and heavy, almost suffocating. Han-kyum disliked it.
He hated being watched, hated the pressure, and hated that his heartbeat raced every time Elijah moved closer. Yet, he couldn't deny that it sharpened his focus. "Check the thermometer," Elijah said after a long pause,
his voice even but tense. "The temperature has to be exact." Han-kyum glanced at him, muttering under his breath, "Yeah, I know. I'm not an idiot."
However, his words felt weak, overshadowed by the fear of making a mistake. Elijah didn't reply, just kept watching, his gaze unblinking, an unspoken weight on every move Han-kyum made.
He began measuring powders, pouring liquids, and stirring carefully. Each action was deliberate. Sweat trickled down his forehead, prickling at the back of his neck. The lab's fluorescent lights reflected off his glasses, briefly blinding him, and he quickly wiped them clean, aware that Elijah's gaze tracked every movement of his fingers.
Han-kyum's hands shook as he lifted the final vial, glancing between the measurements and the thermometer. Sweat ran down his temple. Every instinct told him not to mess this up. One wrong move could lead to disaster, and he didn't want to think about what that could mean.
He slowly tilted the vial, pouring the solution into the reaction flask. For a moment, everything looked perfect. The colors blended as expected. A faint hiss and a shimmer of smoke appearednbut then he bumped the edge of the counter with his elbow.
Time seemed to stretch. Han-kyum froze, his heart racing. The reaction flask swayed. He lunged to steady it, but his other hand slipped on a stray beaker, sending vials crashing onto the counter. Glass shattered, and powder erupted into the air, mixing with the harsh light.
"No!" Han-kyum shouted, flinching as the entire mixture tipped over, liquid and powder spilling onto the counter and spreading to the floor. The sharp, metallic smell hit him hard. His chest tightened, and his stomach churned. Elijah's footsteps echoed like a warning. He arrived in an instant, grabbing Han-kyum by the arm. "What did you do?" His voice was low and dangerous,
each word sharp. "I—I didn't mean to! My elbow—" Han-kyum stammered. "Doesn't matter!" Elijah snapped, suddenly raising his hand, and slapping Han-kyum's face.
The sting burned, making his ears ring. His head jerked to the side, and his cheek throbbed. Han-kyum stood frozen, blinking in shock. Pain mixed with fear, guilt, and deep humiliation.
"You think saying sorry will fix this?" Elijah growled, voice harsh and eyes dark. "Do you understand what's at stake? Do you?!" The chemicals are specific. Timing, ratios, temperatures do you think I can just let you go again and risk this?" His jaw clenched, body tense, ready to lash out again. Han-kyum swallowed hard, his voice trembling. "Y-yes… I understand…" Elijah shoved the shattered vial away with a swift motion. "Then move! Fix it! Now! No excuses." His tone left no room for debate. The anger radiating from him made every hair on Han-kyum's arms stand up. Hands shaking, Han-kyum bent over the counter again.
He still felt the sting on his cheek and smelled the faint metallic tang of blood mixing with chemicals. He lined up clean vials, double-checking every measurement before touching anything. Elijah leaned back slightly, arms crossed, watching him intently. The tension in the air was thick, and the slap still rang in Han-kyum's mind.
Every nerve screamed at him not to fail again. As he worked with care and precision, Han-kyum realized this was more than just an experiment. It was about survival.
Under Elijah's watchful gaze, every second mattered.
Han-kyum set the vials on the counter and began measuring the powders. He moved carefully, checking each step twice, his hands steady and precise. Elijah stood nearby, arms crossed, watching him, but Han-kyum didn't look up. He didn't reply when Elijah muttered corrections or instructions.
Han-kyum stood, stretched his arms, and walked back to the small room assigned to him. He didn't look at Elijah. He didn't speak. He simply placed the tools on the shelf and sat down on the cot, brushing his hair back and letting his body relax.
He ate quickly, cleaned up, and lay down, letting the quiet of the room fill the space. The same work would be due tomorrow, and Han-kyum planned to complete it in precisely the same manner—by concentrating on the task at hand and disregarding everything else
"You're moving too slowly," Elijah said, stepping closer. "I'm fine," Han-kyum replied, not turning his head. Elijah exhaled sharply and leaned on the counter, observing silently. Han-kyum kept mixing, stirring the liquids, taking notes, and adjusting the temperature as needed. Each movement was deliberate and professional.
He completely ignored the man beside him, focusing only on the work.
Elijah finally straightened up and stepped back, muttering, "Not paying attention, huh?" "I am," Han-kyum said, his voice steady and his eyes on the mixture. "I just don't need to talk to you while I work."
Elijah didn't respond. He simply watched from across the bench, checking the reactions as Han-kyum carried out each step carefully. Han-kyum added reagents, labeled samples, and stirred slowly,
making sure nothing spilled or overheated. By mid-afternoon, the mixture began to change as expected. Han-kyum leaned back slightly, wiped his forehead, and checked his notes again.
Elijah stepped closer, glanced at the counter, then moved something out of the way. Han-kyum didn't acknowledge it and continued his measurements.
A small container slipped from his hand, spilling some powder onto the counter. He quickly grabbed a brush and cleaned it up without hesitation. Elijah's hand moved as if to help, but Han-kyum waved it off. "I've got it," he said calmly, brushing the powder into a waste jar. Elijah nodded once and stepped back, leaving Han-kyum to finish his work. Hours passed. Han-kyum continued working efficiently, checking reactions, adjusting mixtures, and recording everything. He ate the small meal left for him at the table without stopping.
By evening, the main reaction had stabilized. Han-kyum leaned back, his hands sore but steady. "Done for now," he said, setting down the pipette. Elijah glanced at the counter and nodded. "Good. Rest while you can. Tomorrow we continue." Han-kyum stood, stretched his arms, and walked back to the small room assigned to him. He didn't look at Elijah or speak. He just placed the tools on the shelf and sat down on the cot, brushing his hair back and letting his body relax.
He ate quickly, cleaned up, and finally sitted on his bed, letting the quiet of the room fill the space. Tomorrow would bring the same work, and Han-kyum planned to do it exactly the same way focused on the task and ignoring everything else.
While han-kyum was busy reading a notebook, flipping through the pages of the small notebook Elijah had given him. Formulas, notes, sketches of mixtures in everything was neatly organized.
He tried to focus and take it all in, but the buzzing of the fluorescent lights and the stillness of the room made him feel restless. A sudden shout broke the silence. It was sharp, panicked, and close. Han-kyum froze, the notebook slipping slightly from his hands. "Help! Someone—please!" His heart raced.
He stood and looked through the small observation panel in the door.
The corridor outside was empty and silent again, but the echo of the voice lingered in his ears. It sounded like a chemist in distress. Someone must have been dragged or trapped somewhere.
Before he could react, the door slid open, and a figure was pushed inside. The chemist stumbled, eyes wide with fear, tripping over the edge of the cot. Han-kyum instinctively reached out to catch him.
"What—what happened?" he asked. The chemist swallowed hard, trembling. "They… they pushed me… I—I don't know why. He—he's… he's out there,"
the man stammered, glancing past Han-kyum toward the corridor. Han-kyum's stomach dropped when he saw the shadow in the doorway. Yunseok stood there.
The sharp outline of his tall, unyielding figure and the coldness in his eyes made Han-kyum step back. He remembered the shove and how the man had forced the chemist forward, sending a shiver down his spine. Yunseok didn't move closer. He didn't need to. His presence alone made the room feel smaller and heavier.
The chemist huddled near Han-kyum, gripping his arm, eyes wide and silent.
Han-kyum's mind raced. The notebook felt heavy in his hand, and the pages became meaningless compared to the danger in the room. He took a careful step forward and guided the chemist to the small chair by the bed. "Sit," Han-kyum said, trying to keep his voice steady. "Stay calm. You're safe here… for now." The chemist nodded frantically, his voice barely a whisper. "I… I thought he—"
Han-kyum pressed a hand to the man's shoulder, cutting him off. "It's fine. Don't talk. Just breathe." Yunseok's gaze lingered on them both for a moment, silent and unreadable, before he finally turned and left. The metallic click of the sliding door sounded like a release,
but Han-kyum's chest remained tight with unease. The chemist exhaled shakily, curling into the chair. Han-kyum took a step back, still holding the notebook, unsure whether to open it again. The room felt smaller now, and the quiet felt less safe. He set the notebook down on the table, his hands lingering over the cover. The pages were familiar, orderly, controlled—the only thing in this place that made sense.
He glanced at the chemist. "Don't worry," he said softly. "We'll figure it out. Just… stay here." The chemist nodded again, still trembling. Han-kyum sat down on the cot, trying to focus on anything other than Yunseok, the shove, and the fear that had followed the man into his room.
Han-kyum leaned back slightly, trying to read the man's reaction. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice calm but firm. The chemist swallowed hard, his eyes darting toward the door.
"Y-Yes… I think so," he stammered. His shoulders shook slightly, as if he was bracing for another shove. "I'm Han-kyum," he said, extending a cautious hand. "Who are you?" The man hesitated,
glancing around the bare room, then muttered, "J-Jin… Jin Seo-hyun." His voice was small and strained. Han-kyum nodded slowly. "Alright, Jin. It's okay. You're safe here for now." He kept his tone low and soothing, but there was no false reassurance. Jin's eyes were wide, and his hands fidgeted in his lap.
He took a tentative breath, but the tension in his body showed he was still terrified. "They… they shoved me in here," Jin whispered, almost to himself. "It was… Yunseok." Han-kyum's jaw tightened,
but he said nothing. Instead, he gestured to the chair. "Sit. Take a moment to calm down. You don't have to talk if you don't want to." Jin sank into the chair, hunched over. He glanced nervously at the room,
and then at Han-kyum. "I… I didn't know where else to go. I… I didn't want to get caught." Han-kyum nodded again, keeping his distance. "I understand. No one's going to hurt you here. Just breathe." Jin's hands fidgeted with the hem of his lab coat, and he gave a small, shaky nod. "Th-Thank you… Han-kyum."
The room fell silent again, except for the low hum of the overhead light. Han-kyum returned to his notebook, flipping a page slowly and letting Jin adjust to the room. The chemist's wide eyes never left him, showing a mix of fear and cautious relief.
Han-kyum finally closed his notebook and leaned back slightly, keeping his eyes on Jin.
"You don't have to share everything if you don't want to, but how did you even end up here?"
Jin swallowed, nervously twisting the edge of his sleeve.
"I was working in the lab, like always. I didn't realize anything was wrong until Yunseok showed up. They pushed me out of the hallway—I barely had time to react." He swallowed again.
"I didn't even know where I was going until I ended up here." Han-kyum's jaw tightened.
"So it's him, Yunseok?" Jin nodded quickly, his eyes wide. "Yes. He doesn't like mistakes or people who get in the way. I think that's why I ended up here." Han-kyum exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck.
"The same thing happened to me. They pulled me out of the lab without warning.
No one explained anything. I just woke up in a room without knowing what time it was, no phone, and no idea what was going on." Jin's eyes widened. "You're one of the chemists too?" "I am," Han-kyum said. "But I guess I'm more valuable to them. At least that's what they think." He paused, looking at Jin.
"Why you? Were you involved in anything big?" Jin shook his head frantically.
"No! I was just working on the formulas, following instructions. I didn't even know about the virus spreading. I swear." Han-kyum studied him for a moment,
then nodded. "Yeah, I get it. I didn't know the full scope either at first. They just pulled me in because of my work. And now…" He gestured vaguely at the room, the lab, and the untouched vials. "We're stuck here." Jin's shoulders slumped slightly, relief mixing with lingering fear. "So we're trapped together?" Han-kyum gave a faint shrug. "For now." His gaze softened a little, but his words remained steady. "But we'll figure it out. One step at a time. You follow instructions, you survive. That's the first rule here." Jin nodded slowly, still jittery, but a tiny spark of trust began to form. "Okay, I can do that." Han-kyum gave a small, tight-lipped nod. "Good. Then let's start by staying alive today." The room fell quiet again,
with just the hum of the light above and the faint sound of ventilation. For the first time, Jin let himself relax a little, realizing Han-kyum wasn't just another threat, but maybe someone he could rely on in this mess.
Han-kyum leaned back slightly, arms crossed, eyes narrowing. "Do you even know what's happening? The virus, the spread, any of it?" Jin shook his head, his voice shaky. "I heard some rumors at the lab, but I didn't think—"
He swallowed hard, then added, "I didn't know it was serious. I didn't know it was this bad."
Han-kyum's jaw tightened. "It's worse than rumors. The whole facility is in chaos. People are disappearing, experiments are going missing, and formulas are gone. I lost track of half my team before they pulled me in." Jin flinched. "Employees… missing? You mean they didn't leave?" "No," Han-kyum said quietly. "They just… disappeared. One day they're there, the next, gone. No warning. No explanations. Nobody talks about it except the higher-ups. And if you ask too many questions…"
His voice trailed off. Jin's eyes widened. "Y-You're lucky to still be alive, then." Han-kyum gave a short, bitter laugh. "Lucky is relative." He leaned forward, his voice dropping. "Do you know a woman named Mrs. Jana?" Jin's fingers froze mid-motion, and his eyes darted to Han-kyum. "Y-Yes, she's one of the supervisors. She knows me." Han-kyum felt a knot in his stomach. "She disappeared.
Before they pulled me here, she was gone. Nobody knows where. I hope she's okay, but it's not looking good." Jin swallowed hard. "I didn't know… she's gone? I thought—" He stopped, unable to find the words. Han-kyum shook his head. "Nobody knows for sure. That's the problem.
And that's why we're here. They want us to finish what the others started. Or maybe they just want to control who survives." Jin's hands shook slightly as he clutched his notebook. "I don't even know how I got here. One moment I was working late, and the next… Yunseok shoved me into this room. I didn't see who else—" He hesitated, his voice low. "You?" "I woke up here too," Han-kyum said bluntly. "No warning. No explanation. Just a lab, chemicals, and someone watching me. That's how I found out what they wanted. And now we're supposed to fix it somehow." Jin nodded slowly, taking in every word. "I've been working on the formulas they left behind. Trying to replicate the virus, or maybe a cure?" His voice faltered. "I'm not sure anymore." Han-kyum let out a heavy sigh. "Same. I've been following instructions, trying to figure out what works.
But people vanish before you even know their role. Mrs. Jana, my team, gone. And now us." Jin glanced up, his eyes wide. "And you knew her? Personally?" Han-kyum nodded. "Yeah. She trusted me with parts of the project. She believed in the work we were doing. And now…" He shook his head. "Now we just have to survive, and maybe fix what's broken. If we don't, nobody else will." Jin swallowed, nodding quickly. "I understand. I'll do my best. I don't want anyone else to disappear either." Han-kyum gave a faint nod,
his eyes softening a little. "Good. Then we start there. Keep your head down, do what you can. And watch each other's back. That's all we've got for now." The two of them sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the situation pressing down on both of them. But for the first time since being shoved into this nightmare,
Jin felt a spark of determination. Maybe, just maybe, they could survive this together.
Han-kyum watched Jin fidget with his sleeves, still trembling a little. The room felt too quiet and heavy, and something in Han-kyum's chest tightened.
He sighed softly. "Hey, Jin." Jin looked up nervously. "Y-Yes?" Han-kyum hesitated, then said, "Let's be friends. We can get through this together. It's easier if we're not alone." Jin blinked, surprised. For a moment he didn't answer, then he nodded slowly. "I… I'd like that. Thank you." "Good." Han-kyum stood and pulled out an extra pillow and blanket from the small stack Elijah left earlier. "Here. You can sleep comfortably. You'll need your strength." Jin's eyes widened. "A-Are you sure? This is yours." "I have more," Han-kyum said simply.
He even grabbed the spare lab coat he planned to use tomorrow and handed it over. "Wear this in the morning. It'll fit." Jin held the coat carefully, almost like he was afraid it would disappear.
"Thank you… really." Han-kyum gave a small nod and stepped back, letting Jin settle. Jin lay down slowly, still a bit scared, but the warmth of the blanket and the quiet kindness helped him relax just a little. At least for tonight, he wasn't alone.
____
Morning came quietly.
Han-kyum woke first, blinking at the soft hum of the lights. For a moment, he forgot Jin was in the room until he heard the small, uneven breathing from the other side of the bed.
Jin lay curled up under the blanket Han-kyum gave him, the lab coat folded neatly beside him to keep it from wrinkling. Han-kyum sat up and stretched his stiff shoulders.
The air was cold, the kind that made the floor feel sharp under his bare feet. He rubbed his face, stood, and reached for his own lab coat. Then he heard a soft rustle behind him.
Jin pushed himself up, his eyes still heavy with sleep. "Is it morning already?" "Yeah," Han-kyum replied as he buttoned his coat. "We should get ready. Yunseok might check the rooms." Jin swallowed and nodded. "O-Okay. Th-thank you again for yesterday." "Don't worry about it."
Han-kyum grabbed the spare coat and handed it to him. "Put this on." Jin slipped it on carefully. It was a bit big for him, but it made him look more like a real worker than a prisoner. That seemed to calm him. Han-kyum moved to the door and pressed his ear against it. "No footsteps. We're clear."
Jin hovered behind him like a shadow, clutching the sleeves of the coat. "You ready?" Han-kyum asked. "Not really," Jin whispered. "But I'll try." "That's enough," Han-kyum said. He opened the door slowly.
The hallway smelled faintly of disinfectant—clean, empty, controlled. They stepped out together, quiet and alert. A new day. New work. New danger. But at least, for now, Han-kyum wasn't walking into it alone.
They walked down the hallway, their steps echoing softly. Jin stayed close, arms tucked in, eyes darting around as if he expected someone to jump out at any moment. To keep him calm and to stay focused himself, Han-kyum started talking. "Today, we're working on Compound 47-B,"
he said quietly. "It's one of the base solutions for the antiviral sequence." Jin blinked. "Antiviral… the preliminary layer?" "Yeah. It stabilizes the reaction so the final cure doesn't collapse." Han-kyum kept his voice low and steady. "Elijah wants it perfect, so we need to get the ratios right."
Jin nodded slowly, absorbing every word. "So… we're doing the measurements together?" "Mm. I'll handle the heating and extraction.
You verify the pH changes." Han-kyum glanced at him. "You know how to do that, right?" Jin straightened a little. "I—I worked with the sequencing team before my employees disappeared. I can do pH monitoring." "Good." Han-kyum looked ahead again. "That's enough. We just need to be precise." They turned a corner. The lab door was already in sight, cold metal, the keypad blinking faintly. Han-kyum continued, "We'll start with the base reagent.
Then the catalyst drops come last. Don't mix them early or the whole thing will foam and burn." Jin swallowed hard. "Noted. I don't… want anything exploding on me." "It won't," Han-kyum assured him, pushing his hair back from his face. "As long as we stay focused." For the first time, Jin let out a slow breath. "Thank you… for telling me everything." "Better than going in blind,"
Han-kyum said. "We're stuck here anyway. Might as well make the work easier." They stopped in front of the lab door. Han-kyum keyed in the code, and the lock clicked open. "Ready?" he asked. Jin nodded, small and nervous, but determined. Together, they stepped inside.
Han-kyum glanced at Jin. "Come on," he said quietly. "we can do this" jin nods at Han-kyum