The driver exited the car, walking around to open the door for her with a stiff, mechanical precision. His gentlemanly gesture clashed awkwardly against his eerie demeanor.
"T-Thank you…" she murmured, stepping out hesitantly.
Up close, the building gave off an even stronger sense of unease. The trees seemed to lean away from it, as if even nature wanted nothing to do with this place.
'What a bad energy… Maybe it's just because we're so far from civilization.'
"Follow me," the man said simply.
"O-Oh, yes."
The two made their way to the gate. As they approached, two guards stepped forward, their presence heavy and watchful.
'Guards too… This place really is something else.' Celina blinked.
"Good afternoon. Can we please check you for any unwanted items?" one of them asked politely, though the firmness in his voice said refusal wasn't an option.
"Unwanted items?"
"Please let them search you, ma'am," the driver added, his sunglasses hiding any hint of expression.
"…Ok, I understand."
The guards moved quickly. One took her bag and began inspecting it, while the other swept a handheld scanner over her body. The device beeped softly once, twice—then went still.
"She's clear."
"Understood. Open the gates."
With a metallic groan, the huge doors slid open, revealing a sterile courtyard beyond.
The suited man stepped forward first, and Celina followed behind, her steps growing slower as she took everything in. The inside was no more welcoming than the outside—minimalistic, lifeless, and oppressively functional. Grey and white as far as the eye could see.
There were barely any windows. No decorations. No signs of life.
'Well, it's a pharmaceutical facility. I guess they don't need to make it homey,' she thought, glancing nervously behind her. The gates were already closing.
No turning back now.
As she turned forward again, the facility doors swung open—and three figures stepped out.
A warm voice floated to her ears, gentle and melodic.
"Oh my, you're finally here."
It belonged to an older woman wearing a crisp lab coat. Her soft features were framed by messy white hair pulled into a loose bun, and a kind smile lit up her face.
"You must be Miss Celina?"
"Uh, Y-Yes!" she stammered, snapping back to attention.
"Mm, lovely to meet you, Celina. I'm Margaret, the supervisor here. Thank you so much for answering our request. We truly appreciate it."
Margaret stopped in front of her and extended her hand warmly.
'Finally, a friendly face!' Celina could've cried from the relief alone. She eagerly shook the woman's hand.
"No, please, it's my honor to be able to help your employee. When I read your email, I knew I had to say yes. It's my duty as a therapist to help those in need."
"Oh my, what a kind-hearted soul you are," Margaret laughed gently. "I'm very glad we chose you. I'm sure you'll do wonderfully."
Then, with a sharper note to her voice, she turned to the stoic driver.
"Seba, thank you for your work today. You're dismissed."
The large man simply nodded and walked off without a word, disappearing into the depths of the compound.
Left alone with the three scientists, Celina straightened herself and smiled nervously.
"So, umm, who is the person that needs my help?" she asked, following Margaret into the building.
Inside, the design remained the same: practical, colorless, and deeply unsettling.
"It's… complicated. We'll talk about it in my office," Margaret said with a strange little sigh.
Celina caught the subtle shift in her tone but chose not to comment.
The further they walked, the stronger the smell of sterilizing chemicals became, burning faintly at her nose. Every door they passed was marked "Lab X," with only the number changing.
Finally, they reached a door at the end of the hallway.
Margaret pushed it open and gestured her inside.
The office was just as sterile as everything else—a blurry, lifeless image of what an office should feel like. No warmth. No personal touches. Just cold functionality.
"Please, take a seat. Would you like coffee or tea?"
"Mm, no, thank you. I've eaten before coming here."
Margaret nodded and sat behind her desk.
"Well then, let's get straight to the matter at hand."
"I'm all ears," Celina said, adjusting her posture.
"You see, as we explained in the email, we have a particular case we couldn't handle internally. He's extremely important to us—but his behavior has become… problematic."
"Problematic? In what way?"
Margaret leaned forward slightly, voice dropping lower.
"He's withdrawn. Uncooperative. Aggressive. His presence alone causes the others to break into tears. He refuses to participate in any activities. He lashes out."
Celina blinked, eyebrows furrowing. 'To that extent? This sounds bad…'
"Has anything happened to him? Some traumatic experience? Maybe a shock?"
"No… He went through the same process as all the others. Yet he came out… different. Disturbingly so. However…"
Margaret hesitated, her eyes shadowed with something unreadable.
"…He is by far the most talented asset we've ever produced. His intellect is astonishing. His skills—unmatched. He learns everything at a frightening speed."
Celina hummed quietly to herself. 'Brilliant mind, unpredictable behavior, emotional detachment… Could be autism, maybe ADHD, or even something more complex…'
"There's… one more thing."
"Yes?"
"He has a strange fixation with blood. He bites his own lips. Sucks the blood. He refuses to stop."
Hearing that, Celina pressed her lips together thoughtfully.
'This might be a little more serious than I expected… but it's still within the realm of psychological disorders.'
Without rushing to conclusions, she composed herself.
"I understand the basics. But to give any real evaluation, I must meet him myself. A personal interaction will help me read the situation better."
"Of course. I had my team prepare his full file for you." Margaret handed her a thick folder.
Celina blinked at the weight of it and opened it curiously—only for her heart to skip a beat.
Inside was a photo of a young boy.
Not a man. A child.
She lifted her gaze slowly to Margaret, confusion plain on her face.
"Uh… Miss Margaret?"
"Yes?"
"I… Ehem, I don't know if this is a mistake or a misunderstanding, but… isn't this a child in the photo? Is this an old picture?"
Margaret's smile deepened, her eyes losing some of their warmth.
"Man? Who ever said he was a man?" she said softly. "He's fourteen years old."
"... What?" Celina muttered. Never did she expect to hear that. In fact, every image she created about the situation was shattered in a minute, and the words Margaret said started taking on a completely different meaning.
"His name is Kael, as you can see. We also added some of the many things we noticed about his behavior in that report. I hope you can read it thoroughly before meeting him. You need that."
**
A//N: New to this writing hobby, I hope you enjoy my very first story, and don't forget to add it to your collection.