"That was close," Robert muttered, wiping sweat from his brow. "The kid's got fight in him."

"Next time, doc, let us know when he wakes up." James grumbled, though there was no real malice in his voice.

Robert worked quickly, securing Edwin’s wrists and ankles with fresh restraints. The leather straps creaked as he pulled them taut against the metal frame. Doctor Cenilera stood motionless, still absorbing the chaos that had just unfolded.

“He woke up so suddenly,” she murmured, her voice brittle. “I didn’t have time to react.”

Robert barely spared her a glance as he double-checked the locks. “Albert says he’s been… aggressive lately,” he replied, his tone stiff, almost mechanical.

Cenilera’s hands trembled at her sides. She wasn’t looking at Robert. Her gaze remained fixed on Edwin, her breath shallow, her body rigid as if afraid to move. Her heart pounded against her ribs as she watched.

The tranquilizer darts were being pushed out of Edwin’s skin, rolling off his body like discarded husks. The puncture wounds sealed up, smooth and unblemished, as though they had never existed.

Robert followed her gaze, his hands freezing mid-motion. His throat tightened. “What the hell…?”

Even before the syringes reached his skin, the bruises and needle marks from their previous tests had begun to vanish, tissue regenerating with impossible speed. The flesh knitted itself back together in mere seconds.

Cenilera took a slow step back, shaking her head in quiet horror. “What happened to him?” she whispered.

James snorted from his post near the door, though his bravado faltered. “He’s breathing, has a pulse, and talks like a human. What does the extra stuff matter if he’s the key to survival?”

Robert turned sharply. “James, that’s enough.”

Cenilera’s throat tightened. Her mind raced, drowning in questions with no answers. “There’s something deeply wrong,” she murmured, her voice cracking. “He’s no longer… human.”

The room grew heavier, suffocating in its silence. The sterile air felt thick, pressing down on them like an unseen weight. The beep of the monitors was the only sound, a rhythmic reminder that Edwin—whatever he had become—was still alive.

Cenilera hovered near the bedside, unable to tear her eyes away from him. Robert leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. James paced restlessly, his boots striking the cold floor with each sharp step.

James’ gaze flicked between them, weighing unspoken thoughts before he finally broke the silence. “Look,” he said, voice tight. “I don’t work for Councilor Albert because I want to, and I sure as hell don’t ask questions I don’t want the answers to. We’re guards, not his confidants. All I know is that if we don’t do our jobs… there’s a much worse fate waiting for us.” His words came quickly, as if trying to end the conversation before it could begin.

Cenilera’s hands curled into fists. “And Edwin? What about him?” Her voice wavered between fear and fury.

James met her gaze with a fierce expression. “That’s none of our business. There is no cure without him.”

The finality in his tone brooked no argument.

He cast one last look at Edwin—his face unreadable—before turning on his heel and striding toward the door.

“I’m going to report this to Albert. Just do your job, Doctor.” He sneered as the steel panel slid open with a sharp hiss, then sealed shut behind him— leaving behind only the lingering echo of his departure.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

The silence that followed was suffocating, thick with unspoken horrors. The only sound was the quiet hum of the machinery, a dull, ceaseless reminder of the sterile, lifeless place they stood in. Cenilera’s gaze softened as it landed on Edwin’s frail, motionless form. His wrists, raw and bruised from restraints, twitched slightly in his sleep. He looked so small, so breakable.

"It wasn’t always like this," she murmured, the words barely more than breath. "We were so close once. He used to follow me everywhere, like a little shadow. He even called me his big sister. And now…" Her voice cracked, unable to finish the sentence. The grief was too sharp, too deep.

Robert’s expression wavered, sympathy creeping into his hardened features. "What happened?"

Cenilera’s hands curled into fists at her sides. Her mind drifted back to those earlier days—when Edwin had been a boy with bright eyes and endless questions, clinging to her as if she were his anchor. "When he was seven, Albert started pulling him out of my lessons. Said he needed him for something... something only Edwin could do. After that, I barely saw him. And now, he doesn’t even remember who I am."

Robert exhaled sharply, glancing at Edwin’s still form. "Yesterday, Sanchez and I were sent to Councilor Albert’s private lab." He hesitated. "Sanchez... he recognized a machine. Something meant for electrotherapy, but—" His brow furrowed, his voice lowering, "—it could also be used for torture."

The word hung between them like a curse.

Cenilera’s stomach twisted violently. She swayed slightly, feeling as if the air had been knocked from her lungs. "Torture?" she echoed, her voice hoarse. "Albert—Albert is doing this to his own son?"

Robert looked away, shame flickering across his face. "I don’t know all the details, but yeah… I think it’s worse than anyone realizes. I’ve seen the machine. It’s massive."

A tremor ran through Cenilera’s hands as she brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. She turned back to Edwin, her heart pounding against her ribs. His chest rose and fell in slow, shallow breaths, but his face was devoid of peace. He had spent too long in this nightmare.

Robert shook his head as if trying to dispel the weight of his own words. "I don’t know what’s worse," he admitted finally. "Albert’s experiments… or the fact that no one ever gave Edwin a reason to trust us. All we ever did was deliver him to his father. No one questioned why he was sent to the lab every day. No one asked why he looks like this. The only answer we’ve ever been given is that it’s ‘for the sake of humanity.’"

Cenilera let out a slow, shaking breath. Her fingers curled around the bed’s metal railing. "I don’t want to send him back," she said, her voice suddenly firm, resolute. "I want to set him free."

Robert blinked, taken aback. "You’re serious?"

Her eyes met his with unwavering intensity. "Dead serious."

Robert straightened, his expression darkening. "That’s rebellion, Cenilera. You know that, right?"

"I don’t care what it is." She turned to face him fully now, her jaw set. "Edwin deserves a real chance—a life that isn’t being stolen from him."

For a moment, Robert was silent. The weight of her words settled between them like a stone. Then, finally, he gave the smallest nod. "If we do this… there’s no turning back."

Cenilera’s pulse quickened. "Are you saying you’re willing to risk it? Because this isn’t just about losing your job, Robert. If we get caught—"

"I know," he interrupted. He took a deep breath, as if testing the words before committing to them. "There’s a way out. But it’ll be risky. We’ll need to move fast, and someone will have to stay behind. To throw them off. I’ll make sure they don’t follow you."

Cenilera’s brow furrowed. "What?"

Robert glanced at the door, then back at her. "There’s an emergency tunnel on the fourth level. It’s not heavily guarded. We can use it to get Edwin out.”

“What do you mean?”

“The moment they realize he’s missing, the whole compound will go into lockdown. If I’m still here, I’ll be able to steer them away from you—at least for a little while."

Cenilera shook her head, her heart twisting. "I can’t leave you behind! Anything could go wrong after we exit the tunnel. We’d still have to use one of the inner wall gates to reach Midfallen."

"It’s alright," Robert said quietly. "Albert’s first priority will be sealing the compound. By the time he realizes Edwin is already outside the perimeter, you’ll be long gone. This is our only chance."

She stared at him, barely able to comprehend the sacrifice he was willing to make. "You’re willing to do this? You’d stay behind for Edwin?"

Robert met her gaze, and for the first time, she saw the depth of his conviction. "I hate what this place has become," he said. "I’m just a guard. But I can’t stand by and watch anymore. If I can help you get him out of here, then it’s a step forward.”

Cenilera’s throat tightened. She searched his face, looking for hesitation, doubt—anything that would let her convince him otherwise. But there was nothing. Only quiet resolve.

"You don’t have to do this," she whispered. "You could come with us."

Robert gave her a faint smile. "Maybe. But someone has to stay and I’ve made my choice."

Tears burned behind her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Instead, she placed a hand on his shoulder, her gratitude unspoken but deeply felt. "Thank you, Robert," she whispered. "I won’t give up until we find a way for all of us to make it out."

He nodded, taking a steadying breath. "Then we’d better move before James gets back."

The hospital was unnervingly quiet, like the moment before a storm breaks. Deep in its cold, sterile belly, Robert stood at the foot of Edwin's bed, the dim lights casting long shadows that danced in the tension-filled room. Doctor Cenilera paced, her thoughts racing as her gaze flicked between Edwin's lifeless form and the door. The escape they had planned now felt impossibly far.

Robert's voice, low and gruff, cut through the silence like a blade. "We've got to wake him up. He can't stay like this, not if we're going to get out without raising the alarm."

He ran a hand through his short-cropped hair, eyes fixed on the boy.

“Yeah, let’s wake up the little beast.”