The man was wheeled in on a white plastic examination table. Well, she’d said ‘man,’ but technically he was just a corpse by the time he arrived.

Besides herself, there were five other people in the room, two of them obviously researchers and the other three whose role she wasn’t quite sure of. Although they had all received the vaccine, full-body protective gear was still being worn – gloves, masks, and robe.

Four years ago, Saram would have had to look away from the man’s blood-smeared, frozen face as it was rolled past her, but since the NF-I pandemic most researchers had gotten used to the sight of a corpse. The virus had swept through the entire world with almost apocalyptic effects in the past four years, and despite a vaccine being possible, the unethical cultivation method and the need for booster shots made it a basically nonexistent solution. Most people could only wear masks and pray that they had some sort of resistance to the virus.

“–And how did the unsupervised death go?” One of the researchers, a man with dark hair whose face was otherwise completely covered, was discussing with his colleague as they injected needles into the man’s inner elbows.

The colleague’s reply was a short laugh. Saram narrowed her eyes at the man, piqued by the fact that he could even smile when they were in the presence of a fresh body – but when she glanced around, nobody else seemed to care, either. “It’s a funny story, actually,” the second man mused, placing the blood-filled needle securely in a test tube rack before turning back with a fresh needle for more. “There was a fight in the cafeteria and that was why the guards were sent in. When they got there, this man collapsed and everybody’s attention got diverted. It was a total coincidence that we even managed to respond this quickly. A bit of a pity, really – a bit more exposure to the virus would’ve given us more fodder in the next few weeks.”

The dark-haired man nodded, just about finishing up with his second collection of blood. “Yeah, with August ending and kids going back to school, a lot of booster shots are due. The demand for vaccine supply are increasing each year.”

“More people are hearing about it.” The colleague shrugged. “WWHO realized that this pandemic isn’t going to end by itself, and they have no other ways to help the people. They turned a blind eye to us before but now they’re starting to let people talk about us, too.” The man paused, placing a third vial of blood into the test tube rack and then turning to search for Saram. When he spotted the woman, he pointed a gloved finger at the rack. “Here, that’s for you. It’s fresh.” Again, with the light-hearted tone.

Well, they had to stay positive somehow. Forcing herself to smile, Saram nodded at the man in appreciation and took the rack. One of the men by the door – he looked like a prison guard or something, dressed a bit like an astronaut with all that protective gear – opened the door to let her out.

Glad to be away from that suffocating space, Saram took a breath of air and glanced around in an effort to quickly familiarize herself with the place. This was the area dividing the prison and the laboratory – a grey zone, so to speak. And quite literally so, with its dreary cement walls. The infirmary was located not too far down the left hallway, on the other side of a heavily guarded gate. Down the right was a restricted-access door, opening only to those with card key access. The area in between, where she was standing, was mostly what they called ‘harvesting rooms.’ And since she hadn’t been registered in the card system yet, Saram had set up a temporary workspace here.

While she was busy sorting through her new chain of many unfamiliar keys, Saram heard men’s voices and looked up instinctively. There were two prison guards walking down the hall towards her. Guards were a normal sight here – but when she saw the boy held limply in one of their arms, she felt something hard rush from her chest up to her throat.

There are children here?!

“… Shit, he’s starting to wake up.” As the men got closer, she heard one of them grunt irritably. “This kid is like a wild animal. Has too much energy, ends up with the strength of an ox.” He shifted the boy in his arms, and in response the boy’s hand reached up to grip the man’s shoulder instinctively. Relieved – at least he was alive – Saram was about to turn her back to them when a thought struck her and she whirled back around.

“Hey.”

She’d called out sharply, but when the guards stopped to look at her, she felt her tongue wither a little in apprehension. Taking a quick breath to steel herself, Saram lifted her chin and gestured at the boy. “Where are you taking him?”

The guard seemed to tilt his head, but she couldn’t see his expression past the black netting in front of his face. “This boy? Why do you ask?”

While she was flustering for an excuse, his companion spoke up instead.

“He’s new fodder,” the man drawled, lifting his hands in a shrug. “A trouble-maker with a short prison sentence, so they’re going to give him an NF-I injection for quick cultivation.”

What?! Horrified, Saram nearly dropped her test tubes. Tightening her grip on the rack in alarm, she lifted her hand and pointed at the boy, keys still jingling in her fingers. “I need a healthy blood sample. Immediately. Give me the boy,” she demanded in as deep a voice as she could muster.

Expectedly, the guards exchanged dubious glances. Making a show of sighing exasperatedly, Saram pointed at her own name tag and tapped the little plastic card.

“Hey, did you hear me? I’m Saram Lara, the head researcher of the in-vitro viral cultivation project. If I say I need that boy then you better give him to me, or Director Luey will be on your heels.”

There was another obvious hesitation, but then the guard nodded his head at Saram. “Alright. I’ll help you carry him in. He’s waking up though so you’ll have to be careful – he’s a bit wild.”

Phew. Turning her back so that they couldn’t see how relieved she was, Saram found her lab key at last and shakily unlocked the door. Turning on the lights, she held open the door for the man. “Put him there, in the chair,” she said, pointing at the armchair behind her new desk at the far corner of the lab.

“Okay,” the guard grunted, obediently setting the boy down there and then walking back towards her. “Do you want me to stay in case he gives you trouble?”

Definitely not. “N-No, it’s fine,” Saram said hastily, flashing the guard a smile and gesturing quickly for him to leave. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”

“Thanks, you too,” the man replied briefly, before she gladly shut the door on him. Locking it quickly, Saram placed her rack of test tubes on a nearby counter, then leaned against the wood and took a much-needed, deep breath.

She hadn’t unpacked yet – the bag with all her research notes was still sitting on top of her otherwise empty desk. The two benches, meanwhile, were cluttered with half-opened cardboard boxes containing laboratory equipment. In the corner, the boy’s head slid onto his shoulder and he mumbled something unintelligible. After a couple seconds of seemingly peaceful breathing, he jerked suddenly and jolted up in the armchair, dark eyes wide and mouth open in a sharp gasp.

“… Hello…” Saram said slowly. Instantly the boy’s head snapped towards her, his dark pupils gleaming in the bright lab light. Cautiously, she started approaching him, taking one step at a time, wondering why she felt such apprehension. He was just a kid… wasn’t he?

“Who… who are you…?” the boy rasped as she came close, eyeing her warily. “Where am I?” He paused, glancing around and seeming to notice that he wasn’t in the prison. All of a sudden, his expression brightened and the growl in his voice turned into childish confusion. “Huh? What’s this place?”

Relaxing hesitantly, Saram came up to the boy and reached for her laptop, shifting it away from him. Noticing the movement, the boy glanced back at her, head tilting in curiosity as he leaned back comfortably in the armchair.

“You’re the first lady I’ve seen in four days, ma’am,” he chirped, sharp teeth baring in a sudden grin.

Taken aback slightly, Saram felt a genuine smile of amusement warm her lips for the first time since she’d gotten here. “I’m Saram, I’m a researcher at the Siguang-Ri prison. Don’t worry, you’re safe with me.”

“Safe?” The boy lifted an eyebrow briefly, seeming to disregard the word as he looked around again. “Damn, so I’m still here.”

“Yeah.” Chuckling apologetically, Saram shifted herself onto a corner of her desk. “What’s your name?”

“Yue Shantao – am I in your chair?” the boy said distractedly, tensing his hands on the arm rests as though to push himself out.

“No, it’s not really my chair yet,” Saram replied warmly. “Shantao, how old are you? Where are you from?” Suddenly, she couldn’t stop herself from blurting out questions. “How’d you end up here?”

The boy paused, his grin fading as he seemed to observe her face. A little nervously, Saram smiled back, and eventually his dark eyes flickered away.

“Eighteen. I’m from Xiangzhou.” He reached up, scratching the tip of his nose as his voice. “I got in a fight in front in front of a store and the owner called the cops on me. Then the local station transferred me here.” He glanced back at her, grinning again with a joking shrug. “They see me a lot. Must’ve finally gotten tired of me, huh?”

She would have smiled, but it suddenly became extremely painful to do so. The poor child… ending up here, of all places. “… Do you have family?” Saram said after a moment of thought, reaching unconsciously for her phone. “I don’t think you were supposed to end up here, there must be a mistake. I can call them and have them pick you up –” Her tongue was racing way ahead of her thoughts, and already she was thinking to herself – hold it, wait, and just how are you going to sneak this boy out of here? But before she could send herself into a panic, the boy shook his head.

“I live in a park, ma’am, I don’t have a phone,” he said a little abashedly, averting his gaze. “I mean, it’s a great place, got trees for shade and everything and there’s a mall across the street. It’s just a bit loud cause people come and blast their music, and there’s a lot of strays who follow me around pestering for food. I live with my mom, all the grams know her, they come by in the morning to give us leftover dimsum.”

“O… Oh… I see…” Speech fluttering to a halt as she became swamped by a wave of pity, Saram just stared at the boy for a couple seconds. Then, in a desperate attempt to hide her guilt, she continued vainly, “Well has it been alright here so far? The facility is pretty new so I’ve heard it’s actually quite pleasant in there –”

“Oh, yeah!” The boy laughed, brightening immediately as he lifted a hand and pointed at the bruise on his right cheek. “See this? My cellmate gave it to me the night that I met him. I mean, I guess I deserved it, I called him a bitch – but I really thought he was one, he has the girliest face and all. Damn, though, he sure can throw a punch,” the boy added with a faint wince.

Isn’t there anything I can do? Sighing inwardly, Saram fidgeted with her watch. Her brand new white lab coat, which she’d been so happy to receive earlier, was starting to feel like melting plastic against her shoulders. The boy looked distracted, his unfocused eyes were gazing off at a wall somewhere. Thinking that she should say something to reassure him – after all, it wasn’t like he was any safer from the virus even if she got him out of here – Saram opened her mouth, only to freeze when there was a knock at the door.

“Saram!” A man’s voice, muffled by the door but rough in irritation, entered the room. Recognizing Luey’s voice with a jolt of alarm, Saram jumped to her feet and glanced back. The boy’s wide eyes were calm as he returned her panicked gaze curiously.

“Who’s that?”

“Uhh –” Before Saram could think of a place for the boy to hide, Luey’s voice growled again.

“Open the door! I know you’re hiding a boy in there, I heard it from the guards!”

Shit. Heart sinking, Saram trotted heavily over to the door and opened it, head lowered in shame as Luey brushed past her with an angry huff.

“You aren’t supposed to be here,” the man declared, pointing at the dark-haired boy sitting comfortably in her chair. “Come with me. You’re due for a disciplinary note.”

“What are you going to do with him?” Saram sighed forlornly, crossing her arms and leaning against the door as she watched Luey stomp over to the boy. He grabbed the boy’s arm, but was promptly shaken off.

“I can get up by myself, thanks,” the boy retorted, hopping off the chair and following Luey as the man walked back towards the door.

Luey’s dark gaze met hers as he approached and Saram lowered her head slightly, murmuring as he passed. “Please don’t hurt him.”

The man paused, eyes narrowing flintily as he glared back at her. “Saram, you’re my darling niece and an honoured guest. But guests have restrictions.” His voice lowered, turning into a black growl as he grabbed the boy’s uniform and pulled him roughly away. “Take my advice seriously – don’t meddle.”