A muffled sound of two or maybe three individuals stirred the boy from his slumber. He tried to open his eyes and make out the shapes around him, but his dizziness made it difficult. Through the blur, he caught a glimpse of someone in a white coat. He could hear muffled voices, but their words were lost on him in his disorientation. He was in a sterile, windowless room with a single door, surrounded by beeping machines and the smell of antiseptic. The boy closed his eyes again, wishing for the noise to go away and for sleep to reclaim him. But as he drifted back into unconsciousness, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was very wrong.

Drip. Drip.

The sound of dripping water echoed through the dark room, growing louder with each passing moment. The boy struggled to open his eyes, as his eyelids felt heavy, like lead weights pulling them closed. The rough mattress beneath him was a far cry from the soft bed he was used to waking up in. He groaned, trying to shake off the annoyance of the dripping water, I’m so sleepy, he thought. He rubbed his eyes, trying to go back to sleep. But the sound of dripping grew more persistent, and the boy couldn't ignore it any longer. Ah, this is so annoying, he thought. Did someone forget to close the water faucet?

The boy felt agitated from the dripping sound, so he rolled from his back to his right side. At that moment, he realized something was off. The mattress was uncomfortable and he wasn't covered with his blanket. Where's my blanket? I'm feeling a bit cold. His hand traced where his blanket should have been, but instead, his hand felt a rough, moist floor. The realization hit him hard: this was not right. He forced his eyes open, but was immediately hit with a sharp pain in his head. "Ugh!" A groan escaped his lips. The pain was something he had never experienced before. He lifted his hand to the source of the pain in his head and pressed, as if trying to push it down. "Haa... haa," he took a loud and deep breath to calm himself and the pain, but to no avail. The pain was still there. He tried to open his eyes a bit to see his surroundings.

The view was unfamiliar and unrecognizable. The boy's heart skipped a beat as he sat up, feeling a wave of shock wash over him.

Where am I? This is not my room. What is this place?

Despite the sharp pain in his head, the boy tried to focus on his surroundings. He realized he was lying on a thin mattress on a concrete floor in a windowless room, with only faint light seeping in through a barred door. Although the thought of being in jail crossed his mind, he couldn't shake the feeling that this might all be a dream. Suddenly, he heard faint echoes coming from behind the door, and as he strained to listen, he recognized the sounds as cries of children.

The pain suddenly intensified, engulfing him completely, leaving him unable to focus on anything but his own suffering. All he wanted was for it to stop, but the pain only seemed to spread, eating him up from the inside. He curled up on the mattress, one hand around his body as if trying to comfort himself and the other clutching his shirt over his heart. The pain grew more intense with each passing second, making every moment feel like an eternity. Please, make it stop. Despite the intensity of the pain, he managed to whisper, "Help... anyone?" as he bit down on the mattress in an attempt to bear the pain.

The next wave of pain was even more intense, causing the boy to gasp for air. He struggled to breathe, feeling suffocated by the intense pain in his heart. I can't breathe. His mind was consumed by fear. Mom! Dad! Where are you? I feel like I'm dying! The boy's body was drenched in sweat, and he felt as though the pain was eating him up from the inside out. His blood felt like it was boiling, his head felt like it was being split open, and his heart was beating so fast that it felt like it was about to explode. Despite the fear and pain, the boy tried to hold on, desperate for some sort of release.

Exhaustion overtook the boy. He longed for the pain to stop and for sleep to claim him. He wanted to escape the constant barrage of suffering and simply drift into unconsciousness. As his body became heavier and heavier, he collapsed onto the mattress, his mind unable to keep up with the relentless waves of pain. His breathing slowed, and amidst the growing numbness, he could still hear faint echoes of crying.

Have they been crying this whole time? How long? he thought wearily. He was so tired, and his eyes felt heavy. With a tear falling down his cheek, the boy surrendered to his fatigue and let his eyes close. The soothing emptiness of unconsciousness enveloped him, and everything fell into silence.

Later, the sound of footsteps echoed through the narrow and dim hallway as three men made their way down. One of the men was dressed in a white coat, while the other two wore gray uniforms.

"Check each cell thoroughly,” ordered the man in the white coat in a strict tone, his voice calm but sharp. "Double-check for even the faintest heartbeat."

"Yes, sir!" replied the two men in gray uniforms.

The man in the white coat remained still as the men in gray hasten to open the barred doors of the cells. Each time they opened a door, a creak was heard, revealing the age of the cells. Meanwhile, the man in the white coat examined the medical files in his hand, taking note of the information they contained.

"Sir!" one of the men in gray uniforms calls out. "I think this boy is alive!" He peeked his head out from one of the cells to speak to the man outside.

"You think?" The man in the white coat repeated, narrowed his eyes and his voice dripped with disdain.

The man in the gray uniform immediately averted his gaze to the ground, visibly shaken by the man's piercing glare.

"Ah, umm, sir... I can faintly hear heartbeats from this boy, sir..."

The man in white widened his eyes, almost in a joyful look. "Are you certain?" the man asked.

He then walked towards the cell where the man in gray was standing.

The man in gray took a few steps back, giving space for his superior, while keeping his eyes on the ground the entire time. "N-no, sir... but it seems like I heard something...so I'm not sure, sir..."

The man in white approached the boy, who lay on his back on a beige-colored mattress. He looked down upon the boy as he gently pulled down the boy's bottom eyelids to examine his eyes. He then moved to his neck by pressing his fingers to feel for a heartbeat. After finding nothing, he moved to the boy's wrist. "Nothing," the man declared.

He then took out his stethoscope, placed the earpieces in his ears, and lifted the boy's shirt that was soaked with sweat. The man moved the stethoscope around the boy's chest, searching for any sign of a heartbeat. After a few moments, he stopped in one location and listened intently. There, he heard the faint and rapid skipping of a heartbeat, as if the heart was clinging to life, desperately trying to hold on.

The man in the white coat quickly removed his stethoscope from his ears and placed it around his neck. He then slid one arm under the boy's back and the other under his legs, lifting the boy up in haste. Turning to face the man in the gray uniform, he said, "You know the protocol. Proceed with the rest of the cells as usual."

"Yes, sir," the man in the gray uniform replied in a confirming tone, lowering his head.

The man in the white coat quickly walked out of the cell, carrying the boy with him, and made his way down the narrow, dim corridor. At the end of the corridor was a large iron door that could only be opened with a device mounted on the wall. The man in the white coat approached the device and placed his face level with it, allowing it to scan his eyes. A green light lit up on the device, confirming his access. The door slid open, granting the man in the white coat passage into a control room filled with screens and several men wearing gray uniforms. At the sight of the man in the white coat, the seated men immediately stood up.

The man carrying the boy rapidly passed the standing men "Call ahead now," he instructed coolly. "Tell them to prepare the operating room. We’re losing time—his heartbeat is barely detectable."

"Yes, sir!" one of the men promptly responded and swiftly turned to pick up the phone.

The man in the white coat continued on his way, accompanied by another man who ran ahead to open the elevator door for him. In a matter of seconds, the elevator door was open, and the man stepped inside, followed by the man who opened the door. The latter pressed one of the three buttons inside the elevator, pointing upward, before quickly retreating as the doors closed, leaving the man in the white coat to be carried upward.

After a minute, the elevator doors opened again, revealing two men in white coats who had arrived with a transport stretcher trolley.

"Dr. Cain, the room is prepared. Are there any further instructions?"

The young doctor walked toward the two men with the stretcher and carefully placed the boy onto it. "For now, we need to hurry. The boy's heartbeats are almost non-existent!" he exclaimed with a sense of urgency.

The team moved quickly down the hospital-like hallways as they pushed the boy, who was lying on the stretcher, towards the prepared operating room. Upon reaching their destination, they quickly placed the boy on the surgical table and secured him in place with the straps. One team member began attaching electrocardiogram (ECG) cables to the boy's chest, while another placed additional cables on the rest of his body. A machine for monitoring and scanning brain activity, known as an MEG, was positioned next to the boy's head.

All preparations were completed in a matter of minutes. one of the team members approached Dr. Cain with a syringe that was half full.

"Dr. Cain, everything is ready," the team member said.

"No, increase the dosage," Dr. Cain calmly instructed.

The individual holding the syringe appeared to widen their eyes, "Sir, if we increase the dosage—," they began, before being interrupted by a glare from the young doctor.

"I said increase it," Cain repeated, his voice growing sharper, more insistent. The individual, appearing flustered, quickly complied, "Ah, yes sir!" They hastily retrieved a medication bottle and filled the syringe with the unknown fluid.

On the other side of the table, two individuals who were wearing white coats like everyone else in the room, Whispered to each other.  

"Do you think he's a rare case?" one of them asked.

"There's a high chance he is," the other replied.

"That would be the third one in the last four years."

The two men quickly stopped their conversation as they flinched from a glare that interrupted their whispers.

"Hold him tight," the young doctor commanded, even though the boy was already securely strapped to the bed. The young doctor inserted the syringe into the boy's arm and dispensed the fluid into his veins. A few seconds after removing the syringe, the boy's body suddenly jerked as his heart rate, which had been barely detectable on the monitor, rapidly increased. His body began to go into a state of shock.

"Sir, his heart rate is rapidly increasing," one of the individuals monitoring the heart rate device called out.

Dr. Cain didn't respond, his attention focused on the readings displayed on the MEG machine. The beeps from the heart rate device continued to escalate in frequency. Suddenly, a spark of excitement flickered across his face as he studied the monitor, captivated by the data. "Administer the next dose. Now." His voice was tense, but filled with dark anticipation. One of the team members moved quickly to comply, injecting the boy. But then Cain’s expression shifted as he noticed something irregular on the screen. "Damn it!" he hissed under his breath, his eyes narrowing.

The young doctor's voice was shaking as he yelled, "Run!" His warning was met with stunned silence as everyone in the room watched in horror as the straps holding the boy to the table were burned and he floated off the bed, still unconscious. The young doctor quickly took action, running to the metal door at the back of the room and seeking refuge behind it. In a breathtaking instant, the room erupted in a display of unimaginable power. The young doctor, peering through the small window of the door, watched in sheer horror as a mysterious force surged forth from the boy's body. It defied all comprehension, obliterating everything in its path. The surrounding equipment, the operating room, and the other doctors—all were consumed by this indescribable energy.

 The young doctor emerged unscathed, dazed and shocked as he looked out through the broken window of the watch room at the aftermath of the explosion. The scene offered a surreal sight—a desolate wasteland where the living once stood. Every person who had been present in the room had vanished, evaporated into thin air. The sound of the fire alarm echoed through the hospital as emergency responders were alerted to the disaster.

"That was not fire," said the young doctor as he looked at the boy lying on the floor. The boy's appearance had changed dramatically; his brown hair was now as white as snow. The doctor approached the unconscious boy and, after checking his heart, was relieved to find strong and normal beats. When he opened the boy's eyes to check his pupil dilation, he was stunned by the colors of his eyes, which had changed from green to a glowing amber and orange shade.

"This is fascinating," the young doctor exclaimed, as he fell back into a sitting position, laughing in amazement.

A shout from outside the room gained the doctor's attention, and a group of men rushed in, wearing specialized emergency uniforms for incidents such as fires. However, upon seeing the scene before them, the men were in shock, as there was no fire to be found.

Breaking the silence, one of the men asked, "What happened here?" as he gazed at the young doctor.