Elise spotted Aris from across the courtyard; his auburn hair was unmistakable, even from a distance. The sharp pain behind her eyes flared as she approached, a reminder, a warning of venturing past her station. "It's not like I can do anything with nothing to work off of," she nagged at the pain as if it would hear her woes. However, I'd be half lying if I didn't suspect Lyle didn't knew at least a little. A sharp pain pierced her skull, punishing her for her inquisitive ideas, but Elise took it as a trail to answers; he was her key.

She walked through the courtyard, momentarily taking in the garden, full in its colour and overdue in its seasonal withering. Its unnatural persistence earned its usual contempt each time she passed. She heard familiar giggling among the usual student chatter, which made her look up.

Aris was standing in his smart casual fit and unmistakable from his auburn hair, talking to someone on a bench she hadn't acknowledged before. With coursework taking centre stage and trying to nurse the never-ending headache, she had pushed him from her immediate thoughts. The same was mostly true for Aris.

She got a clearer view of the two: Aris, with dark rings emerging under his eyes, and a girl with faded purple hair, whose yellow eyes glowed with excitement, dimming as Elise approached. The girl wore her usual grey bishoped hoodie and a long skirt, though with her small stature, any skirt she wore could be considered long.

"Hey," Elise greets, clearing her throat from its disuse.

Aris jolts in partial horror. Phoebe's excitement vanishes from her face as she watches Elise's pale face and dark, circled eyes, unable to tell if it's from exhaustion or her attempt at gothic makeup. However, her orange sweater and denim jeans had her swaying to the former.

"How's it been going for you guys lately?" Elise starts the conversation, nudging Aris's frigid frame.

The boy still paused, remembering the 'promise' of having to go out with her. He is left with no excuse as he was already 'out' with another person. Phoebe is unsure of how to proceed with Elise.

"ahh..." Aris stutters, still trying to navigate a conversation with her.

This is unbearably awkward. Phoebe, barely able to hide her stink eye, asks with a facade of care, "You look tired, are you feeling okay?"

"I'm fine," Elise dismisses, "nothing more than the usual coursework taking its toll. How about you, how are you feeling?"

"Better than you, of course," Phoebe mumbles.

"Fiiiine, I guess," Aris's response comes out more like a question.

 "I don't think we've met before," Elise kept her friendly demeanour with Phoebe, "I'm Elise."

Aris jolts, waking up. "Oh yeah, I guess that's the case." This is dreadfully awkward, he thinks, blissfully unaware that he is the cause. "Elise, this is Phoebe. She's someone I've gotten to know recently, and very passionate about her research, so I think you guys will bond like old buddies," Aris tries to 'save' face. "And Phoebe, this is Elise. She's a friend of mine and really easy to talk to. I think you'll enjoy talking to her once you get to know her."

"How nice it is to meet you, Phoebe", Elise seemed eager to make her acquaintance. "You two look like you've been busy. What's the latest project?"

"Oh, we've been working through some fascinating applications of our research," Phoebe replied, the emphasis subtle but present. "Haven't we, Aris? The Omega department has been keeping us pretty occupied."

"It sure has," tension present in his voice.

"Oh, how curious, what's the research about? I'd love to check out what you've got in store for the future!" Excitement lined Elise's words.

Phoebe's eyes glittered with pride, but she kept them narrowed in caution. "I'm glad to see your interest," a smug smirk forming on Phoebe's lips. "It's fascinating work, though I doubt it would interest someone in... what was it that you study?

"Criminology."

"See, they're quite different fields." Phoebe's French accent sneaks out. "I'm not sure I could do it justice to explain them in layman's terms, but" she paused, studying Elise's reaction. "It would be unfair to say so much and not at least give you a glimpse."

Phoebe leads the way into her private office, which she had inherited from a former teacher and researchers. On the way, Elise bridged a gap between Aris and Phoebe so she could ask, "Why are you so stiff?".

Aris takes a moment to think of his answer, but realisation begins to dawn on him that she may not be upset at him, given her tone. He eased up a bit, "It's been a while since we last spoke, I guess."

"Speaking of which, how has it been since we last spoke?" Phoebe hears Elise's indiscernible chatter behind her as her eyes twitch in annoyance as she walks past the columns, and her fists clench as she pushes through the stone door of the House of Omega with ease. 

Aris sighs in exhaustion, "Where would I even begin?"

The lecture hall buzzed with the particular brand of chatter that only came from students who couldn't define the word 'worry'. Designer bags claimed seats while their owners air-kissed greetings, voices carrying the casual entitlement of inherited wealth.

"Darling, did you hear about the Gibratlar Strait acquisition? Papa says it's revolutionising Mediterranean shipping..."

"Oh, that reminds me—Mother wants to know if your family is attending one of the Swiss summits. She's organising the après-soirée..."

Every day, the same calculation: where to sit, how to respond, which mask to wear. Those with old money expect deference to their superiority.

Behind the talk of political and finance discussions were more haughty laughter and chatter.

"I can't believe some of these people talk like that. I thought that was only in the old head movies."

"For real, man. Talking all fancy like, 'Papa says it's revolutionising,'" they laugh mockingly.

Scattered throughout the room, another group remained conspicuously silent. Some buried themselves in textbooks, others stared intently at laptop screens that clearly weren't displaying course material. A girl in the corner methodically organised her notes for the third time. An international student near the back wore expensive headphones, eyes closed, shutting out the social theatre entirely.

The loudmouths, cruising off on their own, sought validation of their rebellion and their attempt to form an identity. But the silent ones offered something closer to peace, but were just as trapped in their own performance. 

Aris noticed them all—the deliberate isolation, the protective rituals. He recognised the calculated positioning because he'd perfected it himself. Middle seats where either group couldn't corner him. Close enough to seem engaged, far enough to avoid entanglement.

Aris felt the familiar weight settling behind his eyes, the exhaustion of being nobody while surrounded by people desperate to be somebody.

"Where would I even begin?" he repeated, the question carrying the weight of those daily calculations, those careful performances, the constant navigation of a world where he belonged nowhere yet needed to be everywhere. "I don't know, honestly, but I do know it sure is exhausting, I guess." he gives a dry chuckle.

Elise gives him a sympathetic smile, "That's fine, when things cool off, maybe you can tell me about it."

They walked through corridors that grew progressively quieter; the usual student chatter that leaked through each classroom door faded to whispers, then silence. The warm, dark wood panelling of the main building gave way to painted concrete walls, which were still somewhat inviting but noticeably cooler.

Phoebe's keycard beeped at each checkpoint, each sound more pronounced in the thinning air. The overhead lighting shifted from a warm amber to a harsh, pale blueish-white that faintly hummed, casting everything in a sterile white glow.

"Most students aren't even allowed in this wing," Phoebe mentioned casually, glancing back at Elise. "My level of research requires quite strict security protocols." At each checkpoint, her keycard beeped with increasing authority. "After all, we are humanity's new frontier," she added, her voice carrying a hint of breathlessness.

Aris lagged slightly behind, realising he'd never actually been this deep into the building despite all their meetings as the floors changed from polished stone to sealed linoleum, keeping the same colour, which squeaked under their shoes, making him increasingly aware of how little he actually knew about what Phoebe did here.

"You know, I've been working eighteen-hour days on this project on the days I couldn't meet you, Aris," Phoebe said, her words tumbling faster now. "Sometimes I forget to eat because the possibilities of this just keep expanding."

She touched each door frame as they passed, like a ritual. "But you've kept me grounded, kept me from losing sight, thanks to our conversations. Reminding me of the lives we could transform, even our own." Her voice trailed into a whisper in the end.

Air recyclers hummed behind ceiling panels, and the scent of disinfectant grew stronger, not the pleasant clean scent of a hospital, but something more aggressive and chemical. Elise's headache spiked with each step. Even the silence felt processed, filtered, as if the building itself was holding its breath. Warning signs multiplied on the walls: AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY. BIOLOGICAL HAZARD. OMEGA CONTAINMENT.

The sterile smell reminded her of something she couldn't quite grasp—a memory that slipped away whenever she tried to focus on it. Elise's eyes tracked the security cameras, the heavy doors, and the warning signs. "Impressive setup for university research," she commented, her detective instincts quietly cataloguing details as they continued to walk past reinforced doors with small observation windows, all of which were dark.

With the final beep, they arrive at Phoebe's hybrid lab office. Phoebe pressed both palms against the lab door before opening it, eyes closed as if in prayer. "This is it," she whispered, then looked at them with gleaming eyes. She pushed open the door with ceremonial slowness.

Shelves line the end of each wall, partially filled as Phoebe slowly makes the space her own. Her desk remains messy, still uncleaned from the setup of her computer, and the middle lie components and machinery assembled in what looks like a grey metal capsule or conduit plated in sheets of metal and holes with empty ports; the space is oddly isolated, as if a spotlight were shining on it, disconnected from anything entirely.

Gazing on it invited an unpleasant aura that was only felt by Elise. She looked at others, their expressions unaffected by it, which led Elise to conclude that she alone felt drawn to the unassuming machine.

"Look at her," Phoebe breathed, approaching the machine like it was a religious altar. "Isn't she beautiful? Isn't she ever closer to perfection?" 

Her hands fluttered over the controls without touching them. "Now, where shall I begin delving into this?" Phoebe asks herself.