When the teacher announced the break, Romy dashed off behind Ezia’s long strides, the latter already speeding down the hallway with startling swiftness. Despite that, Reed managed to stay right on her heels, reaching out to grab the brunette’s shoulder to make her turn around. But before her hand could even brush the light fabric of Ezia’s t-shirt, she spun around with a twisted expression, and Romy stopped herself just in time to avoid colliding into her. Reflexively, she took a step back from the sudden movement, and immediately, Ezia’s face softened as she realized who had interrupted her sprint.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” Romy apologized, lifting her hands slightly between them to offer more space between their bodies.

The brunette looked at her for a moment with a smirk that made Romy feel as though a joke had gone over her head. Unsure how to respond to that shining gaze, Romy chose to keep talking, a quiet voice in the back of her mind warning her she might be making a fool of herself.

“You heading to the coffee machine? Can I buy you one? You know, for the favor you did me.”

Romy was already walking toward the machine, not waiting for a reply, determined to get her cup of coffee no matter the answer. But despite her supposedly confident stride, she couldn’t help but jolt in surprise when she felt an arm wrap around hers. Without a word, Ezia smiled wide, all teeth, and picked up the pace, dragging Romy along. The latter was a little thrown by the brunette’s behavior, oddly touchy with someone she had just been annoyed with not even an hour earlier.

"Hazelnut coffee," Ezia said simply, unhooking her arm and leaning her shoulder against the machine.

"Yes, ma’am," Romy muttered under her breath as she pulled her card from her pocket, a little annoyed.

She meant the comment to be lowkey, mumbled in her non-existent beard amid the background noise of a dozen students whose only break-time ritual was a caffeine fix. Still, Ezia raised her eyebrows in response without losing that smile, which even seemed to grow. If anyone else smiled at her like that, Romy thought, it would feel weird. But the brunette in her light clothes seemed innocently sincere. She absentmindedly passed Romy the recyclable paper cup, the scent of coffee spreading a warm and bitter familiarity through the hallway.

“My friend’s throwing a party with his frat on Friday. You wanna come?”

As Romy took a sip of her own drink, French vanilla, she nearly choked. Did she just… make a friend ? Thanks to an email issue and a cup of coffee? The word “yes” hovered on her tongue, a deep desire to socialize and drink until her brain shut off rising inside her. But then she remembered something waiting for her this weekend. A sweet thousand-dollar paycheck.

“Sorry Ezia, I’ve got plans Friday. But next time, I’m in.”

***

Romy’s first instinct upon meeting Aloys was to lie.

The man had planted himself in front of her as soon as she stepped through the lab’s doorway, his expression so disinterested that she almost asked if she was in the wrong place. He was tall and especially lean, giving him a gaunt appearance. His features were ordinary, yet she couldn’t deny the striking pull of his eyes, dark blue, razor-sharp, gleaming with intelligence like a lighthouse beam. His face remained unreadable, but his gaze scanned her like an X-ray. In response to her silent question, he held out his hand and said, 

"Phone, please."

“Ah… I broke it,” she replied, pretending to be annoyed. “Hope it’s not needed for the test.”

At his blank expression, Romy offered a timid smile. That seemed to do the trick, he silently moved into the room, giving her the pleasure of discovering where she’d be spending the night.

The lab was one in name only. The room stretched out like a long storage closet crammed with clutter. Tables were stacked high with chaotic piles of papers, massive science posters lined the walls showing what she assumed were research projects, and large futuristic-looking machines sat quietly in one corner, all bathed in the harsh glare of white neon tubes. 

Romy passed by Aloys, now seated behind the only desk that looked remotely usable. His computer sat there next to more paperwork, this time ordered in neat stacks. He faced the dark back wall, and as she drew closer, Romy realized that what she had thought was just a bad design choice must actually be a one-way mirror. She turned her head left and sure enough, she spotted a discreet door, half-hidden by a machine, likely leading to the back room. A loud throat-clearing broke the thick silence, and Romy turned back to see Aloys pointing to the chair across from the desk, her back to the window. She obediently sat, dropping her bag by her feet.

“Romy Mallory Reed?” he began.

“That’s me. Just Romy.”

“I’m Aloys Lévesque, assistant to the professor who couldn't be here today. He asked me to conduct the testing. You’ll go change, then settle in the room behind us, where a bed awaits. You’ll be monitored all night via electrodes, so try not to move too much. I’ll bring you a cold meal, you can watch TV or read. Lights out at 10:30 PM. I’ll be back at 7 AM with your breakfast and to disconnect the equipment, and then you’re free to go. Any questions ?”

Romy had rarely seen anyone speak so fast, so flatly, with such ease. Aloys felt more like a law student ready to out-argue a teenager than a PhD in biology.

“Yeah, one. Cash or transfer?”

He stared at her for a few seconds, those sharp blue eyes radiating enough boredom to make her feel small despite their probably close age gap. 

“Cash.”

***

As Romy wrestled with the tightly tucked sheets of what looked like a hospital bed, she realized how absurd her situation was. The back room was tiny with complete bare white walls. The only furniture was a glass-fronted cabinet full of books and an off-brand TV behind a window directly in front of the bed, presumably for Aloys’s convenience. Romy watched him carefully as he stood beside a machine, untangling wires she couldn’t begin to understand. His hands moved with practiced ease, and the suction cups at the end made the wires look like robotic octopus arms.

“I’ll attach the ones to your body first. For your head, it’ll be a kind of cap.”

Romy didn’t move, straightening her back and raising her arms to make things easier for him, grimacing when the cold gel on the electrodes touched her forearm. She’d made the mistake of wearing comfy pajamas, sport shorts as baggy as her T-shirt, and the stiff sheets felt like sandpaper that refused to warm with her body heat. If anything, the more electrodes he placed, the colder the bed seemed to grow.

“Can I lift your shirt ?”

Romy snapped her head toward Aloys so fast her neck cracked. She had already been self-conscious about wearing such an ugly pajama set in front of someone she might run into on campus. Her reaction didn’t seem to faze the tall blond, who shook the bundle of wires in his hand with a look that made his point obvious.

“For the electrodes,” he muttered, slightly annoyed. Romy relaxed a little and let out a sheepish laugh.

“Oh, yeah, of course. Go ahead.”

She clenched her jaw as his cold fingers grazed her back, her neck tensing as he applied the gel. It felt like someone was taping tiny ice cubes to her skin, and the sensation was so sudden and uncomfortable that she even forgot to feel embarrassed by his touch. Once done, Aloys secured the wires with tape. Then came the final touch, a strange black cap with countless multicolored cables. 

Romy felt like a lab rat when he pulled it over her head, and she carefully avoided his eyes when he leaned in front of her to adjust the rubber band beneath her chin. Everything about Aloys radiated chill, but she was more focused on how soon he’d warm up her bank account.

He straightened up. Despite his neutral expression, Romy could tell he was satisfied with his work.

“All done. See you tomorrow. Try not to move too much. If you need anything, use the wall phone.”

She looked toward the far wall, opposite the mirror, and sure enough, an old landline yellowed by time was bolted there.

“No phone on you? Tech devices? They mess with the readings.”

For a second, Romy considered telling the truth. But her phone, nestled safely in her pocket, begged her not to hand it over to a stranger. Honestly, she didn’t care much about the accuracy of their data. She was probably just one subject among many, and any inconsistency would get lost in the averages.

“Goodnight,” she said with a big smile.

Aloys didn’t respond. Romy frowned as she watched him leave and close the door. Not knowing if he was watching through the mirror, she turned on the TV and spent a full minute fluffing her pillows before letting out a dramatic sigh and sinking into the bed. The screen showed 9:30 PM. One more hour to kill before she slept and woke up $1,000 richer.

She flipped through channels for ten minutes before settling on a documentary about Canadian wolf packs. She had already been watching for about twenty minutes, lying comfortably despite the wires that would surely mark her when she woke up. Her eyelids were slowly drooping, and soon the documentary became nothing more than a soft beam of light through the thickness of her eyelashes. Then slowly, they shut completely.

***

She felt like she’d only closed her eyes for seconds. But when she opened them, the wolves had been replaced by Philippine bats. She hadn’t dreamed, her sleep had been a blank void. 

A sudden headache hit her and she groaned. Her pasty mouth didn't help, and Romy suspected that the cold of the anteroom and the lack of a glass of water were pushing her to dehydration. She thought about going back to sleep until morning, but as she stretched her aching limbs on the hospital mattress, she could feel a distinctive weight in the pocket of her pajamas.

Just in case there were cameras, Romy pulled the blanket over her head with an inhuman effort, and hidden from eyesight, fished out her phone. It had been on silent since she arrived, so she wasn’t surprised by the flood of notifications. The time read 00:00 AM. She cursed herself for watching TV too long and prayed there were no cameras. There were texts from her family group chat, a message from her dad, and… an email from Ezia?

From: Ezia.Cardinal@email.email  

Need your phone number pls.

Romy sent it to her without hesitation, but questions raced through her head. What could Ezia possibly want from her? They didn't know each other that well, other than having had coffee together once and talking in class; they were more acquaintances than anything else. 

She thought back to their few exchanges; each one had left her more confused than the last about Ezia's personality; one moment she felt like Ezia was looking down on her, then the next she was taking her arm as if they were longtime friends and asking her out. Romy decided she needed to be cautious. Either Ezia was incredibly two-faced or oddly transparent.

Her phone lit up again.

Unknown: I need a favor, it’s urgent.

Romy let out a sigh. The threads were itching terribly, and the sheets, although finally warmed by her own body, were still as rough as ever. And now she had to do a favor for a girl she'd only spoken to once. She thought back to the email and the sacrifice Ezia had made in class, inviting her to a party. Maybe Romy owed her something in return besides the coffee. Adding the Unknown number under the woman’s name, she replied.

Romy: What is it?

Ezia University: I’m in big trouble. Can you let me crash at your place tonight? I’ll pay for dinner and breakfast.

Romy couldn't believe her eyes. The audacity ! And all because she'd offered her coffee, the other thought she could show up at her house at midnight ? Her fingers tapped out a reply with a hint of annoyance.

Romy: I’m not home, sorry !

Ezia University: Please, Romy. I don’t know anyone else. Something happened. Just one night. I’ll give you my notes for the rest of the year.

This immediately caught her attention. Indeed, getting access to Ezia’s notes was particularly appealing, Ezia didn’t hide the fact that she was a rather serious, or at least passionate student, whereas Romy’s own notes looked more like a grocery list than an effective summary. But what really struck her were the possibilities hidden behind the phrase “something happened to me.” 

Right then, Romy imagined an Ezia with wide eyes filled with tears, her smile abandoned in some dark alley. Hesitation gripped her throat like an invisible hand, blood rushing to her head, but her thoughts were too torn in different directions to form a clear response.

Ezia University: I owe you. I swear.

She clenched her teeth. If Romy went back home, she could kiss her $1000 goodbye. But at the same time, if Ezia was really in bad shape, she knew she wouldn’t be able to look her in the eye on Monday, and that’s if the brunette even showed up alive. A thought then brushed her mind. No one had asked her to choose.

Romy could go, open the door for Ezia, and simply come back before 7 AM claiming the machines weren’t working. She had watched Aloys connect the wires, a rather easy task she was sure she could replicate, and the gel was still in the cabinet next to her. Romy bit her lower lip for a moment before turning back to her screen.

Romy: Okay. Meet me at 770B Bloomfield Street.

With a plan in mind, Romy didn’t wait for a reply before slipping her phone back into her pocket. The cold in the room licked uncomfortably at her face as she left the shelter of her sheets. The television was still playing panoramic videos of South America, casting colored light across the room, otherwise far too dark to feel peaceful. Her eyes scanned the walls, searching for a possible camera, but nothing caught her attention.

Then Romy took a deep breath. Her message was already sent, it was too late to back out. 

Her lungs released the cool air, and she sprang into action.