Emerging from the House of Omega after her criminology lecture, Elise felt the familiar weight of another fruitless week. A week of sleepless nights had passed since Blanchette's visit, each one blurring into the next. Her investigations led to nothing but dead ends and splitting headaches. Every promising lead seemed to slip away the moment she tried to focus on it, like trying to hold water in cupped hands.

Walking through the courtyard, she momentarily took in the garden still full of colour despite being overdue for its seasonal withering. Its unnatural persistence earned her usual contempt. Familiar giggling among the student chatter made her look up from her brooding.

There was Aris in his smart casual attire, talking to someone on a bench she hadn't noticed before. His auburn hair was unmistakable, even from this distance. The sharp pain behind her eyes flared as she watched him, a warning against venturing past her station. "It's not like I can do anything with nothing to work off of," she muttered at the pain as if it would hear her woes. But she couldn't shake the suspicion that Lyle knew more than he let on, about her headaches, about Aris, about everything. The thought sent another spike through her skull, punishing her for her curiosity, but Elise took it as confirmation. He was her key to answers.

As she drew closer, she got a clearer view: Aris bore dark rings under his eyes that matched her own, while beside him sat a girl with faded purple hair and brilliant yellow eyes that dimmed as Elise approached. The girl wore a grey bishop's hoodie and a long skirt, though with her small stature, any skirt would have looked long on her.

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

Aris looked up with genuine surprise, his face brightening slightly. "Elise! Hey." There was warmth there, despite his obvious exhaustion. Phoebe's excited expression dimmed as she took in Elise's pale complexion and dark-circled eyes, unable to tell if it was from exhaustion or an attempt at gothic makeup. However, her orange sweater and denim jeans had her leaning toward the former.

"How's it been going for you guys lately?" Elise started the conversation, nudging Aris's frame, which had grown slightly tense.

Aris's coursework had kept their conversations brief, but he hadn't forgotten their easy connection. But Phoebe brought in another dimension, leaving him unsure of how to proceed with this interruption to their conversation.

"Ahh..." Aris started, then caught himself, offering a more genuine smile. "Sorry, I know we haven't had much chance to catch up properly. This is Phoebe— the researcher I mentioned before." He gestured between them. "And Phoebe, this is Elise, the upcoming ace detective I was telling you about."

This is so unbearable, Phoebe thought, her smile tightening as she watched the easy familiarity between them. Her fingers drummed against the bench. "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.

"You two look like you've been busy. What's the latest project?" Elise seeming eager to make her acquaintance.

"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 researcher. On the way, Elise trailed behind with Aris matching her pace, instinctively creating a gap between them and Phoebe so she could ask quietly, "What's with the tension?"

Aris takes a moment to think of his answer, but realisation begins to dawn on him that she may not be judging him, given her tone. He eased up a bit, "I didn't expect to run into you today, I guess."

"How have things been with classes aside from the whole killer assignment thing?" Phoebe hears Elise's indiscernible chatter behind her as her eyes twitch in annoyance. She walks past the columns, her fists clenching 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, faintly humming and casting everything in a sterile white glow.

"Pretty impressive, right? They don't let just anyone back here," Phoebe mentioned casually, glancing back at Elise. "My research is... let's say it requires some extra privacy." 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 in 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.

Phoebe looks at her machine inquisitively. Searching through the ports, the human-oriented dimensions, the wires and pipes flowing throughout it.

"You know how some people just... never awaken? Despite having the genetic markers, the potential?" Phoebe's voice carries personal frustration. "It's a letdown letting talent go to waste because of biological lottery tickets."

Phoebe caressed the machine, tracing the paths of her wiring, eventually having her hand trail behind a padded area, where a head would lie. Aris watched in wonder, trying to figure out its workings himself. "The war brought about the emergence of Omega and its applications to humans, but its success has always been a thing of chance. Some say that using it in such a way is against God's will, modifying his perfect image with failures and successes being declared as divine decrees by some religious figureheads." Catching herself drifting into a tangent, she fixes her posture before resuming. "Attempts were made to make them more predictable, but they were too crude and rushed. I'm... refining their approach."

As Phoebe speaks, Elise's headache sharpens. Elise tries to keep her expression placid, but can't help but step back unconsciously, her hand drifting to her temple, her guts churn, and blood runs cold with anger simmering in her chest. The machine seems to pulse in rhythm with her supernatural experiences.

"Forced awakening?" Elise's voice comes out tighter than intended. "What happens if someone doesn't want to be awakened?"

Phoebe scoffs, "Who wouldn't? Prolonged life, enhanced bodily strength, enhanced regeneration, enhanced everything, there isn't a single downside! I'm giving people access to their birthright; they are entitled to its privileges, everyone should have the opportunity to participate in this frontier."

As Phoebe explains the machine, Aris steps closer, his exhaustion from class forgotten. "So you could give someone abilities they weren't born with?" His voice drops to a whisper.

His fingers hover inches from the machine's surface, not quite touching but clearly wanting to. The same boy who felt powerless in White's lecture hall is now imagining himself... capable. "What would that feel like? The awakening process? Has anyone... volunteered to test it?"

"I wish I could tell you," Phoebe says, reminiscing with mixed emotions. "But I was much too young to understand it, and since then it has been ever present, my normal. I don't know what it's like to be without it."

Phobe's voice rises, awakened from her reminiscing, "And your phrasing is interesting, 'giving abilities'. The primary goal was to awaken what's already there, but being able to transfer abilities, choose their abilities." She pauses as possibilities dawn on her. "The implications... This democratises Omega down to the individual level!" Phoebe's voice rose in grandeur.

"That sounds incredible," Aris breathes, his voice filled with longing.

"But when it comes to volunteers? I haven't gotten that far yet." Her voice was almost a gasp from realising how far she was from actualising her vision, but it contorted into laughter as she realised, I'm so far yet I alone am on this pursuit. No one can deny me the legacy that it comes with, Dad!

Phoebe's laugh sent another chill through Elise, and with each step Aris takes toward the machine, Elise's blood runs colder. Her headache sharpens into ice picks behind her eyes. The machine seems to pulse in rhythm with her metaphysical warning system.

At the exact moment, Elise steps back, her voice tight: "I ask again, in this democratised world, what happens to people who don't want to be 'awakened'?"