Seven opened his eyes.
His vision was blurred at first.
Like a thin layer of mist.
Not dense.
But enough to soften every outline.
White.
A quiet, endless white.
Light fell from above.
Not harsh.
As if filtered through something.
After a few seconds,
the outlines slowly sharpened.
Lines settled back into place.
The ceiling.
Familiar light fixtures.
Arranged in order.
Row after row.
The casing of the lights was a semi-translucent milky white.
The illumination was soft.
Even.
Not the blunt cold light of the training room.
No shadows either.
The entire space felt wrapped in a gentle brightness.
The air was quiet.
No voices.
No footsteps.
Only a faint sound.
Like some device running at low speed.
There was a light medicinal scent in the air.
Not sharp.
Just faint.
Like a sterilized room.
And a trace of herbal fragrance.
Very light.
Barely there.
Blended into the air.
Making each breath slow and steady.
Seven blinked.
His eyelids felt slightly heavy.
But not uncomfortable.
His awareness gradually returned.
His thoughts gathered from emptiness.
Like scattered threads being pulled back together.
This was the infirmary.
The conclusion came almost instantly.
The scent.
The lighting.
The ceiling layout.
All too familiar.
He didn't sit up immediately.
He simply lay there quietly.
His body felt heavy.
As if gently pressed into the mattress.
No pain in his limbs.
But a lingering fatigue.
Like muscles after prolonged strain.
His mind, however, had already begun to recall.
Images surfaced one by one.
The training room.
Gray floor.
Walls.
Barrier.
Gravity.
The sensation of air being compressed.
And that moment—
When his consciousness was cut off.
Like a line suddenly severed.
Memory stopped there.
Everything after was blank.
Seven stared at the ceiling.
The light wavered faintly in his eyes.
He remained silent for a while.
Then slowly raised his hand.
The movement was slow.
His arm lifted off the bed.
His palm pressed against his forehead.
Cool skin.
Cool fingertips.
The sensation cleared his thoughts further.
"Lost, huh."
He murmured.
Not loud.
But clear.
In the silent room,
it sounded especially direct.
This was the first time.
A true defeat.
Not the kind in training where things stopped short.
Not a mutual probe.
No probing.
No holding back.
No luck involved.
Pure difference in ability.
And not a small gap.
A structural one.
The Supervisor had not used anything complex.
Hadn't even truly attacked.
Only tested.
Analyzed.
Observed.
Then found the structural weakness.
Final strike.
Clean.
Precise.
No wasted motion.
Like dismantling something already understood.
Seven exhaled slowly.
The breath left his chest.
The pressure eased slightly.
He raised his hand again.
Lightly tapped his forehead.
A soft sound.
"Terrible."
He said.
Not just that he lost.
He barely understood it.
The process of the barrier breaking—
He had only seen one thing.
The Supervisor found a point.
Then broke through.
And it ended.
But why that point existed—
Why it became a structural weakness—
Seven still couldn't fully grasp it.
His thoughts circled that fragment of memory.
Breaking it apart.
Reassembling it.
Still no answer.
The problem now—
He had become vulnerable.
The barrier was his core ability.
The center of his combat system.
If even that could be broken—
Then every future fight would become dangerous.
Seven closed his eyes.
His breathing steadied.
A few seconds later—
Footsteps entered the room.
Light steps.
Even rhythm.
Not hurried.
"You're awake?"
A voice.
Gentle.
Relaxed.
Seven opened his eyes.
Elena stood beside the bed.
She wore a white infirmary coat.
Clean fabric.
No wrinkles.
Sleeves neat.
Her hair was simply tied back.
No decoration.
A few loose strands rested by her ears.
She held a small metal tray.
The edges reflected faint light.
On it—
a glass of water.
Surface slightly trembling.
And several tablets.
Neatly placed on white paper.
She looked at him.
A faint smile on her face.
Subtle.
Softening her expression.
"How do you feel now?"
she asked.
"Any discomfort?"
Seven sat up.
Faster than before.
His body swayed slightly.
Balance shifted.
His shoulders adjusted.
Then stabilized.
"No problem."
His voice had returned to normal.
Elena nodded.
She set the tray on the nearby table.
A soft metallic tap.
"That's good."
"When you were brought in, you were already unconscious."
"No physical damage."
"Just short-term gravity compression."
Seven rubbed the back of his neck.
His palm pressed lightly.
Muscles slightly stiff.
Then relaxed.
"The Supervisor didn't control his strength?"
Elena smiled slightly.
"I don't think so."
"More like intentional."
Seven looked at her.
She shrugged casually.
"Joseph doesn't like holding back."
"Especially during training."
She walked to a small cabinet.
Opened it.
Inside—neatly arranged boxes.
She took out a small metal tin.
Its surface worn.
Edges slightly scratched.
Opened it.
Several packets of tea leaves inside.
Different colors.
She picked one.
"Didn't expect you to train with Joseph,"
she said, placing a kettle on the heater.
The switch clicked.
Water began to warm.
A faint bubbling sound.
"Even in the military, not many people are willing to spar with him."
Seven looked at her.
"Why?"
Elena smiled again.
"Because they lose badly."
Water boiled.
The sound grew clearer.
She took out a thin white porcelain cup.
Placed the leaves inside.
Hot water poured in.
The leaves swirled slowly.
A faint aroma spread.
Not black tea.
Lighter.
Calmer.
Like herbal tea.
A soft scent filled the air.
"For stabilizing the mind,"
Elena said.
"Helps with recovery."
She handed him the cup.
Seven took it.
The cup was warm.
"Thanks."
He blew lightly.
Steam rose.
He took a sip.
Not bitter.
Slightly sweet.
Warmth flowed down his throat.
His body relaxed.
Elena leaned against the table.
Hands resting lightly.
Watching him.
"Joseph said something."
Seven looked up.
"What?"
She smiled a little more.
"He said—"
"You might surpass him in a few years."
Silence for a moment.
The tea scent lingered.
Seven took another sip.
Then exhaled softly.
"In a few years."
His tone flat.
"The problem is, there's no time."
Elena looked at him.
A hint of curiosity.
"What?"
"You're in a hurry?"
Seven paused.
His gaze dropped to the cup.
The leaves had settled at the bottom.
He shook his head.
"Oh."
"Nothing."
Casual tone.
As if it meant nothing.
Elena watched him for a moment.
As if confirming something.
But didn't press further.
She just smiled lightly.
"Students are always like this."
"Always thinking time isn't enough."
Seven didn't reply.
He placed the cup down.
A soft ceramic tap.
His body had mostly recovered.
Elena refilled the tea.
They chatted casually.
Training.
Classes.
Recent academy arrangements.
Calm tone.
No arguments.
Time passed.
Seven finished the tea.
Only a few leaves remained.
He set the cup down.
Stood up.
Fully stable now.
"That's enough."
Elena nodded.
"Don't push yourself too hard."
Same gentle tone.
Seven smiled slightly.
"Don't worry."
Then turned and left the infirmary.
The door opened.
The corridor was quiet.
Afternoon.
Few people.
Even lighting.
A long hallway stretching ahead.
Seven walked forward.
Unhurried steps.
Soft echoes.
A few minutes later—
He stopped in front of a door.
Name on it:
Green.
Office.
Seven knocked.
Two light taps.
"Come in."
A voice from inside.
He pushed the door open.
The office was not large.
But orderly.
A bookshelf covered one wall.
Books packed tightly.
Different shades.
Documents neatly stacked on the desk.
And a photo frame.
Green sat behind the desk.
Looked up.
"Oh."
"Seven."
"What brings you here?"
Seven didn't answer immediately.
His gaze fell on the photo.
A five-year-old child.
Jim.
Smiling brightly.
Seven took something from his pocket.
A bottle of black coffee.
Unopened.
Slightly cold.
He placed it on the desk.
Green glanced at it.
Then smiled.
"Just say it."
"What's with the gift?"
Seven smiled faintly.
"Then I'll be direct."
He leaned forward slightly.
Lowered his voice.
"Can I meet the current principal?"
Silence.
The air seemed to pause.
Green's smile faded slowly.
He looked at Seven.
A bit troubled.
"The current principal…"
"Not someone who deals in favors."
He paused.
Shook his head.
"No chance."
Seven said nothing.
Green picked up the coffee.
Opened it.
Poured powder into a cup.
Hot water followed.
A strong aroma spread.
Heavier than tea.
More bitter.
He pushed the cup to Seven.
Seven didn't refuse.
Pulled a chair.
Sat down.
Took a sip.
Strong bitterness.
Seven looked out the window.
"Ever since the principal changed,"
he said,
"this academy feels… wrong."
Green stayed silent.
Seven continued.
"Doesn't it feel more like a laboratory?"
Green's body stiffened slightly.
He slowly set his cup down.
Lowered his voice.
"…You're right."
"The upper management has become aggressive."
He glanced at the door.
Made sure no one was there.
Then continued.
"To be honest…"
"My wife and I—"
"We don't want to stay here anymore."
Seven nodded.
"Unfortunate."
"But you should decide soon."
He paused.
Voice even lower.
"My instincts are warning me."
"Something will happen."
Silence again.
Green didn't speak.
The coffee scent thickened in the air.
Seven finished the cup.
Only residue remained.
He stood up.
"Thanks for the coffee."
Then turned and left.
To avoid attention,
his steps quickened.
The office door closed.
A soft click.
The corridor returned to silence.