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Night fell, and the cold winter wind, carrying scattered snowflakes, beat against the floor-to-ceiling windows of a high-end villa in Manhattan.
Inside, the flames in the fireplace leaped cheerfully, bathing the entire living room in a warm orange glow. The air was filled with the dry scent of burning wood and the sweet fragrance of lemon tea.
The evening financial news was playing on the massive LCD TV screen.
The anchorwoman announced the end of an era in a clinical, formulaic tone devoid of any emotion.
"...Under the devastating impact of the terrorist attack by Morpheus D. Duval, its long-term financial backer, the global pharmaceutical giant Umbrella Corporation, saw its stock price completely collapse today. After months of failed asset liquidation and restructuring, the Umbrella board officially filed for bankruptcy protection with the Federal Court at 3:00 PM today..."
The news footage cut to the red-and-white Umbrella logo. Amidst a flurry of camera flashes, workers slowly dismantled it from the front of the headquarters, letting it fall heavily to the ground, where it shattered into pieces.
Claire leaned back on the soft sofa, covered with a thick cashmere blanket.
She was over seven months pregnant, and her bulging abdomen gave her entire being a gentle and plump maternal glow.
She watched the ridiculous and pathetic scene on the television, her face showing no ecstatic joy of revenge, but only the peace and relief of the dust finally settling.
This behemoth that had once spread terror and disaster throughout the world, this source of evil that had pushed her and those she loved to the brink of despair several times, had finally met its deserved end in such an undignified manner.
"Serves them right," Claire whispered, picking up the warm water beside her and taking a small sip.
"Claire, look, he kicked me again!"
Sherry carefully pressed her cheek against Claire's belly and suddenly cried out in surprise. She looked up, her clear eyes full of novelty and excitement.
Noah sat on the other side of the sofa, focused on peeling an apple with a small fruit knife.
Hearing Sherry's cry, he stopped and followed her example, leaning his ear close.
"Thump~"
A steady and powerful fetal movement clearly reached his ears through the abdominal wall.
It was a wonderful feeling, like a tiny heart full of vitality beating a drum right next to his ear.
"It seems our family's future new member is an energetic young man." Noah looked up at Claire, the tenderness in his eyes almost overflowing.
"How do you know it's a boy?" Claire raised an eyebrow defiantly. "Maybe it's a beautiful and cute little princess like me?"
"Either is fine, either is fine." Noah raised his hands in surrender with a smile. He cut the peeled apple into small pieces, picked one up with a toothpick, and held it to Claire's mouth. "As long as he's yours, I'll love him."
Claire opened her mouth to take it. The sweetness of the apple dissolved in her mouth, warming her heart.
She watched Noah and Sherry, the two of them like curious babies, continuing to lean over her stomach and saying silly things like "Baby, kick again." The smile on her face could no longer be hidden.
The wind and snow outside seemed to grow heavier, but the warmth inside was enough to melt all the ice and snow of winter.
For this small family, the fall of Umbrella was merely a topic for post-dinner conversation.
Their true world was each other on the sofa, the new life about to arrive in the womb, and this hard-won, peaceful life of a man with his wife and child... The next day, New York, a highly classified biological research institute under the BSAA North America Division.
The air here was cold and sterile, filled with the smell of disinfectant.
In the spotless white corridor, the only sound was the faint hum of machinery.
Ten-year-old Jake Muller followed an expressionless man in a black suit down the seemingly endless corridor.
His mother, Kandy Muller, was lying on an automated hospital bed, being pushed beside them by several medical staff in white protective suits.
Jack's small hand gripped the bed's railing tightly, his gaze never leaving his mother's paper-pale face.
Kandy had fallen into a semi-conscious state. Years of poverty and illness had left her organs failing, her flame of life like a candle in the wind, liable to go out at any moment.
The mysterious organization that claimed it could cure his mother had brought them all the way here from the dirty, dilapidated town of Edonia.
Jack's heart was filled with vigilance and unease.
He was like a beast trapped in a cage, his spikes raised as he surveyed this strange and cold environment.
Finally, the group stopped in front of a heavy alloy door.
The man in the black suit leading them, Trant's subordinate "Nyx," verified his iris and fingerprints on the scanner beside the door.
"Sshhh—"
The alloy door slid open silently to both sides, revealing a more spacious and bright laboratory inside.
A figure in a white lab coat with short, neat hair stood before a complex piece of equipment, analyzing data.
Hearing the door open, she turned around.
When Jack saw the woman's face, he froze in place.
His mind went blank for an instant.
It was an incredibly familiar face that he saw every day in his dreams and in reality.
Exquisite features, soft facial lines, and blue eyes like a pure, waveless ocean.
That face was almost identical to the photos of his mother on the bed when she was young.
No, it was even more moving than in the photos.
She was young, healthy, and full of vitality; her whole being seemed to glow.
Jack stared at her blankly, unable to tell for a moment if he was dreaming.
He even had an absurd thought.
Could it be that God had heard his prayers and sent an angel down to save his mother?
Rebecca Chambers also saw Kandy Muller on the bed, and the expression on her face was equally full of shock.
As a top scientist for the BSAA, she had long known of the existence of this woman who looked so much like her through internal files, as well as her entanglement with the man named Albert Wesker.
But seeing this woman, broken by fate, with her own eyes, an indescribable surge of complex emotions still rose in Rebecca's heart.
"Transfer her to the ICU immediately," Rebecca quickly regained her professional composure and issued instructions to the medical staff behind her.
"Connect her to life support and perform a full monitoring of her physiological indicators."
The bed was quickly pushed into the interior of the research institute.
Jack instinctively tried to follow, but Rebecca reached out and gently stopped him.
"Don't worry, child." Rebecca knelt down so that her eyes were level with Jack's. Her voice was gentle and filled with a reassuring power.
"We will use the best equipment and medicine to do our best to save your mother. What you need to do now is rest."
Looking at this face so similar to his mother's and hearing that gentle voice he had only heard when his mother was healthy, the defenses of Jack's tightly wound heart collapsed in an instant.
He couldn't say a word; he just bit his lip hard, his eyes uncontrollably turning red.
Just then, a light footstep came from the other end of the laboratory.
"Rebecca, the gene sequence comparison results for Sample 2 are out. It's just as I expected... Huh? Whose kid is this?"
Sherry was holding a tablet, talking as she walked. When she saw Jack kneeling on the floor with red eyes, she stopped curiously.
Today she was wearing a loose white hooded sweatshirt and jeans, her short blonde hair tied into a playful ponytail, radiating the brightness and vitality of a young girl.
Jack turned his head and saw Sherry.
She was a very beautiful older sister.
Her skin was as white as milk, her features as delicate as a Barbie doll's, and her blue eyes, in particular, seemed to contain stars as they curiously surveyed him.
Jack's heart skipped a beat for no reason.
On his slightly pale face—pale from malnutrition—two unnatural flushes suddenly rose, and even the tips of his ears began to burn.
He had fought, he had robbed, and he had never backed down even when facing grown men three times his size.
But now, in front of this beautiful older sister, he was so nervous he didn't even know where to put his hands.
Sherry looked at the boy in front of her, who was a head shorter than her and as thin as a bean sprout, yet trying so hard to put on a fierce expression while his face turned as red as a monkey's butt. She found it a bit funny.
"Hi, what's your name?" Sherry leaned down and gave him a friendly smile.
Jack was momentarily dazed by her brilliant smile. He opened his mouth, but because he was too nervous, not a single word came out.
"Hey, I'm talking to you." Seeing his dazed look, Sherry couldn't help but reach out a finger and poke his cheek.
Jack's face turned even redder. He instinctively took a step back and finally summoned his courage, asking in a voice barely louder than a mosquito's buzz, "Big... Big Sister, what's your name?"
Hearing this title, Sherry blinked and intentionally put on a serious face, saying in a solemn tone, "Call me Auntie."
Jack: "..."
His expression instantly froze, and he was petrified on the spot.
Seeing Jack's devastated look, as if his world had collapsed, Rebecca finally couldn't help but burst out laughing.
"Haha, okay Sherry, stop teasing him." Rebecca stood up and ruffled Sherry's hair. "You're not much older than him; calling you'sister' is correct."
"Fine, fine." Sherry stuck out her tongue, also feeling that her joke just now was a bit much.
She reached out her hand to Jack again, her face wearing a sincere apology and a smile.
"My name is Sherry Birkin. I also have a Chinese name, Lin Xueli."
Jack stared blankly at her outstretched hand. It took several seconds for him to react, and he hurriedly reached out his own small hand—covered in calluses and scars from years of fighting and manual labor—and gently shook hers.
Her hand was so soft and warm.
"I... I'm Jack... Jake Muller..."
This was the first time he had said his name to a stranger without feeling shame or anger, but rather... an indescribable, strange nervousness... The best doctors, the most advanced equipment, and the most expensive drugs.
The mysterious organization had fulfilled its promise.
In the final period of her life, Kandy Mueller enjoyed treatment she had never dared to dream of in her entire life.
She stayed in a private ICU room that was as warm as spring and always had fresh flowers.
She no longer had to endure that heart-wrenching cough, nor did she have to worry about her next meal.
But all of this came too late.
The virus had long since riddled her body with holes. Her life force was like a sandbag with countless leaks, impossible to refill.
Half a month later, on a bright and sunny afternoon, Kandy Mueller closed her eyes forever in her sleep.
She passed away peacefully, with even a slight smile of contentment on her face.
Perhaps, for her, this was already the best ending.
Jack sat alone by his mother's bed for an entire day.
He didn't cry or make a scene; he just sat there, like a lifeless statue.
Sherry and Rebecca came to see him several times, wanting to comfort him but not knowing what to say.
Any words seemed pale and powerless in the face of death.
It wasn't until the sun set and the last ray of light shone in through the window, stretching his shadow very, very long.
Jack finally moved.
He stood up, walked to his mother's bed, leaned down, and gently pressed a kiss onto her cold forehead.
Then, without looking back, he walked out of the room.
From that day on, Jack became even more silent.
He began to frantically accept all kinds of training arranged for him by the organization.
Combat, shooting, tactics, intelligence analysis... He was like a dry sponge, absorbing all the knowledge and skills that could make him stronger with a posture that bordered on greed.
The powerful genes inherited from his father, which had been dormant in his Bloodline, were also completely awakened during day after day of extreme training.
He became stronger and stronger, so strong that even the battle-hardened instructors responsible for training him felt a sense of dread.
Besides training, the only thing he would do was stay in Rebecca's laboratory.
He wouldn't disturb Rebecca's work; he would just pull up a small stool and sit quietly in a corner, watching the woman who looked exactly like his mother, dressed in a white lab coat, busy moving between various precision instruments.
It was as if just by looking at her, his heart, which had become empty due to the loss of his mother, could find a shred of solace.
Perhaps it was because of that innate attachment to a "mother" figure, or perhaps it was because Rebecca was the only one who would care for and look after him like family.
Jack became very dependent on Rebecca and listened to her most of all.
Only in front of Rebecca and Sherry would this Young Weapon—who appeared to outsiders as a cold and powerful monster—occasionally let down his guard and reveal that tiny bit of vulnerability and confusion appropriate for his age.
After training ended that day, Jack returned to the room the organization had arranged for him.
He took a locked diary out of a drawer.
He turned to a new page, picked up a pen, and wrote today's entry under the lamp.
[Mother passed away.
That man didn't come.
He didn't even come to her funeral, didn't come to say a word of apology for the crimes he committed.
The guy in the black suit said that Mother's illness was a very special one, and the source was that man.
It was he who gave Mother hope, then personally pushed her into the abyss of despair.
It was he who gave me life, yet let me and Mother struggle in Hell for ten years.
Ha, how ironic!
Now if anyone asks me what I would want to say to my father if I ever met him one day.
My answer is, I won't say anything.
I will use these fists of mine to take him down.
Let him go before God and repent to Mother.
Though, he might never be able to do that.
Because in my view, a bastard like him deserves to go to Hell even more.]
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