Thoo
"You bastards… I won't spare you or your Vice President. If you've done anything to my body—anything at all—I'll kill you. Do you understand? You filthy creatures…crawling worms of gutter."
SLAP!
A loud, sharp slap echoed through the air, cutting his words short. The force of it snapped his head slightly to the side, the sting burning across his cheek like fire.
"Now that's interesting…" the doctor said calmly, almost amused. "You really do have your family's blood running in you—fiery, aggressive… unpredictable."
The doctor leaned closer, his voice lowering into something colder.
"But—"
"Ahh… let me go!" the boy snapped.
"—here, I'll transform that blood into a calm, serene, and composed spirit–
"–Give me that serum."
"Let go of me! You Fucking Bastards Let me go! Ahh!"
For a moment, a deathly silence fell over the place.
"Take him away and lock him up in a corner of the lab where he belongs.".
The shadowy figures began to leave, their forms blurring as they departed. Silas hesitated, as if the sight had unsettled him.
"No."
Silas started walking after them without even thinking about what might happen if he went further. His body moved before his mind could stop him, as if something inside him was pulling him forward—urgent, desperate. But it was impossible to reach them… they were already too far ahead.
And then, suddenly—
A strong hand grabbed him from behind.
It clutched his arm with a firm, unyielding grip and pulled him back with a force that made him freeze in place.
"Where are you going?"
The voice hit him like ice.
Silas flinched.
"Haah…"
A small, breathless sound escaped him as he slowly turned his head.
The moment his eyes landed on the figure behind him, his soul seemed to leave his body.
His heart began pounding violently—loud, uncontrollable, as if it wanted to break out of his chest. His eyes widened in sheer terror, filling with a fear so deep it was almost unreal… like he had just seen a nightmare standing right in front of him.
It wasn't fully human.
It was a dark silhouette… a black shadow standing too close.
"Don't you recognized me, my dear Silas?"
That voice…
Something shifted inside him the moment he heard it.
It was familiar.
Too familiar.
Like a memory buried deep in pain and warmth at the same time. His mind struggled to recognize it, but his heart already knew. A strange emotion rose in his chest—soft, painful… like love mixed with fear.
His eyes began to shimmer with tears without permission. His lips trembled, unable to hold the storm inside him.
"Haah… uh… ha… b-b-brother…"
The word came out broken, barely formed. His voice shook so badly it felt like it didn't even belong to him.
And the moment that word left his lips, tears finally fell from his eyes.
Something in him softened… completely shattered.
His whole body felt weaker, as if that single word had drained him.
The black figure didn't respond with warmth.
Instead, slowly… deliberately… it placed a dark hand on Silas's chest.
A push.
Not gentle. Not cruel either. Just final.
Silas gasped as he was shoved backward.
Time seemed to slow.
For a brief moment, everything turned unreal—his falling body, the dim corridor, the shadow standing above him. It all stretched like a nightmare unfolding in slow motion.
Silas looked up, reaching out instinctively, trying to grab onto something—anything.
But the figure was already turning away.
Walking off.
Leaving him behind.
"Wait…!" his hand lifted weakly, but no voice came out strong enough.
And then—
Reality snapped back.
Silas hit the bed with a heavy thud.
Cold air rushed into his lungs as he blinked rapidly, disoriented. The hard surface beneath him was familiar… too familiar.
He wasn't in the corridor anymore or some strange place.
He was back in the same bed.
The same bed… the same room where he had opened his eyes for the very first time.
Silas lay there motionless for a second, as if his mind refused to accept what his eyes were seeing. Confusion slowly crept into him. His gaze shifted around the room—slowly, carefully—as though he was trying to confirm a nightmare he already knew the answer to.
And then it hit him.
This was the exact same place.
He had returned… back to where it all began.
His breath became uneven.
Panic started rising quietly in his chest.
He tried to move—instinctively, urgently—but the moment he shifted, he realized something horrifying.
His mouth was sealed shut.
"Mm—!"
A strip of tape covered his lips tightly, pressing against his skin, stealing his voice completely. No words, no calls for help—only muffled breaths trapped inside him.
Silas jerked his body upward, trying to sit.
"Mmngh—!"
But he couldn't.
His hands were bound tightly to the bed.
Thick restraints wrapped around his wrists, holding him down with an unshakable force. He pulled again—harder this time—his body trembling with effort.
The bed creaked slightly under the struggle.
His eyes filled with frustration and fear as he twisted his wrists violently, trying to break free.
"mngh—!"
But it was useless.
The bindings didn't loosen even a little.
Instead, the more he fought, the more pain shot through his wrists—sharp and burning, as if the ropes were punishing him for resisting.
Silas froze for a moment, breathing heavily through his nose.
His chest rose and fell quickly.
His eyes darted around the room, searching for anything—any sign of escape, any mistake, any weakness in the place that held him like a trap.
Clack.
The handle of the door near the window turned open.
The sharp metallic sound cut through the room like a warning.
A moment later, the door creaked and opened wider.
Footsteps followed.
And then, voices.
Doctors entered the room, talking among themselves as if Silas wasn't even a human being lying right in front of them… but a subject, an object—something to be examined.
One of them glanced at the bed and spoke casually, almost excited.
"So… is this the new test? The new experiment of the project?"
Another doctor nodded while adjusting his coat.
"Yes. The Vice President himself brought him in. He is part of a special experiment. We must handle him carefully… monitor him closely. Nothing should happen to him—otherwise the Vice President will not only get angry… he might destroy all of us."
A pause.
Then a nervous laugh.
"So we must be extremely careful."
The first doctor tilted his head, studying Silas like a specimen.
"If the Vice President is saying this much… then this is no ordinary subject. We are holding a treasure here, aren't we?"
The others nodded in agreement.
Silas heard everything.
Every word.
And yet… he couldn't speak. The tape on his mouth swallowed even his breath.
His heart began to pound again—but this time it wasn't just fear.
It was something deeper.
Something worse.
He struggled violently against the restraints, his body twisting against the bed. The ropes bit into his wrists, but he didn't stop. Panic was rising inside him like fire.
He tried to scream—but only muffled sounds escaped behind the tape.
The doctors moved closer.
Too close.
One of them leaned in, observing him with cold curiosity.
Silas' eyes darted between them, desperate, confused, searching for any sign of humanity… any hesitation.
But all he saw was clinical detachment.
Then one doctor spoke again, almost in disbelief:
"Wow… the Vice President is willing to go this far? Is he trying to destroy his own family… for this?"
Silence followed.
Heavy.
Uncomfortable.
Doctor exhaled slowly.
"Give me the file."
Silas froze.
Fear deepened.
The doctor pulled out the syringe with calm, practiced movements, as if this was just another routine step in a long, mechanical procedure.
Silas saw it.
And the moment he did, his body reacted before his mind could even process what was about to happen.
He shook his head violently, eyes wide with panic. His wrists pulled against the restraints again and again, the bed creaking under the force of his struggle. The tape over his mouth muffled every desperate sound he tried to make—turning his fear into silent, broken breaths.
A doctor stepped closer without hesitation.
His hand moved toward Silas' neck.
Silas tried to pull away instinctively, twisting his body as much as the bindings allowed, but there was nowhere to go. The bed held him down like a trap designed perfectly for his body.
The doctor's voice came cold and controlled, almost soothing in tone, but empty of real emotion.
"Don't be afraid. As soon as this is injected, we will try to give you less pain as much as possible."
There was no waiting.
No hesitation.
The sharp tip of the syringe pressed against Silas' neck.
For a fraction of a second, everything inside him froze—not his body this time, but his awareness. A silent realization that he was completely at their mercy.
And then—
The needle pierced his skin.
A sharp, burning sting shot through him.
The liquid inside began to flow in, cold and unnatural as it spread through his body. Silas' eyes widened in shock, his breath catching violently behind the tape.
He tried to fight it.
He tried to move.
But it was already too late.
Within seconds, his strength started slipping away like sand falling through his fingers.
His trembling slowed.
His struggling weakened.
The tension in his wrists loosened—not because the restraints were gone, but because his body no longer had the energy to resist them.
His eyes, once filled with panic and resistance, began to lose focus.
The sharp fear in them dulled… replaced by something heavy and distant.
His head tilted slightly against the bed, movements becoming slow, disconnected.
It felt like his body was being shut down one system at a time.
Arms… still.
Hands… numb.
Eyes… heavy.
Even his thoughts began to drift apart, like they were sinking into deep water.
The doctors watched carefully, observing every change with clinical precision.
Silas' body finally stopped fighting completely.
A strange silence settled over him—not peace, not relief… but a forced stillness, as if his body had been switched off while his mind was still faintly aware somewhere far away.
And then—
Everything blurred.
The room, the doctors, the bed… all of it faded into a dull, distant haze as darkness slowly began to take over his consciousness.
....
Silas screamed—loud, raw, breaking through the silence like glass shattering in the dark.
"Nooo!"
His body jerked upward from the hospital bed in one sudden gasp, as if he had been pulled out of drowning water. His chest heaved violently.
"Haa… haaa… haaa…"
Air rushed into his lungs in uneven, desperate breaths. His heart was beating too fast—so fast it felt painful, like it was still trying to escape whatever nightmare had just ended.
Sweat covered his face completely. His hair stuck to his forehead. His eyes were wide open, unfocused, lost between dream and reality.
The room around him was dark.
Heavy silence filled every corner.
Only a faint, cold light slipped through the window.
The window was open.
And near it—
A figure stood.
Silas didn't notice him at first. His mind was still tangled in fear, still trying to convince itself that it was over.
"It was just a dream… right? Nothing is real… Silas, relax…"
He tried to calm himself, swallowing hard as he slowly turned his head.
His gaze drifted.
Right.
Then left.
And then—
He froze.
"Huh…"
The moment his eyes landed on the window, his entire body flinched violently.
But not because someone was standing there.
No.
It was because he recognized the presence.
The silhouette.
The posture.
The way the person stood so still, as if they belonged more to the night than to the room.
Everything about them felt familiar in a way that made his stomach drop.
Outside, the sky was deep black.
Stars scattered across it like distant, watching eyes. The moon had just broken free from the clouds, and its pale white light poured through the open window, spilling into the dark room.
That silver glow touched the figure.
Revealing them slowly.
White hair—soft, slightly moving with the cold night breeze coming through the window. The strands shimmered faintly under the moonlight, almost unreal.
The figure stood still… completely calm… as if they had been waiting.
Then, slowly—
They turned.
And the moonlight fell fully across their face.
Silas felt his breath stop.
Because the face he saw was not a stranger.
It was someone he knew.
Someone he remembered.
A presence that always came with trouble.
A voice that always sounded calm… even when everything around it was chaos.
The figure spoke.
"So, you've regained your sense.?"
Silas' eyes widened slightly.
It wasn't just anyone.
It was Ashir.
The same one.
The same problem.
To Be Continued...