Chapter 11 - A Tour of Key Industries

  Ezra still wasn’t used to the power that came with the White Card.

  He wasn’t used to stepping off private jets like he belonged there. He wasn’t used to people addressing him as an equal in corporate environments. And he definitely wasn’t used to being personally greeted by the head of one of the most powerful industries on Earth.

  Yet, here he was. Mr. Key stood waiting for him at the entrance of Key Industries, his usual confident smirk in place. "Welcome to your future, Ezra."

  Ezra let out a slow breath, taking in the titan of a building before him—a masterpiece of cutting-edge architecture, filled with impossible technology, its presence alone radiating power and control.

  Even though he had spent years preparing for this, something about being here for real made it more intimidating than any exam he had ever taken.

  And yet—It was also thrilling.

  Mr. Key personally led Ezra through the sprawling facility, and with every door that opened, his world expanded further.

  "This," Mr. Key gestured toward the first lab, "is our materials division. The strongest alloys in the solar system? The ones keeping orbital colonies intact? The hulls of space stations? All tested and perfected here."

  Through the reinforced glass, Ezra saw scientists running simulations on metallic structures exposed to intense gravitational fields—watching as matter bent and reformed under forces humanity had only begun to understand.

  Mr. Key moved on, leading him through sleek white corridors, past employees in pristine suits and White-Coat researchers moving between projects.

  They entered another sector of the facility, and Mr. Key gestured outward. "And this? Our graviton wave research sector."

  Ezra’s eyes widened as he saw massive containment rings suspended in a zero-g chamber. He had read about this—graviton fields being manipulated to store and extract energy at unfathomable scales. "We’re currently stabilizing a way to make graviton waves more efficient in energy transfer, potentially eliminating waste losses in antimatter reactors. If successful, we could increase global power output by another 30% in a single decade."

  Ezra let out a slow whistle. This wasn’t just science for the sake of knowledge. This was humanity’s future being rewritten in real-time.

  At the final stop of the tour, Mr. Key led him to a high-tech facility located at the heart of the research division. The door slid open automatically, and Ezra’s breath hitched. It was his own personal lab. Not just a workstation.

  A full-fledged, state-of-the-art lab, equipped with quantum processing arrays, material synthesizers, energy field projectors, and every piece of cutting-edge technology he could dream of. It was his playground now.

  Ezra stepped inside, running his fingers over the smooth interface of the main control panel.

  "You’ve got free rein," Mr. Key said, watching him carefully. "Whatever research you pursue, the resources are yours."

  Ezra turned to him. "And what exactly do you need me to do?"

  Mr. Key smiled. "That, Ezra, you’ll figure out soon enough. Get settled first. WCU was just education. The real work is only just starting."

  Ezra’s pulse quickened. This was real. This wasn’t just theoretical studies or tests designed to mess with his head. This was humanity’s next leap forward—and now, he was a part of it.

  As Mr. Key turned to leave, he paused at the doorway. "When you're done moving in, meet me at the lab at the base of Mt. Fuji."

  Ezra raised a brow. "What for?"

  Mr. Key smirked. "Let’s just say… it’s time you see things for yourself."

  With that, he walked away, leaving Ezra alone in his new domain—his mind racing with possibilities, dangers, and the feeling that whatever came next… It was going to change everything.

  Ezra had seen a lot of ridiculous things in his life.

  He had survived White-Coat University, where logic had been optional and exams had been a fever dream of nonsense and hidden truths. He had flown in a private jet like it was just another Tuesday, watching the world shrink below him as reality continued to warp in ways he never expected. He had stood in his own personal laboratory, fully stocked, fully equipped, realizing that he had power and resources beyond anything he’d ever dreamed of.

  And yet—Nothing—nothing—had prepared him for the moment Mr. Key led him into the research division’s main engineering wing and introduced him to his competition.

  A kid.

  An actual fucking child.

  Ezra stared. Then stared harder, waiting for the punchline.

  The boy standing across from him was small, barely up to his chest, with sharp eyes, a cocky grin, and a head full of neatly combed dark hair. His White-Coat uniform was custom-fitted, sleeves rolled up just slightly, like he had tailors that actually cared about fashion even in a lab setting.

  He had no business being here. Ezra’s brow furrowed, his gaze flicking to Mr. Key. "Uhh… hey, uh. Someone lost their kid in here?"

  Mr. Key smirked. "No, Ezra. That’s Haruto Kim."

  Ezra’s stomach dropped. "Come again?"

  The boy’s grin widened. He stepped forward, extending a small hand. "Haruto Kim. Haru, for short. I’ve heard about you, Mr. Key."

  Ezra didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Didn’t blink. Because what the actual fuck was happening? He hesitated—slowly, cautiously—before shaking the kid’s hand. It was firm, confident, not at all like a kid shaking hands with an adult. It was the handshake of someone who knew exactly who they were and had nothing to prove. Ezra pulled his hand back, looking to Mr. Key again. "So you’re telling me," he said slowly, voice dangerously calm, "that this is my competition?"

  Mr. Key nodded, completely unfazed. "That’s correct."

  Ezra exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. "How in the fuck?"

  Haru, still grinning, rocked on his heels. "You’re not the first person to ask that."

  Ezra glanced at him, scowling. "You’re supposed to be in elementary school."

  Haru shrugged. "I passed with flying colors at another WCU branch. The Asian division."

  Ezra clenched his jaw. "Of course you did."

  He knew White-Coat University was insane, but he hadn’t considered the possibility that other branches existed. Of course they did. Haru wasn’t just some prodigy randomly inserted into the ranks. He had been groomed for this from the start. Ezra inhaled deeply, trying to process this absurd reality. "So what, you built your first circuit board when you were five?"

  "Nine," Haru corrected. "And it wasn’t just a circuit board."

  Ezra squinted. "What then?"

  "A graviton battery-handling robot."

  Ezra almost choked. "You built a robot for graviton handling when YOU WERE NINE!?!?"

  Haru nodded. "Yeah, well. Someone had to. The original designs were inefficient. You wouldn’t believe how much output was lost due to minor vibration distortions in early handling systems."

  Ezra was going to throw up. He turned to Mr. Key, ready to protest, ready to rage about the absolute unfairness of the universe—but Mr. Key was already smirking, as if he had been waiting for this moment. Ezra gritted his teeth.

  "You’re telling me," he said through clenched jaw, "that this child is the one I’m supposed to be competing against for succession?"

  Mr. Key simply nodded. Ezra was going to lose his goddamn mind. Ezra wanted to scream when he heard the next part. Not only was Haru his rival for succession, but they would be sharing the same lab. Ezra pinched the bridge of his nose, inhaling deeply, trying to control the absolute frustration bubbling inside him.

  "I hate working with kids," he muttered under his breath.

  Haru, who absolutely heard that, just grinned wider. "I’m not a kid. I’m a scientist."

  Ezra glared at him. "You are literally a child."

  "Yeah," Haru admitted with a shrug. "But I could probably build something to make you say otherwise."

  Ezra let out a dry laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. "Oh, fantastic. I’m living a cruel joke. Worse than White-Coat University."

  Haru tilted his head. "You’re taking this awfully personally. What, you scared of being shown up by an eleven-year-old?"

  Ezra’s eye twitched. He had worked with kids before. Stupid kids. The kind that got in the way on construction sites, the kind that didn’t listen and caused messes for everyone else to clean up. This was a different breed of hell entirely. But before Ezra could actually say something he’d regret, Mr. Key raised a hand. "Enough."

  The command in his voice was firm but calm, carrying absolute authority, and both Ezra and Haru immediately went quiet.Mr. Key turned to Ezra, his expression neutral but pointed. "I understand your frustration. But I need you to understand something clearly, Ezra." He gestured toward Haru. "You may not like working with kids. But Haruto Kim is not to be taken lightly."

  Ezra exhaled sharply, looking between them. Then, reluctantly, he swallowed his pride. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like any of it. But there was no fighting this. For now, he was stuck with Haru.

  And whether he liked it or not—He was going to have to figure out how to work with him.

  Ezra had been mentally preparing himself to work with Haru, telling himself that if he could survive White-Coat University, he could survive anything.

  He was wrong.

  Haru was an absolute menace.

  Not in a destructive, reckless way—no, that would have been easier to deal with. The problem was that Haru was just too damn good at everything. Ezra walked into their shared lab, ready to make his first mark on Key Industries. He had a solid project in mind, something useful, something that could revolutionize industrial and emergency applications.

  A tractor beam.

  He wasted no time sketching out early designs, drawing up blueprints in the air using the interactive holographic displays. A device capable of generating a controlled graviton field, one that could pull in objects remotely, suspend them in place, maybe even tow massive structures in space.

  "This," Ezra muttered to himself, energized by the idea, "this is what I need to start with. Something big. Something useful."

  Then a voice piped up behind him. "Oh, you wanna build a tractor beam?"

  Ezra froze, blinking at the sound of Haru’s cheerful voice. Haru was lounging upside-down in a rolling chair, rocking back and forth with his hands behind his head, looking unbothered, amused. Ezra frowned. "Yeah? You got a problem with that?"

  Haru shrugged. "Not really. Just curious why you wanna build something I already made two years ago."

  Ezra’s eye twitched. Of course he did.

  Haru hopped up from the chair—flipping effortlessly as he landed on his feet—and gestured toward one of the lab’s storage compartments. "Check drawer 3B," he said casually.

  Ezra, skeptical but too annoyed to argue, opened the drawer—And there it was.

  A fully functioning tractor beam unit, compact, sleek, and already designed to perfection. Haru beamed at him, looking proud. "Neat, huh?"

  Ezra slammed the drawer shut.

  "Fine," he muttered. "Plan B." Ezra wasn’t going to let some overachieving child stop him.

  He pivoted, moving to his next brilliant idea. Repulsor boots. A set of gravity-defying footwear that could reverse polarity at will, allowing someone to walk on walls, ceilings, or any surface imaginable. Perfect for construction, repairs in low gravity, military applications, and extreme sports.

  It would be a game-changer. He barely had time to get the blueprints open before something caught his eye. A shadow moved along the ceiling. Ezra looked up—And there was Haru, casually walking upside-down, hands in his coat pockets, completely unbothered.

  "Sup?" Haru grinned.

  Ezra’s entire soul left his body. "You have GOT to be kidding me."

  Haru hopped off the ceiling, flipping midair before landing on the ground like it was nothing.

  "Yeah, anti-grav boots," Haru said, pointing at his shoes. "Made ‘em when I was eight. Not my best work, honestly, but they get the job done."

  Ezra, for a long moment, just stood there. Then he dragged a hand down his face, groaning. "Okay, Plan C, then."

  Haru tilted his head. "Ooo, we’re doing plans now? I like this."

  Ezra gritted his teeth. "Shut up." Fine. Fine.

  Tractor beam? Already done.

  Anti-gravity boots? Already done.

  But there was one more idea Ezra had in mind. Something unique, something that hadn’t been made before—A gravity radiator.

  A device that could manipulate gravitational forces to condense heat energy, then release it in controlled bursts for propulsion, environmental control, or even potential terraforming applications.

  This was it. Ezra turned, ready to throw himself into the calculations—And then he shivered. The temperature in the lab had dropped significantly. Ezra frowned. "Why is it so cold all of a sudden?" Then he heard a faint whoosh above him. He slowly looked up.

  And there was Haru again—floating midair, casually zipping around the lab using a gravity radiator strapped to his back like a jetpack.

  "Yo, what’s up?" Haru called out as he glided past, leaving a thin trail of cold air in his wake.

  Ezra’s jaw clenched so hard he thought his teeth might shatter. "You built a gravity radiator," he said, voice flat, dead inside.

  Haru grinned. "Yeah! It’s fun! Want one?"

  Ezra closed his eyes. Took a deep breath. And seriously contemplated launching this child into the sun. Haru landed gracefully, tapping a few controls on his wristband to power down his gravity jetpack before stretching his arms. Ezra, meanwhile, was having an existential crisis.

  This lab was supposed to be his dream come true.

  A place where he could finally build and innovate freely, where he could create things no one had ever seen before. And instead—He was stuck sharing a workspace with an eleven-year-old prodigy who had already built every single thing he had ever wanted to invent.

  Haru, sensing the frustration, nudged him playfully. "You look stressed," he said. "You wanna go lie down? Maybe have a juice box?"

  Ezra turned slowly. "Haru," he said, voice dangerously calm, "I am going to strangle you."

  Haru giggled, completely unfazed. "You’ll have to catch me first!"

  And with that, he flipped back onto the ceiling, hanging upside-down again like an annoying little goblin. Ezra groaned, slumping into his chair. This was going to be the longest year of his life.

  This dynamic had gone on for far too long.

  Ezra had lost count of the number of crumpled blueprints in his trash bin, each one representing another failure, another brilliant idea he had painstakingly drafted, only to realize—too late—that Haru had already built it.

  It had started as a minor annoyance. Now? Now it was soul-crushing. He had tried to fight against it, tried to outthink the kid, tried to one-up him just once, but every attempt ended the same way. Eventually, Ezra just sat back in his chair, rubbing his temples, muttering to himself.

  "Fuck it."

  White-Coat University may not have taught him much—practically nothing useful, really—but if there was one lesson he had learned there, it was this:

  Sometimes, it’s just better to go along with the flow rather than fight it.

  With a deep, defeated sigh, Ezra did something he had never done before. He turned to Haru—the child prodigy, the pint-sized overachiever, the one person in this lab who actually knew what he was doing—and asked: "Alright, genius. What do you think we should invent?"

  Haru’s face lit up instantly. "Oh!" He spun around in his chair, kicking his feet excitedly. "We should make toys!"

  Ezra blinked. "Toys?"

  "Yeah! It’s gonna be awfully boring working in a lab all day. We should make something fun!"

  Ezra opened his mouth to protest, but then—against all odds—an actual idea sparked in his brain. He thought back to his old construction job, to the silly pranks that the blue-collar workers used to play. A game they had played on-site.

  A prank that had scared the absolute shit out of new hires. Slowly, a grin crept onto Ezra’s face. "You know what?" he said. "I think I have just the thing."

  Ezra grabbed a blank sheet of blueprint paper, grabbed a pen, and started sketching.

  "The idea is simple," he explained. "You sit on a pressure pad, like a seat cushion. It starts a countdown. And at random, when the timer hits zero—" He tapped the paper. "Gravity fluctuates so violently that you jitter like you’re sitting on a jackhammer."

  Haru’s eyes went wide with excitement. "That sounds AMAZING!" He was already grabbing tools, already pulling up holo-blueprints, already completely invested.

  "It was a stupid prank at my old job," Ezra admitted. "New guys would sit down for lunch, and suddenly their bones turned to jelly. It scared the hell out of ‘em every time."

  Haru was giggling uncontrollably, already tweaking Ezra’s original design with his own ideas. "What if—what if instead of just one pad," Haru suggested, "we had a game mode where it’s multiplayer? Like, last person sitting wins?"

  Ezra grinned. "Kid, that’s the best idea you’ve had all day." For the first time since meeting Haru, Ezra actually enjoyed working with him. The kid was smart, sure. Too smart. But when he wasn’t one-upping Ezra at every turn, he was actually fun to work with. They bounced ideas off each other, tested mechanics, and got dangerously close to accidentally launching a wrench across the lab when one of the early prototypes misfired.

  It was going well—Until Haru started talking.

  Too much.

  "So, Ezra," Haru said casually, adjusting some of the gravity modulator settings, "what was White-Coat University like for you?"

  Ezra kept screwing in a support bracket, barely paying attention. "You know. A nightmare. A fever dream. Take your pick."

  Haru nodded, completely unbothered by the description. "Did you have a wife while you were there?"

  Ezra froze mid-turn. "What?"

  "A wife," Haru repeated, still innocent, still carefree, still completely unaware that Ezra was now resisting the urge to bonk him on the head with a wrench. "You know. Married. Tied down. Chained to the illusion of love."

  Ezra stared at him. "Haru, you’re eleven. Why the hell do you talk like a divorced man?"

  Haru shrugged. "I read a lot of philosophy."

  Ezra let out a slow breath, counting to ten. "Yes," he finally answered. "I have a wife."

  Haru perked up. "Oh! Do you love her?"

  Ezra dropped his wrench. "What kind of question is that??"

  Haru giggled, as if Ezra’s suffering was entertainment. "Does she love you back?"

  Ezra shot him a look. "No, Haru. She despises me. She married me purely for tax benefits."

  Haru gasped. "Really??"

  Ezra rolled his eyes, picking up his wrench. "No, you little gremlin. Of course she loves me."

  Haru pouted. "You don’t have to be so dramatic about it."

  Ezra turned back to work, trying to focus. Silence. For two whole minutes.

  Then—"Ezra, do you know about graviton matrix hyperloops?"

  Ezra paused. Looked up. Deadpanned. "Haru."

  "Yeah?"

  "I can work. And I can think. But I can’t do both at the same time."

  Haru tilted his head, blinking. Ezra exhaled. "Can you, for like, five whole minutes, let me just build this thing without asking random-ass questions?"

  Haru thought about it. Then smirked. "Five whole minutes?"

  "Yes."

  "No questions?"

  "None."

  Haru held up his wristband, pressed a button— And set a five-minute countdown timer. Ezra watched in disbelief as the countdown started ticking. Haru sat there, completely quiet, eyes wide, just watching him. Like a little gremlin waiting to explode. Ezra groaned.

  This was going to be a nightmare.

  Ezra was faced with a challenge far greater than anything White-Coat University had ever thrown at him.

  It wasn’t complex graviton calculations.

  It wasn’t rewriting the very laws of physics.

  It wasn’t even surviving the sheer lunacy of academia.

  No. It was the ticking time bomb of a child sitting silently in his lab, waiting for the moment he could speak again. Ezra worked furiously, trying to focus, trying to ignore the creeping dread that Haru would explode with questions the moment the timer hit zero.

  But everything was going wrong. A part wouldn’t fit properly, and when he tried to improvise, something else jammed up. The countdown kept ticking down. Five minutes had never felt so short. His frustration mounted, his teeth clenched, and he tried to remind himself—this was a child, he had to watch his temper, he had to watch his language—

  And then—Tick. Zero. Silence.

  Haru remained quiet. Ezra let out a small breath of relief. Maybe, just maybe, the kid—

  "Hey Ezra, do you think—"

  SNAP. A spring ricocheted off the casing and snapped him directly in the face. Ezra yelped, recoiling, gripping his cheek as the pain set in. Haru gasped. "Oh shoot, are you okay?"

  Ezra’s patience shattered into a million pieces. His free hand grabbed a screwdriver, and in one swift motion, he chucked it at the wall with enough force to shake the shelving units.

  "SON OF A MUDSUCKING, CATTLE-KICKING, WIRE-SNARLING, BANANA-FUMBLING, GOAT-KISSING PIECE OF—!"

  He stopped mid-rant, his breathing heavy, the tool still vibrating in the drywall. Haru was giggling uncontrollably. Behind him, Mr. Key stood with an amused expression, arms crossed, watching the entire scene unfold. Mr. Key cleared his throat. "Language, young man."

  Ezra just stood there, his head hanging in sheer, unfiltered defeat.

  Ezra stepped away, rubbing his temples, muttering various threats to the universe under his breath as Haru—completely unbothered—cheerfully picked up where Ezra left off, making small adjustments to the toy.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  Mr. Key handed Ezra something small—a lanyard. It held his White Card, now housed in a sleek, reinforced casing, like something issued to high-clearance personnel. Haru got one too, slipping it over his head, grinning.

  "You’re going to need these," Mr. Key explained.

  Ezra frowned, glancing up. "For what?"

  Mr. Key’s gaze was unreadable. "For your duty."

  Ezra’s gut twisted. "What duty?"

  Mr. Key let out a slow breath. "Key and Kim family members have a responsibility, Ezra. Once a year, we venture into the core of Mt. Fuji to ensure the ‘reactor’ is functioning properly." Ezra’s heart sank.

  A tour.

  Of the reactor.

  With the Silent Legion.

  He was going to die down there, wasn’t he? Ezra’s throat went dry, but before he could process his impending doom, an unholy BZZZZZZZZZT filled the air.

  He turned. And there was Haru. Bouncing uncontrollably on the jackhammer seat, laughing hysterically as the gravity engine vibrated him like a human maraca. Mr. Key chuckled, watching with mild amusement.

  Haru wobbled off the device, grinning ear to ear. "That was AWESOME!"

  Ezra blinked. Then exhaled slowly. "It was your idea," Haru said, still shaking slightly.

  Mr. Key raised an eyebrow. "Your idea, Ezra?"

  Ezra hesitated. "I mean—kinda?"

  Mr. Key smirked. "Impressive. You and Haru are getting along quite well."

  Ezra paled. Dear God, no.

  Don’t encourage him.

  Ezra had always imagined Japan as a place of history, culture, and cutting-edge technology. He had seen so little of it since arriving, too busy immersing himself in his new reality at Key Industries.

  So today, he had taken the day off—no lab, no Haru, no Mr. Key, no staring at horrific existential documents about graviton radiation and hidden history. Just him and the city, wandering the streets, soaking in the everyday normalcy.

  For a moment, it worked. Then, in the distance, Mt. Fuji loomed on the horizon. Ezra stopped. His breath fogged slightly in the cool air as he stared at it. The core was down there. The Silent Legion. The so-called "reactor."

  It felt like looking at an execution platform. Was he really cut out for this kind of work? Then, a flicker of color caught his eye. A massive screen in the city square. An advertisement was playing, the speakers buzzing with upbeat Japanese narration.

  Ezra glanced at it—And immediately froze.

  It was a commercial for GraviJack, the very game he and Haru had cooked up in the lab just a few months ago.

  Apparently, Haru had gone the extra mile and actually made it multiplayer. On the screen, kids were laughing, bouncing, competing to be the last one sitting, the gravity pads buzzing under them as they dodged, fidgeted, and struggled to hold their positions.

  Ezra felt a smile creep onto his face despite himself. He had been so skeptical about this project at first, dismissing it as just some dumb idea to entertain Haru.

  But now? Now, watching kids playing something he helped create, it… felt different. Then he thought about Adam.

  He thought about his son, playing with a toy his dad made, laughing, smiling, enjoying something born from Ezra’s own hands. For the first time in a long time, Ezra felt something warm bloom in his chest.

  Maybe, just maybe—He was doing something worthwhile after all.

  Then, the commercial took a turn for the worse. The hype-building segment began. Bold Japanese text flashed across the screen, introducing the great minds behind the invention. First, they showed Haru—the brilliant, charming young genius, the boy wonder of Key Industries, smiling, waving at the camera like a goddamn superstar.

  Ezra sighed. Of course. But then—The screen changed again.

  His stomach dropped. There he was. Ezra Key. The foreign mastermind. And then—Oh god no.

  They showed the lab footage.

  The very same footage of the day he lost his patience with Haru, the moment a spring snapped into his face, the exact second he launched a screwdriver at the wall and screamed absolute nonsense at the top of his lungs.

  The crowd in the square burst into laughter. Giggles. Chuckles. A few outright roars of amusement. Ezra’s soul left his body.

  At first, he thought he was safe. Just one foreign guy watching an ad, nothing to see here.

  Then—Someone in the crowd recognized him. A girl pointed, whispering excitedly to her friend. Heads turned. Murmurs spread. Ezra felt his stomach sink as more and more people looked his way, their eyes widening in realization.

  Then someone shouted—"It’s him! The White-Coat foreigner!"

  Ezra had exactly two seconds to react. And then—The crowd descended.

  Cameras were out. People were laughing, asking for selfies, speaking in rapid Japanese he could barely keep up with. Ezra could only facepalm internally.

  Oh god. Oh no.

  His dignity was dying in real-time.

  Fall had started with high hopes.

  Ezra had finally started to settle into his lab, learned to tolerate Haru’s antics, and had even gotten used to his new life of luxury. But today? Today was going to be an absolute nightmare. And it all started with a single mistake. Ezra left his phone on the workbench.

  Ezra was deep in work, focusing intently on another one of Haru’s insane blueprints, when he heard the question that made his blood turn to ice.

  "Ezra," Haru piped up from across the lab.

  Ezra didn’t even glance up, still carefully adjusting a calibration sensor. "What?"

  "Do you have games on your phone?"

  Ezra’s hands froze mid-adjustment. Slowly, so very slowly, he turned his head. Haru was holding his phone. Ezra's one and only outdated, scratched-up, barely-functioning device. Ezra inhaled sharply, already feeling the beginning of a stress headache forming behind his eyes. "Kid," he started, his voice dangerously calm, "put that down before I—"

  And then—An idea struck him.

  A terrible, wonderful, beautifully reckless idea. He straightened. Cleared his throat. Put on his most serious expression. "Yeah," he said casually. "I got loads of games on it." Haru’s eyes widened with excitement. Ezra leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice as if offering forbidden knowledge. "Wanna shut the fuck up for a couple hours and play them?"

  Haru beamed. "YES!"

  Ezra grinned. He had won. For once in his life, he had outsmarted the gremlin.

  It worked—for a while.

  Haru sat quietly in a chair, hunched over the ancient relic of a phone, thumbs tapping furiously. Ezra worked in peace, adjusting components, soldering circuits, basking in the unbelievable silence of a Haruto Kim-free workspace. It was bliss.And then—

  Thirty minutes later—"Ezra."

  Ezra sighed, rubbing his temples. "What, Haru?"

  "Your phone is boring."

  Ezra felt his soul leave his body.

  Before he could react, Haru was scrolling through YouTube. A video started playing—Japanese narration, dramatic music, the unmistakable sound of a sword being drawn. Ezra peeked over. On the screen, a fantasy samurai warrior in traditional armor crept through a dense, misty forest, stalking his prey in silence. The title flashed across the screen—Tenzai Raikou: Blade of the Celestial Dragon. Ezra sighed. "Don’t get any ideas."

  Haru said nothing. Which was worse than a response.

  Fifteen minutes passed. Ezra was deep in his work, lost in a delicate circuit assembly when—He noticed something strange.

  The lab was quiet. Too quiet.

  Suspiciously quiet.

  Ezra’s entire body tensed. Slowly, very slowly, he lifted his head. The chair where Haru had been sitting was empty. Ezra's phone was gone. The air in the lab suddenly felt colder. Oh no.

  His eyes darted around, scanning the entire workspace. No Haru. He checked under the workbench. Nothing. He checked the storage closets. Nothing. He even checked inside one of the empty supply containers, just in case Haru had decided to become Schr?dinger’s Cat for fun.

  Still nothing. Then—"Ezraaaaaa…"

  Ezra jerked violently, his heart nearly leaping out of his throat. The voice came from above him. His head snapped upward. And there, peering down from a ceiling grid tile, was Haru. Eyes gleaming. Grinning. Like a small, mischievous goblin lurking in the shadows.

  Ezra didn’t even have time to yell. Haru launched himself down from the ceiling, landing with a roll like he was an actual goddamn ninja. Ezra staggered backward, clutching his chest. "What the fuck?!"

  Haru beamed. "Pretty good, huh? I synchronized my breathing with the ventilation system! Just like Tenzai Raikou!"

  Ezra wanted to scream. This wasn’t real. This had to be a hallucination.

  Before Ezra could reprimand him, a voice interrupted them both. "You two." Ezra turned. Mr. Key stood in the doorway, watching with mild amusement, arms crossed. "Be ready in half an hour," he said simply.

  Ezra blinked. "For what?"

  Mr. Key smiled. It wasn’t a comforting smile. "We’re taking a tour of the core."

  The words hit Ezra like a gut punch. His stomach flipped, twisted, sank into the abyss. He forgot how to breathe for a moment. The Silent Legion. The reactor beneath Mt. Fuji. The place where people had mutated from exposure. The thing that was supposedly keeping the planet stable. His face paled.

  Meanwhile—Haru gasped with excitement, practically vibrating with enthusiasm. "Really?!" he cheered. "We're finally going?!"

  Ezra swallowed the bile rising in his throat. This was it. His worst nightmare was becoming real. He was going to die in that mountain. And Haru was going to have the time of his life doing it.

  The cart rumbled down the long tunnel, the dim lights casting ghostly shadows against the cold, reinforced walls. Ezra sat stiffly, gripping the rail beside him, staring ahead as the path stretched into a seemingly endless void.

  The deeper they went, the thicker the air became, pressing against his chest like a slow-growing weight. It felt like he was descending into hell itself, a suffocating sense of finality clawing at the back of his mind.

  Haru, on the other hand, was having the time of his life.

  The kid’s eyes gleamed with excitement as he peered out into the tunnel, his head swiveling back and forth like he was the main character in some fantasy epic, sneaking into the lair of a legendary dragon.

  "Ezra," Haru whispered, leaning in, his voice brimming with excitement. "Doesn’t this feel like a legendary moment? Like we’re about to face the final boss?"

  Ezra barely turned his head. "Kid, if this is the final boss, I’d rather just skip the cutscene and go straight to the game over screen."

  Haru grinned. "That’s quitter talk!"

  Ezra groaned, leaning back, eyes narrowing as he focused ahead. At the end of the tunnel, a deep elevator shaft awaited them.

  The cart slowed to a halt. Mr. Key stepped off first, motioning for them to follow. Ezra hesitated, looking down into the seemingly bottomless abyss of the elevator shaft. The massive chamber was carved from pure rock, reinforced with layers of steel and high-tech security systems. The walls were lined with heavy-duty lifts, each one capable of carrying hundreds of tons of cargo, and at the center, their own private elevator waited.

  The moment Ezra stepped onto the platform, the temperature shifted. It wasn’t hot. It wasn’t cold.It was dense. The air felt charged, like static before a storm, pressing down on them as if the very weight of the mountain above was reminding them where they were going.

  Ezra’s stomach twisted as the elevator lurched downward. The descent began. Haru, of course, was unbothered, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "How deep does this go?" he asked.

  Mr. Key was silent for a moment before responding. "Deep enough that if the reactor ever failed," he said, "the crater it would leave behind would be visible from space."

  Haru grinned wider. Ezra felt his soul leave his body.

  When the elevator doors slid open, Mr. Key led them down the final stretch of the path, stopping in front of a massive bunker door. The sheer size of it was almost incomprehensible—reinforced steel so thick it could withstand nuclear blasts, sealed with mechanical locks that hissed with pressure.

  Only a White-Card holder could open it. Even then, special clearance was required. "This is as far as I go," Mr. Key said, turning to them both. "Beyond this door, the facility is run by the Silent Legion."

  Ezra didn’t like the way he said that. Not like it was some cooperative business venture. No. It sounded like a separate entity entirely. Something that Key Industries simply had to respect. Ezra swallowed, suddenly aware of just how small he was in the grand scheme of things.

  Mr. Key motioned toward the nearby checkpoint—a processing station guarded by a single figure dressed entirely in black. The man barely spoke, processing their White Cards efficiently, methodically, before handing them back.

  Ezra had no idea what information was being loaded onto them, but the moment the system beeped, a small red light above the door flickered green. The bunker doors began to unlock. The security guard stepped aside.

  "Proceed."

  Ezra had never felt so intimidated by a single word before. And yet, the worst was still to come.

  The moment they stepped inside, their tour guide was already waiting for them. She stood at attention, her arms clasped behind her back, her jet-black armor fitted with precision, as if she had never once stood anywhere without absolute purpose. Her voice was crisp, authoritative, cutting through the room like a blade.

  "I am Clover," she said. "Your tour begins now."

  Ezra’s stomach twisted. It wasn’t her no-nonsense attitude that set him on edge. It was her. Her feet weren’t human. They were hooves. Encased in custom-made boots, perfectly tailored to fit her non-human legs. Her ears were tall and pointed, covered in soft fur, twitching at even the smallest sounds. A small set of horns curved just above her forehead, subtle but unmistakable. And her tail—long, swishing behind her, as natural as if she had been born with it. Ezra tried not to stare too hard, but his mind was racing.

  Just how long have they been down here for someone to mutate this drastically?

  Haru, of course, had zero hesitation. He grinned up at her, absolutely fascinated. "You look cool!" Haru blurted out. Ezra almost slapped his forehead.

  Clover’s expression remained neutral, but something in her stance softened slightly. "Haru Kim," she said, looking down at him. "I read your file. You are young."

  "I know!" Haru beamed. "That’s what makes me so great!"

  Ezra closed his eyes. "Haru, please shut up."

  Clover’s neutral expression remained, but Ezra swore he saw the tiniest flicker of amusement in her eyes. That amusement, however, vanished when her gaze settled on him. "And you," she said flatly, "Ezra Key."

  Ezra straightened. "Uh. Yeah."

  Her eyes narrowed slightly. "You are responsible for this child. Ensure he does not deviate from the path."

  Ezra’s soul shattered into a million pieces. "Babysitting," he muttered under his breath. "Great. Fantastic. Love that."

  Haru, meanwhile, was positively glowing. "Does that mean I get to do whatever I want as long as Ezra keeps track of me?"

  Clover ignored him. "You will not deviate from the tour path," she said. "There are restricted zones beyond these tunnels that you are not permitted to enter. Do not test this rule."

  Ezra didn’t need to be told twice. Haru, however—"Ooooh, what’s in the restricted zones?"

  Ezra grabbed his shoulder before he could ask anything else. "We’re not gonna find out, because we’re gonna behave. Right, Haru?"

  Haru pouted. "Boo. Fine."

  Clover turned, motioning for them to follow. "Then we begin."

  Ezra exhaled deeply, trying to suppress the overwhelming sense of impending doom crawling up his spine. Mr. Key was right. White-Coat University had been education. But the real work? The real danger? It was only just starting.

  The tour was short, efficient, and left no room for questions. Clover led them through reinforced corridors, past thick containment doors, until they reached a single, sterile control room. Ezra had expected to see the core itself, to witness firsthand the energy source that supposedly powered human civilization—but that wasn’t their job.

  Instead, they were shown the last line of defense. A safety mechanism. The terminal in front of them was minimalistic, yet unmistakably final in its function. Clover turned to face them. "If the core ever reaches critical levels, you are required to authorize a complete wipe."

  Ezra’s mouth felt dry. "What does ‘complete wipe’ mean?"

  "There are enough explosives beneath the facility to launch the core into space," she stated. "Far enough that its detonation will be harmless."

  Haru’s eyes sparkled. "Like a superweapon cannon?"

  Ezra stared at the console, gripping his White Card a little tighter. This wasn’t some theoretical disaster protocol. This was real. And one day, he might have to make that call.

  Clover’s expression remained cold, unwavering, as she delivered the final piece of information. "In the event of a complete wipe," she continued, "the authorization process requires on-site personnel to remain within the facility."

  Ezra’s stomach dropped. "What do you mean—‘remain’?"

  Clover’s eyes met his, unflinching. "If the wipe is initiated, those who authorize it must stay behind to ensure the sequence is carried out."

  Ezra felt his pulse in his ears.

  "You’re saying that if this thing goes critical, whoever pushes the button—"

  "—dies with it."

  Silence hung thick in the air. Haru blinked, the weight of those words finally settling in even for him. Ezra exhaled sharply, gripping his White Card, feeling the weight of responsibility pressing into his chest.

  This wasn’t just a tour. This was a warning. One day, if it came to it, he would have to make the call. And if he did—There would be no coming back.

  Winter came as a small mercy, a brief moment where Ezra could pretend his newfound reality wasn’t weighing down on him like an iron shackle.

  The tour had been short, but his role was permanent.

  Fifteen generations had stood where he stood now, holding the same responsibility, carrying the same burden. The core had remained stable for centuries, so what were the real chances that he’d ever have to make the call?

  That was the thought running through his head as he sat alone in his private strato-jet, watching the Earth curve beneath him, the stars above stretching endlessly into the void. For the first time in a long time, he wanted nothing more than to be home.

  Nonna’s house was warm, filled with the scent of fresh food, twinkling lights, and the quiet comfort of family.

  And Ezra had arrived just in time. Julie was holding up her phone, camera recording, her voice filled with pure joy as she gasped—"Ezra! Look!"

  Ezra barely had time to register what she meant before his eyes landed on Adam. His son. Standing on unsteady legs, wobbling but determined, taking small, shaky steps. And then—"Da-da!"

  Adam stumbled forward, arms outstretched, walking straight into Ezra’s waiting arms. A shockwave of emotion hit him all at once. Julie’s laughter filled the room, Nonna clapped excitedly, and Ezra—Ezra just held his son, eyes burning, heart full.

  For all the madness of the past year—the White-Coats, the Silent Legion, the reactor, the knowledge that his future was no longer his own—For this one moment, it was worth it.

  Later that evening, the house was at peace. Seth had put on a Quarantinemas movie, and the whole family settled onto the couch, warm and content. Ezra sat between Julie and Ciarra, cradling Adam, while Nonna rested in her favorite armchair, bundled in a blanket. Ciarra was curled up on Seth’s lap, half-listening to the movie, half-lost in the quiet happiness of the room.

  For the first time in months, Ezra felt the tension drain from his body.

  The movie played softly, the room was dimly lit, and warmth settled over him like a thick, comforting haze. Ezra’s eyelids grew heavy, his head leaning slightly against Julie’s shoulder.Then—

  prrr-rrr-rrr…

  Ezra’s brow twitched. His ears perked. He blinked drowsily, scanning the room. …Did they get a cat?

  He was certain his family didn’t own any pets. But there it was again—prrr-rrr-rrr—a deep, rhythmic purring sound, gentle but undeniable. Ezra frowned. Slowly, he turned his head. And his soul left his body. The sound was coming from Ciarra.

  Seth was soothingly rubbing her back, his other arm wrapped around her as she nuzzled against his chest, practically cradled in his arms.

  And she was purring. Like an actual goddamn cat.

  Ezra sat there, frozen, his brain short-circuiting, his grip tightening on Adam as if his son could somehow protect him from the sheer absurdity unfolding before him. The purring continued, soft but undeniable, vibrating deep from within Ciarra’s chest. Julie, completely at peace, rested her head against Ezra’s. Ezra, on the other hand, felt his entire reality unraveling.

  The movie no longer mattered. The warmth of the room no longer mattered. All he could think about was the goddamn purring. He sat rigid, eyes darting to the others. No one reacted.

  Nonna was dozing off in her chair.

  Seth was calmly holding Ciarra.

  Julie was perfectly relaxed.

  Was he the only one disturbed by this?! The purring finally faded as Ciarra drifted off to sleep. And yet—Ezra knew. He would never un-hear it. He would never un-know it.

  Sleep? Oh, hell no. He wasn’t going to get a good night’s sleep for a long, long time.

  Ezra had been mentally preparing himself for this conversation, but now that he was here, sitting across from his father in the soft glow of Quarantinemas lights, he realized—There was no way to prepare for this.

  He exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face. "Alright, Dad. I gotta ask."

  Seth raised a brow, sipping his coffee. "Yeah?"

  Ezra leaned in, lowering his voice like he was about to ask some deep, life-changing question. "What’s with the purring?"

  Seth smirked. Ezra’s stomach sank immediately. "Heh," Seth chuckled, eyes glinting with mischief. "Jealous?"

  Ezra choked on his own breath. "What?! No! What the— No!"

  Before he could recover from that emotional damage, Ciarra wandered into the room, stretching lazily, her snow-white hair tumbling over her shoulders.

  Seth turned to her with casual amusement. "Hey, honey. Show him that thing. You know the one."

  Ciarra immediately turned beet red, waving a hand in protest. "Nuuuu! You know how shy I am about it!"

  Ezra sat rigid, his eyes darting between them. They were both smirking. Like he was the butt of an inside joke he didn’t understand. And that was when Ezra realized the truth. He was not going to like what happened next.

  Seth, with that same damn smirk, leaned back in his chair. "C’mon, show him."

  Ciarra hesitated. Then, after a moment’s internal debate, she carefully reached up, grabbing a tuft of her own hair. And peeled it away. Ezra’s heart stopped. Underneath the wig, twitching ever so slightly, were—Cat ears.

  Real, actual, fur-covered, snow-white, moving cat ears!

  Ezra’s soul left his body. He shot out of his chair, hands planted on the table, his entire worldview shattering in real time. "For fuck’s sake, Dad, did you marry a FURRY?!?"

  Ciarra gasped.

  Seth let out a long, deep sigh of disappointment, shaking his head.

  Ezra barely registered it, his mind spiraling into chaos. His dad married a furry. His dad married a furry. His dad married a—Then the ears twitched.

  Not mechanically. Not like a cosplay attachment or some high-tech modification. But naturally.

  Ezra’s breath caught. His entire body locked up. No.

  No, no, no, no, no, no, no.

  That wasn’t supposed to happen. "You know," Seth said casually, stirring his coffee, "that’s kind of an outdated slur."

  Ezra’s brain blue-screened. He turned, gaping at his father. Seth looked at him like he was a child who had just pointed at a disabled person in public and laughed. Ezra wanted to protest. He wanted to scream DO YOU KNOW WHAT I’VE SEEN?!?

  He wanted to tell them about the horrors beneath Mt. Fuji, about the Silent Legion, about how people mutated from exposure, about how he had stood in front of a walking security officer with hooves and horns and goddamn cow tits—But he couldn’t.

  His father just sipped his coffee, waiting.

  Ciarra, on the other hand, visibly shrank, tucking her ears under the wig again, her expression suddenly timid and self-conscious.

  And just like that—Ezra felt like absolute shit. His shoulders sagged, the fire of protest dying in his throat. "Ah, shit," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "I… I’m sorry."

  Ciarra peeked up at him, her expression hesitant, but hopeful.

  Ezra sighed. He couldn’t tell them the truth. So instead, he shrugged. "Japan’s done a number on me, that’s all."

  Seth smirked, clearly accepting the excuse. "It does that."

  Ciarra smiled softly. "It’s okay, Ezra. I know it’s… a lot."

  Ezra forced a smile, nodding. "Yeah. Yeah, it is."

  She stepped forward, wrapping her arms around him in a warm, genuine hug. Ezra returned it, feeling her squeeze him gently—and just when he was about to relax— Something brushed against his side. Something that hadn’t been there before. His entire body locked up.

  It was…

  No.

  No, no, NO.

  It was a tail.

  Ezra stared blankly over Ciarra’s shoulder, his soul in freefall, his sanity fraying at the edges.

  He had two choices in this moment. Face reality. Accept that his dad’s wife had cat ears, a tail, and possibly other horrors lurking beneath the surface. Or.. Lie to himself. Pretend that she was just a dedicated furry who had invested way too much into life-like cybernetic enhancements.

  Ezra chose Option 2.

  He swallowed down every negative thought, every creeping horror, every nightmare-inducing possibility and simply embraced denial. Ciarra pulled back, smiling warmly at him. Ezra forced his best attempt at looking normal and gave her a nod of approval.

  Seth clapped him on the back. "See? Was that so bad?"

  Ezra’s eyelid twitched.

  "Not at all," he said, voice mechanically even. Then, with all the strength he had left in him, he turned and walked away before his brain exploded.

  Ezra sat hunched on a stone bench outside Nonna’s house, brown paper bag clutched over his mouth, breathing in and out like a man on the verge of a full-blown crisis. He had seen too much. Felt too much.

  Learned one too many cursed truths about his father’s wife and her… extra features. The soft crunch of footsteps in the snow-covered garden made him glance up. Ciarra stood there, hands tucked behind her back, looking entirely too amused for someone who just shattered his fragile sense of reality. "You look like you need something to take the edge off," she mused.

  Ezra groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Unless you got a way to erase memories, I’m beyond saving."

  Ciarra just smiled, stepping forward. "Well, I don’t have that, but…" She pulled out a small wooden smoking pipe, holding it up like a peace offering.

  Ezra squinted. Then, as she pulled out a small pouch of green flower, realization dawned. His eye twitched. "For the love of God," he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose, "please tell me that’s not catnip."

  Ciarra burst out laughing. "No, no! Just regular old weed, Ezra."

  Ezra glanced between her, the pipe, and the snow-dusted yard around them. After everything he had been through, all the madness, the White-Coat nonsense, the Silent Legion, Haru, and now his stepmother literally purring in his father’s arms—How much worse could this really make things?

  With a sigh, he took the pipe from her hand. "Alright, fine," he muttered. "Hit me."

  Ciarra grinned, lighting it up and taking a long inhale before passing it over.

  Ezra took his first hit, exhaling into the crisp winter air. And just like that—The world got a little quieter.

  It didn’t take long before the devil’s lettuce loosened Ezra’s mind up completely. Which was probably why the next words out of his mouth were—"So what’s the deal, Ciarra? Did Dad fuck a cat or something?"

  Ciarra choked on her inhale, coughing as she laughed. "Kind of!" she wheezed.

  Ezra sat bolt upright, staring at her in horror. "Kinda?!?"

  Ciarra wiped tears from her eyes, still giggling. "Relax, Ezra. It’s not like that."

  "Then how about you actually explain, instead of dropping a goddamn bombshell on Quarantinemas and calling it a day?!"

  Ciarra leaned back against the bench, smirking as she took another slow drag. "My mother," she began, "had features like mine. Not quite as… developed, but the same traits. My dad?" She exhaled the smoke, watching it swirl in the air. "He worked with gravitons. Let’s leave it at that."

  Ezra slumped back, rubbing his temples. "Jesus Christ," he muttered.

  Ciarra turned, studying him curiously. Then she tilted her head, her eyes narrowing slightly. "You know," she said, "my hair wasn’t always white."

  Ezra glanced at her. For a second, the gears in his brain turned, but the weed was slowing his usual rapid-fire thoughts. Then—A bell rang in his mind.

  His hand drifted up to his mustache, fingers brushing against the single white sliver in the middle.

  Oh.

  Ohhhhhh.

  That’s why she was considered unlucky. The realization hit him like a freight train. He remembered being mocked as a kid. He remembered the nickname "cumstain" haunting him through his youth, all because of one stupid streak of white in his hair.

  And if he had gone through that? Ezra could only imagine what Ciarra had endured growing up. "Yeah," she said, reading his expression. "It was bad."

  Ezra nodded slowly. Ciarra leaned her head back, staring up at the sky. "The other kids wouldn’t let me play their games," she admitted. "They called me cursed. Bad luck. It was easier to just… keep to myself. So I did. My mother taught me everything she could before she passed. Medicine, mostly."

  Ezra blinked. "Wait—your mom taught you medicine?"

  Ciarra grinned. "Yeah. She was good, too. Taught me how to do surgery on myself."

  Ezra stared at her. "You’re messing with me."

  Ciarra smirked. "I once removed my own appendix, awake."

  Ezra inhaled too fast and started coughing. "Holy shit, lady."

  Ciarra just laughed. "What can I say? I had to learn the hard way."

  Ezra handed the pipe back, still processing that insanity. Then, finally, he asked the one question still gnawing at him. "So," he started, tilting his head, "the purring."

  The moment he said it, Ciarra’s cheeks turned pink, and she looked away. She was embarrassed.

  Ezra narrowed his eyes. "Oh, don’t you start getting shy now."

  Ciarra covered her ears, curling her shoulders slightly.

  Ezra sighed, watching her for a long moment. Then, with reluctant acceptance, he muttered, "…Alright. I’ll admit it."

  Ciarra peeked at him through her fingers. "Admit what?"

  Ezra exhaled, staring at the distant snow-covered trees. "It’s kinda cute," he grumbled. Ciarra blinked. Ezra sighed deeper. "And maybe," he continued, "juuuust maybe, I might be a little jealous." Ciarra beamed, wiggling slightly, tail thumping happily against the bench.

  Ezra groaned. "Oh god, stop doing that."

  She giggled. "What? You said it was cute."

  Ezra rubbed his tired face, slumping deeper into the bench.

  "I always wanted a pet growing up," he admitted. "But Dad said it was too much responsibility."

  Ciarra giggled harder. "And yet, here you are, stuck with Haru."

  Ezra sighed the sigh of a man who had aged five years overnight. "That kid is a nightmare responsibility." Ciarra, still giggling, scooted closer, wrapping her arms around him. Ezra hesitated for a second before letting himself relax into the hug. The tail kept thumping. But thanks to the weed, Ezra decided not to care.

  In fact, he realized, he wished he had weed back in White-Coat University. It might’ve actually made that hellhole bearable. They sat like that for a while, the winter air crisp but not cold, the house behind them glowing with warmth and quiet laughter.

  Then—click.

  Ezra’s eyes shot open. Slowly, he turned his head. Julie stood there, phone in hand, smirking.

  This time, though—This time, Ezra just exhaled, sinking back into the bench.

  The weed helped. For once—he allowed himself to enjoy the moment.