The rain had not stopped for three days.

Far away from the lights of Sydney, hidden behind dense eucalyptus forests, an abandoned psychiatric hospital stood in silence.

Officially, the building had been condemned years ago.

Officially, nobody had entered it since.

Officially...

It no longer existed.

The truth was very different.

Several underground levels still had electricity.

The operating rooms had been rebuilt.

Modern equipment lined spotless white laboratories beneath the crumbling concrete above.

No one knew the place existed except two people.

One was a young scientist.

The other...

Was the world's most dangerous experiment.

The laboratory was silent except for the humming of machines.

Glass containers filled with preserved human brains stood neatly arranged along one wall, each marked only with a number.

No names.

No photographs.

No records.

Just numbers.

A young man wearing a black shirt wandered through the laboratory as if he were visiting a museum instead of a place built upon countless murders.

He stopped before one container.

Number 47.

He tilted his head.

"I remember him."

The scientist looked up from his computer.

"You killed him."

"Mm."

"He was the detective."

"The one who kept following us."

The young man smiled faintly.

"He was annoying."

His tone carried no pride.

No hatred.

It was no different from commenting on today's weather.

The scientist sighed before returning to his work.

"You've described almost everyone as annoying."

"They usually are."

Silence returned.

The scientist continued typing.

Data streamed across several monitors.

Neural pathways.

Memory mapping.

Brain activity.

Months of calculations.

Years of failures.

Decades of impossible theories.

The young man slowly walked behind him before casually reading the screen.

"Finished?"

"...Almost."

"You're slower than usual."

"I'm making sure you don't die."

The young man laughed softly.

"You've said that before."

"I was right before."

"And I survived."

"Barely."

He shrugged.

"Barely is still surviving."

The scientist pinched the bridge of his nose.

Sometimes he wondered whether meeting this man had ruined his own life.

Or perhaps...

Saved it.

Years ago...

They had first met inside a psychiatric hospital.

The scientist had been committed after becoming obsessed with experiments that no ethics committee would ever approve.

The young man...

No doctor had ever managed to explain him.

He wasn't violent without reason.

He wasn't delusional.

He wasn't insane in the traditional sense.

He simply lacked something everyone else possessed.

Fear.

Guilt.

Empathy.

The doctors spent years trying to understand him.

He spent those years observing the doctors.

One rainy night...

They escaped together.

Neither of them ever looked back.

The scientist pursued knowledge.

The young man pursued curiosity.

That was enough.

Years passed.

People disappeared.

Detectives.

Contract killers.

Military officers.

Master hackers.

Career criminals.

Intelligence agents.

Some deserved prison.

Some deserved medals.

To the young man...

There had never been a difference.

If someone possessed knowledge they wanted...

They became part of an experiment.

Nothing more.

The scientist removed what he needed.

The bodies disappeared.

The world searched endlessly for missing people.

No one searched beneath an abandoned psychiatric hospital.

...

"You know..."

The scientist finally spoke.

"This experiment shouldn't work."

"It might."

"It shouldn't."

"It might."

"The human brain can't safely absorb this amount of information."

"It might."

The scientist stared at him.

"You enjoy saying that."

The young man nodded.

"I do."

The scientist couldn't help laughing.

Sometimes he forgot who stood beside him.

The man looked so ordinary.

Young.

Handsome.

Polite.

He spoke calmly.

He smiled often.

Then, without hesitation, he would discuss murdering someone the same way another person discussed grocery shopping.

"You really aren't scared?"

The young man looked genuinely confused.

"Of what?"

"Dying."

He thought for several seconds.

Then answered honestly.

"I've never understood why everyone fears it."

"If I die..."

"I die."

"If I don't..."

"I'll wake up."

"Either way, something happens."

The scientist shook his head.

"You really are impossible."

The young man smiled.

"I've heard that before."

The scientist stood and walked toward a reinforced steel door.

Behind it waited the operating room.

Bright white lights illuminated a single chair surrounded by dozens of machines.

Thousands of wires stretched across the floor.

Memory transfer arrays.

Neural synchronizers.

Experimental equipment no government would legally allow to exist.

The scientist stopped at the doorway.

"I finished extracting everything."

The young man walked inside.

"How many?"

The scientist answered quietly.

"One hundred and thirty-seven."

The young man raised an eyebrow.

"More than I expected."

"A lifetime of memories."

"Detectives."

"Military strategists."

"Professional assassins."

"Psychologists."

"Negotiators."

"Financial criminals."

"Theoretical physicists."

"Doctors."

The scientist looked at him.

"If this succeeds..."

"You won't just remember facts."

"You'll inherit fragments of how they thought."

The young man smiled wider.

"Interesting."

"If it fails..."

"You'll suffer complete brain death."

He nodded.

"Also interesting."

The scientist frowned.

"Can you take anything seriously?"

"I am."

"No."

"You just don't care."

The young man considered those words.

After a long silence...

"I suppose you're right."

He sat in the chair.

Mechanical arms slowly surrounded his head.

Cold metal touched his temples.

The scientist's fingers hovered above the keyboard.

Neither of them spoke.

The room suddenly felt much quieter.

Finally...

The scientist asked,

"Why?"

The young man looked at him.

"You've never asked."

"I want an answer today."

"Why volunteer every single time?"

"You know this could kill you."

The young man looked toward the ceiling.

After nearly a minute...

He finally answered.

"I'm curious."

"That's all?"

"That's enough."

"If humanity says something is impossible..."

"I want to see it."

"If everyone says I'll die..."

"I want to know whether they're right."

The scientist laughed bitterly.

"You really are my greatest success."

The young man corrected him.

"No."

"I'm your first customer."

The scientist froze.

Years ago...

When they first escaped together...

The scientist had jokingly declared,

«"One day I'll create something that changes humanity."»

The young man had answered,

«"Then use me first."»

"I'll always be your first customer."

The scientist remembered.

He smiled despite himself.

"...You remembered."

"I remember everything worth remembering."

The scientist took a deep breath.

"Ready?"

The young man closed his eyes.

"Whenever."

The scientist's hand rested on the activation switch.

For the first time in years...

It trembled.

"...You could really die."

Without opening his eyes...

The young man replied calmly,

"Then don't waste my death."

The machines came alive.

Electricity surged through the room.

Every monitor lit up at once.

Brainwave activity climbed beyond every previous experiment.

The scientist's eyes widened.

"Impossible..."

Neural synchronization exceeded one hundred percent.

The memories began merging.

One mind.

Then another.

Then hundreds.

The young man's body suddenly convulsed violently.

Blood flowed from his nose.

Warning alarms echoed throughout the laboratory.

"Synchronization unstable!"

The scientist rushed toward the controls.

"No..."

"No!"

The heartbeat monitor accelerated.

Faster.

Faster.

Then—

A single endless tone filled the room.

The monitor became a straight line.

The scientist stood frozen.

"...No."

His voice barely escaped his lips.

The laboratory fell silent.

The experiment had ended.

His first customer...

Had died.

The laboratory was silent.

The endless tone from the heart monitor echoed through the room before the scientist finally reached over and switched it off.

Silence returned.

He stared at the young man sitting motionless in the chair.

"...No."

His voice cracked.

"No... this wasn't supposed to happen."

He rushed forward, checking his pulse again.

Nothing.

His heartbeat.

Nothing.

His pupils no longer reacted to light.

For nearly ten minutes, he tried everything he knew.

Chest compressions.

Defibrillation.

Adrenaline.

Artificial ventilation.

Every emergency procedure.

Nothing.

The body never responded.

Finally...

His hands slowly dropped to his sides.

"...You actually died."

A bitter laugh escaped him.

"You idiot..."

"I told you."

"You really became my first customer."

The scientist sank to the floor, leaning against the operating chair.

For a long time, he simply sat there.

The laboratory, once filled with arguments and teasing, felt unbearably empty.

No one commented on his terrible coffee.

No one wandered around touching expensive equipment without permission.

No one smiled and asked,

«"Finished?"»

He lowered his head.

"...You really left first."

...

Hours passed.

The scientist finally stood.

His eyes had regained their calm.

He walked toward a large steel cabinet and removed a black backpack.

Inside were several passports.

Bundles of cash.

Encrypted hard drives.

A pistol.

Satellite phones.

Emergency medicine.

Everything they had prepared over the years in case one day they needed to disappear.

He looked around the laboratory.

Every machine...

Every computer...

Every sample...

Years of research.

Years of impossible experiments.

Years of crimes.

He pressed a small remote.

A calm electronic voice answered.

"Self-destruction sequence confirmed."

A timer appeared on every monitor.

30:00

He nodded once.

"There shouldn't be anything left."

He had no intention of letting anyone repeat his research.

Humanity wasn't ready.

Perhaps...

No one ever would be.

He returned to the operating room.

The young man still sat quietly in the chair.

Looking almost asleep.

The scientist pulled another chair beside him and sat down.

"...Remember the hospital?"

No answer.

"You stole the director's keys."

"I blamed the nurse."

A faint smile appeared on his face.

"You laughed for nearly an hour."

Silence.

"You said hospitals were boring."

"You said the world outside would be much more interesting."

His fingers tightened.

"...You were right."

He looked at his friend's peaceful face.

"You know..."

"I never thanked you."

"If you hadn't escaped with me..."

"I would've spent my life locked inside that hospital."

"You gave me freedom."

"You gave me unlimited funding."

"You gave me subjects."

"You even let me use your own brain as my laboratory."

The scientist chuckled quietly.

"...What an absurd friendship."

To anyone else...

It would have sounded insane.

Perhaps it was.

But they had never needed ordinary friendships.

They never lied to each other.

They never judged each other.

That was enough.

The countdown continued.

18:42

The scientist slowly stood.

He disconnected every wire from the body with surprising care.

Then he adjusted his friend's black shirt and brushed away the dried blood from the corner of his mouth.

"You hated looking untidy."

He stepped back.

"...Goodbye."

He turned toward the exit.

His hand reached the door.

Then...

He stopped.

"...No."

He laughed at himself.

"You'd call me a hypocrite."

He slowly turned around.

"You once asked me..."

"'If I die first, will you keep living?'"

"I answered yes."

"...I lied."

The scientist walked back to the operating chair.

He pulled another chair beside it and sat down.

The countdown reached...

09:11

He leaned back and closed his eyes.

"You've always hated waiting."

"So..."

"I'll save you the trouble."

He took a small injector from his pocket.

Without hesitation...

He pressed it against his neck.

A soft click echoed through the room.

The poison entered his bloodstream.

It was one of his own creations.

Painless.

Fast.

His breathing gradually slowed.

A weak smile appeared on his face.

"You always said..."

"'Being alone sounds boring.'"

"I agree."

His vision blurred.

The timer reached...

00:15

He turned his head toward his friend's lifeless body one last time.

"...I'm coming."

The final seconds disappeared.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

The underground laboratory vanished beneath a sea of fire.

No research survived.

No evidence remained.

No trace of the two men who had once escaped from a forgotten psychiatric hospital.

To the world...

They had never existed.

Far away...

In a luxury hospital overlooking Sydney Harbour...

A long, continuous tone suddenly echoed through another room.

One life had just ended.

Another was about to begin.

Sydney.

The rain washed over the city before sunrise.

Far above the streets, the top three floors of Blackwood Private Medical Centre had been completely sealed.

No reporters.

No ordinary patients.

No visitors.

The entire floor belonged to one person.

Adrian Blackwood.

Inside the operating room, more than twenty specialists worked in complete silence.

Every one of them was among the best in Australia.

Normally, a surgery of this scale would have been broadcast to medical universities around the world as a learning case.

Today...

No cameras were allowed.

The patient's identity alone was enough to silence everyone.

The heartbeat monitor suddenly dropped.

A nurse's face turned pale.

"Blood pressure is falling."

The chief surgeon didn't even look up.

"Epinephrine."

"Already administered."

"Again."

Another doctor spoke.

"Heart rhythm collapsing."

"Prepare defibrillator."

Outside the operating room...

A red light remained lit.

No one dared approach the waiting area.

The hallway was empty except for four people.

A tall man stood before the glass wall overlooking Sydney.

His tailored black suit showed not a single wrinkle.

His face remained expressionless.

Yet no one would have mistaken that calm for peace.

This was Vincent Blackwood.

Chairman of Blackwood International.

One of the wealthiest men in Australia.

A man whose name appeared on magazine covers, charity foundations and business conferences.

To the public...

He was an admired businessman.

Only a handful of people knew another side of his empire.

His eyes never left the operating room door.

"...How long?"

A man behind him checked his watch.

"Five hours, sir."

Vincent said nothing.

Nearby sat a woman clutching a folded sweater.

She held it against her chest as if afraid someone would take it away.

Every few minutes she looked toward the operating room.

Then lowered her head again.

Her name was Evelyn Blackwood.

Adrian's mother.

She had prepared breakfast herself this morning.

She had promised Adrian that after the surgery they would eat together in the hospital garden.

The breakfast still sat untouched inside a thermal bag beside her.

Across from them stood two young men.

The eldest, Alexander Blackwood, stared silently at the floor.

The younger, Lucas Blackwood, walked back and forth through the hallway.

Finally...

Lucas stopped.

"I should've gone with him."

Alexander answered without raising his head.

"You did."

"I mean inside."

"We're not surgeons."

"I know."

Silence returned.

The atmosphere grew heavier with every passing minute.

A secretary cautiously approached Vincent.

"Sir..."

"The Prime Minister's office called again."

"They're asking whether today's meeting—"

"It's cancelled."

"They said it's urgent."

Vincent finally looked at him.

"My son is in surgery."

The secretary immediately lowered his head.

"I understand."

He left without another word.

No one questioned the decision.

Not today.

...

Inside the operating room...

"Cardiac arrest!"

The surgeon immediately responded.

"Charge to two hundred!"

The paddles pressed against Adrian's chest.

"Clear!"

His body jerked violently.

Nothing.

"Again!"

"Clear!"

Another shock.

Still nothing.

The room remained silent except for alarms.

One nurse quietly wiped tears from her eyes while continuing to work.

She had looked after Adrian for nearly seven years.

Everyone in the hospital knew him.

He thanked every nurse.

Remembered every birthday.

Never complained about painful treatments.

Even when he was too weak to stand...

He still smiled.

The surgeon refused to stop.

"Again!"

One shock.

Two.

Three.

Minutes passed.

The monitor finally produced one long...

Unbroken...

Tone.

No one moved.

The surgeon slowly removed his gloves.

His shoulders dropped.

"...Time of death."

No one spoke.

Several doctors lowered their heads.

The nurse who had been treating Adrian since childhood quietly covered her mouth to stop herself from crying.

The operating room doors slowly opened.

The chief surgeon stepped outside.

Everyone immediately stood.

Vincent looked directly at him.

He didn't ask.

He already knew.

The surgeon bowed deeply.

"I'm sorry..."

"We couldn't save him."

The hallway became completely silent.

Evelyn stared at the doctor.

"No..."

She smiled weakly.

"No..."

"You're mistaken."

"He promised..."

"He promised we'd have breakfast."

No one answered.

Lucas punched the wall so hard that blood immediately ran down his knuckles.

Alexander closed his eyes.

Vincent remained standing.

Completely still.

For nearly thirty seconds...

He didn't move.

Then he quietly asked,

"...Can we see him?"

The surgeon nodded.

"Of course."

The family slowly entered the room.

Adrian lay peacefully on the operating table.

He looked as though he had simply fallen asleep.

Evelyn gently held his cold hand.

"...Breakfast will get cold."

Her voice broke.

"You always hated cold food."

Alexander looked away.

Lucas covered his face.

Vincent stood beside the bed.

He reached out...

And gently brushed a strand of hair away from Adrian's forehead.

The last time he had done that...

Adrian had been six years old.

"I should have spent more time with you."

His voice was barely audible.

"I thought..."

"There would be more years."

No one noticed...

The heart monitor beside Adrian's bed flickered.

Once.

Then again.

A finger twitched.

So slightly...

That everyone believed they had imagined it.

The monitor suddenly gave a single...

Beep.

The surgeon froze.

"...Wait."

Another beep.

Then another.

A weak heartbeat slowly returned.

Everyone stared in disbelief.

The line that had been completely flat...

Began to rise once more.

And somewhere...

Deep within that body...

A pair of eyes slowly opened.