I stood frozen for a moment, the weight of Hana's words sinking in. Project Aeon. It sounded clinical, like something out of a dystopian novel. But there was nothing fictional about this—whatever it was, it was real, and we were entangled in it.
"What's Project Aeon?" I asked again, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice.
Hana took a deep breath, glancing up from her laptop. Her eyes flickered with a mix of anger and sorrow. "It's more than just human enhancement through technology. It's a front... for human trafficking. The Art Academy has been bribed by a shadow organization. They're using students for illegal human experiments, and Project Aeon is at the center of it all."
My stomach twisted. Human trafficking? I couldn't wrap my head around it. "But why? Why use an art academy for something like this?"
Hana's fingers flew across the keyboard, pulling up document after document—schematics, names, even photos. "The Art Academy is the perfect cover. No one would suspect a prestigious institution focused on creativity and art to be harboring a hidden science lab. It's secluded, away from the public eye, and full of unsuspecting students. The university stands to gain immensely if the experiments succeed. If they were able to develop something like the Oculus Aeternum and make it a success, it would boost their reputation beyond belief. Prestige. Credibility. Money."
I felt a cold shiver crawl up my spine. "And what happens if the experiments fail?"
Hana's jaw clenched. She opened a file showing testimonies from anonymous students—photos of medical records, charts of physical injuries. "Many students have already been injured—some have lost their vision entirely. These aren't just failed experiments; they're deliberate attempts to push human limits, with no regard for the consequences."
I stared at the screen, my heart racing. "And these students... they're just—"
"Expendable," Hana interrupted, her voice bitter. "Most of them are from poor families, desperate for education, willing to take risks to get into the university. They're given financial aid, scholarships, everything they need to succeed. And when the experiments go wrong, the university pays off the families, hands them hush money, and ensures none of it ever reaches the media. No one speaks out because they're afraid. And those that do… disappear."
A sickening realization hit me. "Wilburt must have found out. That's why he disappeared."
Hana nodded, her expression grim. "Exactly. He's been digging into this for weeks. But the deeper he got, the more dangerous it became. And now, they're hunting us because we know too much."
The room fell into a tense silence, the weight of everything pressing down on me. The Art Academy—the place I had dreamed of attending—wasn't just a school. It was a front for something dark, something that preyed on the vulnerable for profit and power.
I slumped into a nearby chair, my mind racing. "So, what now? Do we go back to classes and pretend like none of this is happening?"
Hana's eyes met mine, her face unreadable. "My father has already briefed your parents. They know where you are and that you're safe in the meantime. But they're worried—rightfully so. Going back to the Art Academy could be risky. They'll have eyes on you, waiting for a chance to pull you in."
"Then why not just run? Why not leave all this behind?" I asked, the fear creeping into my voice.
Hana leaned forward, her tone serious. "Because if we run, they win. If we don't expose them, more students will get hurt. More families will be silenced with blood money. And eventually, they'll find us. They always do."
I ran my hands through my hair, frustration bubbling to the surface. "But how do we fight something this big? They control everything—the university, the experiments, even the families."
"We don't need to fight them head-on," Hana replied, her fingers tracing over the documents on her laptop. "We just need to find Wilburt. He's the key. He's been collecting evidence—data, files, everything that can expose the truth. If we can get that information to the right people, it'll blow the whole operation wide open."
I felt a surge of hope at her words. "You really think that'll work?"
"It has to," she said quietly. "And we have to act fast. The longer we wait, the more dangerous it gets. Right now, your safety is our priority, but staying hidden forever isn't an option."
A wave of unease washed over me. My mind was spinning with questions. Do I go back to classes? Pretending nothing had happened felt impossible. But sitting in the safe house, waiting for the world to burn, didn't feel much better.
Hana stood, closing her laptop and pacing the room. "You have a choice to make," she said finally. "You can either go back to the university, keep your head down, and act like everything is normal while we work behind the scenes. Or… we can take a more direct route. Start gathering intel ourselves. It's risky, but it might be the only way to find Wilburt before it's too late."
The weight of the decision pressed down on me like a boulder. Return to the Art Academy, where I could be hunted at any moment, or join Hana in a dangerous game of espionage, with no guarantee of success. Both paths felt treacherous.
Before I could respond, a new clue popped into my mind.
"Wait," I said, my voice shaky. "I remember something. Wilburt met me at the bar a few days before he disappeared. He mentioned that he had been meeting with a student—someone who survived a mysterious project but has been hiding. This person knew everything, and they might have told Wilburt something critical."
Hana's eyes widened. "Why didn't you tell me this earlier?"
"I didn't know that survivor is from Project Aeon. Wilburt didn't mention the project name." I admitted, my voice faltering. "But now, connecting the dots, it is highly possible and that survivor could be from Project Aeon. He might have left something behind."
Hana's fingers danced over her keyboard. "Do you remember anything else? A location, a name?"
I tried to rack my brain, the conversation with Wilburt replaying in fragments. And then it hit me—a scribble in his notebook. "I think he circled a date on his calendar... and there was something about a storage facility near the campus. Maybe he left notes there."
Hana stood up, her eyes blazing with determination. "That's our next move. We need to find that student. If Wilburt was meeting with the survivor, there's a good chance they have the information we need."
The silence between us stretched, heavy with uncertainty. My mind swirled with possibilities—none of the survivor is safe, all of them filled with peril. The truth about Project Aeon, Wilburt's disappearance, the human experiments, the bribed families… it was a storm I never saw coming.
I stood up and quietly wandered through the rooms, needing to move. For a moment, I hesitated. I wasn't sure if I should disturb her. But something inside urged me forward. I grabbed two glasses of water from the kitchen, then walked over, offered her a drink and sat next to her.
"You're not sleeping either?" I asked softly.
She shook her head, not looking at me. "No. Too much on my mind."
There was a quiet between us that wasn't uncomfortable, but rather thick with unspoken thoughts. I knew what she meant—our minds were both spinning in the same direction.
After a long silence, Hana finally spoke again, her voice barely above a whisper. "You know, I've been through a lot of dangerous situations before… but this feels different."
I turned to her, surprised by the rawness in her voice. Hana always seemed so composed, so in control. This was the first time I had seen her hesitate.
"How so?" I asked, my voice gentle.
She stared out the window, her breath fogging the glass slightly. "Before, it was always about the mission. You go in, you follow orders, and you come out. Simple. But now… now it's personal. I got you involved in this mess. Wilburt too. And if anything happens to you…" her voice trailed off, as if she couldn't bear to finish the sentence.
I placed my hand on hers without thinking, a small gesture of comfort. The contact lingered longer than either of us expected. I felt her stiffen for a brief second, but she didn't pull away. She just let out a slow breath, and we sat there, my hand resting on hers, sharing a moment of silent connection.
"I don't blame you for any of this," I said quietly. "You didn't drag me into anything. I made the choice to get involved. And I'm not going to back down now."
She turned her head slightly, her eyes meeting mine. There was something different in the way she looked at me this time—something deeper. "You don't have to carry this weight alone," she said softly.
Neither of us moved, neither of us spoke. There was just the sound of our breathing and the distant hum of the night outside the safe house. The tension between us was undeniable, but neither of us acted on it. The moment was delicate, fragile.
After what felt like a lifetime of silence, Hana glanced down at our hands, then looked back at me. A flicker of hesitation crossed her face before she spoke again, her voice soft but steady.
"There's something I've been meaning to tell you," she began, her gaze shifting to the window as if unsure how to start. "Our families... well, they're not strangers."
I frowned, confused. "What do you mean?"
Hana sighed, her fingers tracing the edge of the windowsill. "My parents know your parents. They've known them for years. They're actually best friends."
Her words hung in the air for a moment, and I blinked in surprise, trying to process what she'd just said.
"Best friends?" I repeated, my mind racing.
She nodded. "I've heard stories about your parents... and you, actually. But I never met you in person. Not until now." She paused, her eyes finally meeting mine again. "When my dad found out what was happening to you, he... well, let's just say this isn't just another mission to him. It's personal."
My mind reeled with this new information. Our parents, best friends? It seemed surreal, like another layer of this strange, tangled web I had been thrust into. I had spent my whole life never really knowing about Hana or her family, and now, here we were, in the middle of a conspiracy far bigger than either of us.
"That's why you've been helping me," I said slowly, the pieces falling into place. "Not just because of Wilburt... but because of our families?"
Hana nodded, her expression softening. "I would have helped you anyway, but... yeah. I couldn't just stand by and let them take you."
A new kind of warmth settled over me, knowing that there was a deeper connection between us, one that went beyond the immediate danger we were facing. It felt like fate, as if our paths were always meant to cross, even in the strangest of circumstances.
Hana pulled her hand away gently and stood up, breaking the tension. "You should try to sleep," she said, her voice calm but with a trace of something deeper—something unspoken. "We'll figure things out in the morning."
Hana's eyes softened as she glanced outside, where several military operators were stationed around the perimeter of the safe house. "These are my father's men—elite operatives. They're conducting round-the-clock surveillance, armed with the best tactical equipment. They've handled high-risk operations before, so you're in good hands. They'll be rotating in shifts to make sure nothing gets past them. You won't even know they're there, but they're watching every corner."
I glanced out the window and saw the faint outline of figures moving with precision, each one positioned strategically. The flicker of confidence in Hana's voice helped ease some of the tension in my chest.
"I'll be back in the morning," she said, her voice steady. "Get some rest. We're going to need it."
I nodded, still processing everything she had just revealed. As she walked away, disappearing into the hallway, I realized that our relationship had shifted, the weight of our shared histories now binding us together in a way I hadn't expected.
As Hana left, the door closing softly behind her, the quiet of the safe house settled in. Despite the eerie stillness, knowing the operators were out there—silent, professional, and vigilant—brought a small measure of comfort. I sank onto the worn-out couch, letting the weight of the day wash over me. My mind swirled with thoughts of Project Aeon, of Wilburt, and the danger we were now tangled in.
Eventually, the exhaustion overtook my racing thoughts, and I drifted into a fitful sleep, knowing the storm still loomed just beyond the walls of the safe house.
But one thing was clear: whatever choice I made, nothing would ever be the same again.