They arrived at Ms. Okita's office—though, more accurately, it was her private lab, filled with a myriad of strange devices and glass containers brimming with unknown substances. The air smelled faintly of chemicals, a sterile scent that hinted at endless experiments conducted in secrecy.
"Sit down, Travis," she instructed, gesturing towards a large chair situated in the middle of the room. It looked more like a high-tech interrogation seat than a place for learning, with thick armrests and faintly glinting metal cuffs.
Travis raised an eyebrow at the contraption but, true to his nature, shrugged nonchalantly and sat down. The moment he did, the cuffs snapped shut around his wrists, locking him in place. He didn't even flinch—just stared calmly at Ms. Okita, who seemed more excited than he was comfortable with.
'Hmm, this is quite the predicament,' he thought, watching her with keen eyes.
She picked up a notebook and a small vial containing a deep crimson liquid—the same aphrodisiac they'd experimented with before. The fluorescent light overhead reflected off the vial, casting a sinister gleam. Travis's gaze shifted to her, his muscles tense but his face relaxed.
"Now, Travis," she began softly, her eyes glittering, "I want to see just how effective this can be when directly administered in a controlled environment."
---
**Back Home**
Yumi sat awkwardly on the couch, unsure of what to do with herself as she glanced at the TV screen. The room was eerily quiet except for the strange narration of the documentary Debbie had been watching before everything escalated earlier—a documentary that just so happened to be about the history of incestuous relationships. It was, to say the least, an odd choice for casual viewing. But as Yumi kept watching, she found herself somewhat drawn in, despite her reservations.
'I guess I should learn about everything, even the bizarre,' she thought dryly.
Debbie entered the living room holding a tray laden with a porcelain tea set. She carefully placed it on the coffee table and handed Yumi a steaming cup. Yumi accepted it with a polite smile, her hands wrapping around the delicate cup, feeling its comforting warmth.
"Thank you," Yumi said softly.
Debbie sat beside her, smoothing her skirt. "So," she began, glancing curiously at Yumi's still-intact uniform, "when are you planning to get your things? I mean, you're not going to be in that outfit forever, are you?"
Yumi took a slow sip of tea. "My partner, Harold, will be getting them for me," she replied. "I'm hoping he'll drop them off soon. I appreciate your concern."
Debbie's eyes lit up with interest. "Oh, so Harold knows where you live? You two must be really close."
Yumi hesitated, wondering if Debbie meant something more by that. "Yes, we've been working together for years. We've built quite a strong bond."
Debbie leaned in conspiratorially, her voice dropping. "You must know his family well, then?"
"Of course," Yumi said, nodding. "His daughter and I have a good relationship. But… his wife is another story. She's gotten pretty strict lately."
Debbie nodded knowingly, her expression reflective. "I know what you mean. My son is a friend of their daughter. I think she's gotten more… intense. All that church stuff." Debbie waved her hand dismissively.
Yumi chuckled. "More like a cult than a church. Harold is always ranting about how over-the-top she's become."
"I believe it," Debbie replied with a sigh. "My twin sister lives right next to that church. She's heard some weird noises at night. The chanting, the singing—it's all very unsettling."
The two women shared a look of mutual understanding. Debbie glanced back at the TV, her face suddenly flushing red as she remembered the content they were watching. Fumbling for the remote, she moved to switch it off, embarrassment etched across her face.
But Yumi, surprisingly, reached out and stopped her. "No, don't turn it off," she murmured, her cheeks slightly pink as well. "It's… um, interesting."
Debbie blinked, then smiled, feeling oddly reassured by Yumi's unexpected candor. She relaxed back into the couch, and the two continued watching the bizarre documentary together, their conversation drifting into comfortable, easy territory as they bonded over the strangest of topics.
< Summerville College >
Ms. Okita's cold, methodical demeanor faded into the background as Travis stretched, cracking his neck as he left the lab. The cuffs hadn't really restrained him—just another one of her over-the-top precautions, like most things she did. He glanced around the hallway, empty and quiet except for the faint hum of the fluorescent lights, before making his way back to class.
When he entered, the room was buzzing with chatter, papers flying around, and students half-heartedly throwing things at each other. It looked more like a zoo than a classroom. He glanced toward the front of the class, but the teacher hadn't arrived yet. Typical.
Travis found his seat and slouched into it, his eyes lazily sweeping the chaos in front of him. To his left sat Rebecca Hendricks, a girl who embodied the term "mean girl" to a tee. She was all attitude and vanity, always flaunting her looks—the sharp contrast of her fiery hair and pale, freckled skin often made her the center of attention. Right now, she was fully engrossed in her phone, scrolling with an air of superiority as if nothing in this class could possibly interest her.
Noticing his gaze, Rebecca abruptly raised her head, her bright green eyes narrowing with instant disdain. "The hell are you staring at, nerd?" she snapped, her voice dripping with venom.
Travis didn't flinch. He simply met her gaze, squinting slightly, debating whether she was worth a response. But then he decided against it, rolling his eyes internally.
Right infront of him , he caught Missy glaring at him, her expression unreadable, but her eyes locked onto him like she was trying to figure out what was going through his mind. He stared back for a second, but then his eyes drifted to the girl next to her—Roxxy. She was gesturing wildly, mid-rant, probably about something trivial, as her friend beside her pretended to care.
Travis sighed inwardly, sinking further into his seat. ' Man, how did I end up here?' He looked around at the chaos unfolding before him, wondering how much more nonsense this day had left in store.
TO BE CONTINUED