Luri let out a deep sigh as the final level of the mysterious
Tower Game
collapsed into pixels, signaling her
victory
.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment. Normally, winning a game would give her a sense of satisfaction, but this time... something felt
off
.
She didn’t feel excited.
She
felt uneasy.
Her sharp eyes scanned the
ending screen
, taking in every tiny detail. There was no flashy celebration, no credits rolling—just a blank black screen with a single line of text:
"You have reached the summit. The truth awaits those who can see beyond the code."
Luri frowned. "The hell is that supposed to mean?"
She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms as she stared at the screen.
For an ordinary player, the game might’ve seemed like just a difficult
tower-climbing challenge
—100 floors of puzzles, enemies, and obstacles. But as a hacker, Luri
saw patterns
where others wouldn’t.
She grabbed a
pen
and
a fresh notebook
before restarting the game.
This time, she wouldn’t just play.
She would
analyze
every single detail.
Luri worked through each floor systematically, jotting down numbers, symbols, and patterns.
At
Floor 10
, she
froze
.
Her eyes widened as she stared at the screen. The way the symbols were arranged... the seemingly random
strings of numbers and letters
...
They
formed an entire mathematical formula
.
"What the hell..." Luri muttered, quickly writing it down.
She had no idea what it meant, but
her gut told her it was important
.
And she knew
exactly who to ask
.
"Lucas might know something about this," she mumbled.
Lucas was one of the smartest people she knew when it came to
biochemical research and experimental formulas
. If this equation was related to something important—like the secret research tied to the
Shaw family’s experiments
—then Lucas would
figure it out
.
Luri reached for her phone and called
Isaac
.
Across the city, in a dimly lit apartment,
Isaac was busy hacking
into the Shaw family’s
private accounts
.
He had spent the last several hours
digging through 20 years of financial records
, searching for
proof of illegal activity, hidden transactions, and confidential experiments
.
His fingers moved
rapidly
over the keyboard as lines of code flashed on the screen.
Just as he was about to crack into a
restricted database
, his phone
rang
.
He glanced at the caller ID.
Luri.
Isaac sighed and answered. "If you’re calling to brag about winning another game, I swear—"
Luri cut him off. "Shut up and listen, nerd. I found something huge."
Isaac rolled his eyes. "Of course, because gaming all day is so productive."
Luri smirked. "Oh, you mean how a game just handed me a
classified formula
while you’re still punching numbers like a caveman?"
Isaac stopped typing. "...What did you just say?"
"I said," Luri dragged out the words,
mocking him
, "that while you were playing detective, I was playing
a game that handed me a whole-ass formula
."
Isaac pinched the bridge of his nose. "You expect me to believe that a game—"
"A game designed for hackers," Luri corrected, "contained
hidden data
. I cracked it. Now, do you want to keep whining, or do you want me to send it?"
Isaac exhaled sharply. "Fine. Send it over."
"Ah, so now the genius hacker is asking me for help?" Luri teased.
Isaac groaned. "Luri, I swear to God—"
"Save the whining for later, old man. I’m sending it now."
Isaac rubbed his temples as he received the file. "If this turns out to be another one of your dumb pranks—"
"Yeah, yeah, shut up and check it already," Luri interrupted.
Isaac
clicked the file open
.
As soon as he saw the formula, his expression
darkened
.
"Luri," his voice turned serious, "do you have any idea what this is?"
Luri leaned back in her chair. "Nope. But judging by your tone, it’s important."
Isaac’s eyes
scanned the numbers and symbols
, his mind quickly processing what he was looking at.
"This... isn’t just some random equation. It’s a biological sequencing formula," he said. "And if I’m reading this right—"
"Then what?" Luri asked, suddenly intrigued.
Isaac
stared at the screen
, his fingers tightening around his mouse.
"This formula... might be connected to the research done on
Adrian
when he was a kid."
Luri’s smug expression disappeared.
"What?"
Isaac started typing again, running the numbers through a
decryption program
.
"If this is part of the Shaw family’s experiment... then we might have just found a way to
reverse
what they did to him."
For a moment,
silence filled the call.
Then Luri exhaled. "...So what you’re telling me is that a
stupid game just saved our asses?
"
Isaac groaned. "Don’t rub it in."
"Oh, I will," Luri grinned. "I’m going to
rub it in for life
."
Isaac shook his head. "I’m sending this to Lucas. He’ll know more."
Luri cracked her knuckles. "Good. Because if this formula is connected to Adrian’s past, then we need to move
fast
."
Isaac’s voice turned grim. "Yeah. Because if we figured it out... then the Shaw family might already know, too."
Ethan drifted in a place that felt neither alive nor dead.
Darkness stretched endlessly in every direction, swallowing time and space. There was no sound, no movement—only the heavy weight of something
pulling him down
, dragging him deeper into the void.
He wanted to move.
He wanted to breathe.
But he couldn’t.
His body was
numb
, his limbs like lead, as if his entire existence had been shackled.
Was he... dying?
The thought sent a shiver through him, but even that feeling faded too quickly.
A creeping fog rolled through his mind, curling around his memories, whispering...
Forget.
Ethan’s breath hitched. Forget? Forget what?
A sudden
pressure
coiled around his chest, and his heart began to pound. He tried to
open his eyes
, but the weight of the void
held them shut
. He fought against it, straining every muscle, but the darkness was relentless.
The whispers returned, soft and persuasive.
Let go. You don’t need to remember.
Forget.
No.
He couldn’t forget.
But the darkness
pressed deeper
, seeping into his bones, into his mind.
And then...
he did forget.
His mind began to
erase
itself, piece by piece.
His
home
disappeared first.
The warm light of the sun pouring through the tall glass windows. The scent of fresh flowers in the morning breeze. The sound of soft laughter echoing through the halls.
Gone.
His
family
faded next.
A tall, proud man with gray-streaked hair—his
father
. A kind woman with gentle hands—his
mother
. A strong, protective figure—his
elder brother
.
Their faces blurred, slipping away into the abyss.
Then, his
heart clenched painfully
as another memory unraveled.
A silver-eyed man with a soft voice and a broken heart.
Who was he?
Ethan’s breath came in shallow gasps, his mind fighting to hold on. But the whispers in the dark were merciless.
Forget. It’s easier that way.
His
beloved
disappeared next.
The one who always smiled at him, even when the world was cruel. The one who always reached for his hand, even when his own hands were trembling.
His
husband.
His
Adrian.
No.
Ethan’s chest burned.
The darkness was trying to take something
precious
, something
irreplaceable
.
A small laugh echoed in his head.
Soft, innocent giggles.
And then—
two tiny hands gripping his fingers.
A baby’s sleepy sigh against his chest.
His children.
His
twins.
No.
He couldn’t forget them.
If he was gone—if he let himself disappear—would they even remember him?
Would Adrian wake up one day and realize that the man who had promised to stay by his side was
just a ghost
?
Would his children
grow up without him
, never knowing the warmth of their father’s embrace?
No.
NO.
Ethan
refused.
His mind
snapped
against the darkness, and a surge of
strength
rushed through him.
"ADRIAN!"
The void
shook
.
A wave of
pain
slammed into Ethan’s body.
It felt like he was drowning, like he was being pulled up from deep underwater. His
lungs burned
, his heart pounded. His muscles screamed as he tried to move—tried to break free from the invisible chains keeping him prisoner.
He forced his fingers to
twitch
.
Then his hands.
His arms felt like they weighed a thousand tons, but he kept pushing.
Move.
Move!
His body
convulsed
, a sharp gasp escaping his lips.
He could hear something.
Someone was
crying.
A voice—shaky and desperate—called out his name.
"Ethan... please..."
Adrian.
That was
Adrian’s voice.
Ethan’s eyelids fluttered, his breath shallow and unsteady. He felt warmth—something
soft and trembling
against his chest.
It took every ounce of strength left in his body, but he finally forced his eyes
open.
Blurry light blinded him for a second. His vision swam with unfamiliar shapes. The world felt
too bright, too loud
—but then...
He saw
him.
Adrian.
Tears streamed down his pale face, his silver eyes red and swollen. He was clutching onto Ethan’s hand as if letting go would mean
losing him forever.
Ethan tried to move, but his body was too weak.
He tried to speak, but his throat was dry.
Still, he forced out the only words that mattered.
"...I love you."
Adrian
choked on a sob
and threw his arms around him.
The warmth of his embrace was everything.
Adrian’s shoulders trembled as he
held Ethan close
.
The room was
silent
, except for the sound of his quiet sobs.
Lucas, Isaac, Luri, Augustin, and Leclair all stood nearby, their faces wet with tears. They had
fought so hard
to bring Ethan back. To save him.
And now...
he was here.
"I thought I lost you," Adrian whispered against Ethan’s neck.
Ethan’s fingers weakly curled around Adrian’s sleeve.
"...I’m here," he murmured.
Adrian pulled back, brushing Ethan’s damp hair away from his forehead. He placed a
gentle kiss
there, his lips
lingering
.
Isaac exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. "Damn it, Ethan. You scared the hell out of us."
Lucas crossed his arms, but his voice was tight. "You’re a reckless bastard, you know that?"
Luri sniffed. "I can’t believe I actually cried. Disgusting."
Augustin smiled faintly, his usual cold expression softening. "Welcome back, Ethan."
Leclair said nothing, but the sheer
relief
in his eyes spoke louder than words.
Ethan chuckled weakly, exhaustion pressing down on him.
But before he slipped into sleep, he
tightened his grip on Adrian’s hand
.
He would
never
forget him again.
And he would
never
let the darkness win.