Celina rubs her face as she groans, slumped in her lab chair.
The lab lights buzz faintly above her, bleaching the room in cold white.
Papers, unfinished test reports, residue samples — all scattered around her like the aftermath of a storm she created herself.
She keeps rereading the documents, flipping each page with a growing desperation, eyes scanning lines she's already read a hundred times.
Nothing.
Zero trace of Veynar.
As if the man evaporated from existence.
The air feels dry, heavy, suffocating — like the room is shrinking with every dead-end result.
Celina exhales sharply, frustration twisting inside her.
She looks seconds away from yanking her own hair out.
"Celina?"
Jian enters the room.
His voice echoes softly through the sterile silence.
Celina swivels her seat harshly to face Jian.
"What?"
"Still over Veynar?" Jian sighs, walking over. He sets a cold can of peach tea into her hands — condensation dripping onto her gloves.
"It's so confusing and exhausting..." she groans, shaking the can before popping it open.
"It makes no senseeeee."
She chugs half the drink in one go.
Jian watches her with a concerned look, shoulders dropping slightly.
"The Shadow Order already set that he's dead. You shouldn't tire yourself, Celina."
Celina looks away, jaw clenched, eyes dim.
"It makes. No sense. This isn't Veynar."
She stares down at her lap, the papers in her hands trembling faintly.
Jian reaches out and gently pats her head.
"Don't make it consume you, Celina."
He offers her a soft smile.
Celina groans and shoves his hand away — not angry, just worn out.
"It's not consuming me, it's… it's just—"
She lets herself melt back into the chair, arms dangling like her entire soul just deflated.
Jian chuckles as he turns away.
"You coming to the tournament today?"
Celina lifts her eyes slowly.
"Why would I? It's the same lame boring thing. Fight fight fight, and whoever is stronger wins."
Jian tilts his head.
"You haven't heard? Asim is compet—"
"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?"
Celina shoots straight up from her chair, almost knocking it over. She stares at Jian wide-eyed.
"Asim? THAT GUY?"
"Yeah, he's in the tournament."
Celina looks absolutely dumbfounded.
"Asim, that Asim. Our Asim, that we know?"
Jian stares at her.
"Yeah? Why?"
….
"That's… honestly random…" she murmurs, scratching her head, her oversized sleeves flapping as she moves.
"Asim isn't the person to like tournaments. Let alone fight without a reason."
Celina sighs, then abruptly stands up.
"Alright. I'm convinced. C'mon."
Jian smiles and turns toward the door.
"It'll start soon."