Eren Jackson had learned how to sit with silence.
Not the peaceful kind—
the heavy, crushing silence that presses against your chest and reminds you that nothing is waiting for you tomorrow.
He stood by the narrow window of his apartment, watching the city lights blur through rain-stained glass. Another night. Another reminder of dreams he once had and buried without a grave. He had tried—tried school, tried working, tried believing that effort meant something. Life answered each attempt with the same cruel laugh.
Failure.
Eren's reflection stared back at him from the glass. A face that unsettled people at first glance—sharp and intense—but lingered in their thoughts long after. His black hair fell messily over sharp eyebrows that seemed permanently drawn into a scowl. His eyes were predatory, dark and alert, as if always watching for danger even when none was there. His face was chiseled, almost sculpted, walking the thin line between frightening and handsome. Tall, broad-shouldered, built like someone meant for greatness—yet standing in a room that smelled of emptiness.
People crossed the street when they saw him at night.
Some looked twice during the day.
None ever stayed.
"What a waste," he muttered, not sure if he meant his face… or his life.
His phone buzzed on the table behind him. A notification. Probably nothing important. He almost ignored it—almost—but boredom won.
The screen lit up.
[VOLUNTEERS NEEDED]
[Next-Generation DNA Evolution Program]
[High Risk. High Reward.]
[Change what it means to be human.]
Eren stared.
The ad was blunt. Honest. Terrifying. It didn't promise safety. It didn't pretend there were no consequences. It spoke of genetic alteration, cellular rewriting, human evolution pushed beyond its natural limits.
Most people would have laughed and scrolled past.
Eren felt something twist inside him.
Dangerous experiment.
High risk.
No guarantees.
His lips curled into a faint, humorless smile.
"What do I have to lose?"
He imagined rejection letters, empty days, the slow decay of hope. He imagined growing old with nothing but regret. Compared to that… death didn't seem so frightening.
And if he survived?
Maybe he wouldn't be empty anymore.
Eren's finger hovered over the screen. For the first time in years, his heart beat faster—not from fear, but from possibility.
He tapped APPLY.
Deep beneath reinforced steel and sterile white lights, a group of scientists gathered around a glowing screen filled with spiraling DNA structures.
"This will rewrite biology," one of them said, voice trembling with excitement.
They were brilliant minds—geneticists, bioengineers, molecular theorists—people the world would call mad if it knew what they were attempting. Their experiment was years in the making, fueled by obsession rather than approval.
"We're not just altering DNA," another added. "We're proving it can be guided. Controlled evolution."
"This will shatter religion, medicine, warfare—everything," a woman said, eyes gleaming behind her glasses. "Humanity will never look at itself the same way again."
They didn't speak of ethics.
They didn't speak of consequences.
Only results.
A notification chimed. A new application had arrived.
The room fell silent as the profile appeared on screen.
EREN JACKSON.
One of them smiled slowly.
"At last," he said. "Someone with nothing left to fear."
None of them noticed the chill that ran through the room
as if the future itself had just taken a breath.