Finally, I stood face-to-face with the hospital gates.

  The moment I stepped inside, the sharp sting of sanitiser hit me—sterile, overwhelming, mixed with that unmistakable hospital scent. Clean. Quiet. Suffocating.

  No wonder I hated this place.

  William, my personal attendant, went ahead to inform the staff of my arrival.

  Trusting Michael felt like stepping into a wrestling match blindfolded. If things went too far… I might have to use that.

  “Young master,” William called after a moment.

  “They’ve asked us to proceed to the examination wing.”

  Ah… this was irritating.

  Even so, I didn’t really have a choice but to follow William. Inside the elevator, he pressed a different floor than usual.

  “When did you speak with Michael?” I asked.

  “A while before I came to get you, sir,” he replied, his tone unchanged—polite, neutral, unreadable.

  “I see.” The elevator hummed as it ascended, the numbers lighting up one by one.

  When the doors opened, silence greeted us.

  This wasn’t one of those cold, clinical testing labs I was usually dragged into.

  The space here felt… warmer. Softer lighting. Comfortable seating. Intentional calm.

  It unsettled me more than steel tables ever did.

  William led me to a room and asked me to go in alone.

  Again—unusual.

  Normally, he would insist on staying, hovering like a silent shield.

  I stepped inside.

  The person waiting for me was… this man? I scoffed. What the fuck was Damian Crew doing here?

  “You’re my doctor now?” I asked flatly. “Did Michael put you up to this?”

  Damian Crew—one of the most well-known doctors among the elites. Not one of those unhinged scientists obsessed with pushing limits, but certainly not someone I trusted either.

  “Relax,” Damian said easily. “I won’t prescribe an overdose of suppressants like that old fart.”

  “I know that much,” I replied, unimpressed.

  He smiled as he cleaned the spot on my arm, preparing to draw blood.

  “You’re smart. No wonder Michael chose you. But are you sure you can keep up with him? You lack experience.”

  “Can you keep quiet for a moment?” I frowned.

  “Your tone and your smile are infuriating.”

  Damian chuckled softly. “Oh my. How violent. Just like a certain someone I know.”

  “Michael and I are nothing alike,” I snapped, irritation seeping into my voice despite myself.

  Damian chuckled, a little louder this time.

  “Have you never heard the saying? Blood is thicker than water.”

  I stayed quiet, ignoring him until he finally turned his attention to my previous reports.

  When he did, his demeanor shifted—more professional, less teasing.

  “Tch. I knew your family was one to experiment on their own blood,” he said, sighing. “But to take it this far…”

  He glanced at the reports again before meeting my eyes.

  “Your body has been exhausted for a long time now, hasn’t it?”

  I didn’t answer.

  “The drugs they forced you to take are the reason,” he continued. “They’re also the reason your Surges aren’t occurring on schedule—or registering at their expected intensity—despite your status as an Enigma.”

  He set the file down.

  “The first thing I’m doing is lowering the potency of your suppressants. You only need enough to function. Not enough to shut down your body’s natural regulation.”

  I nodded, saying nothing.

  Damian sighed again before continuing.

  “I’ll have your personal attendant collect the new medication,” he said. Then his gaze sharpened. “And you— you need to learn how to exist as an actual Enigma.”

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

  I didn’t react.

  “Your biological constitution isn’t meant to break down this easily,” he went on. “Do you even realise the toll your body has taken until now?”

  “Tell me,” I said, shifting the topic to escape my own discomfort,

  “if you know Michael, then there has to be something going on with him too.”

  Damian didn’t hesitate.

  “He was experimented on as well,” he said.

  “He’s family, after all. Apex or Enigma—it doesn’t matter to them.”

  My breath stilled.

  “They wanted to see if they could create a stronger version of you using an Apex like Michael,” Damian continued.

  “And now?” His gaze hardened.

  “Now they’re trying to weaken you.”

  My eyes widened.

  Why? For what?

  Why would they want someone stronger—or worse, someone equal to me?

  Something in me snapped, and I laughed—loud, sharp, almost unhinged.

  There was a jabbing pain in my chest even as the sound tore out of me. I didn’t know why it hurt. I didn’t know why I was laughing.

  What I did know was this—

  There was a lot I had yet to learn.

  I steadied myself before looking back at Damian. His expression mirrored my calm, as if nothing unusual had happened.

  “Sorry about that,” I said. “Thanks for letting me know.”

  Damian only nodded.

  “Of course,” he replied. “I am a doctor, after all.”

  As soon as I stepped out of the hospital, I noticed William acting hesitant—skeptical, even.

  “William,” I said. “Spill it.”

  He hesitated before speaking.

  “Sir… the doctor who usually oversees your case has been reported missing since last night. Sir Michael suggested Doctor Damian in his place.”

  I cut in immediately. “And that means Father is furious?”

  William sighed, then nodded.

  I called Michael. The moment he picked up, I spoke.

  “Might as well get rid of him after you get the data. No?”

  A brief pause.

  “Planning to do just that,” Michael replied calmly. “Want to meet up?”

  “No,” I said flatly. “Keep the dirty blood on your hands for now.”

  I cut the call and leaned back in the plush seat of the car, turning my head to the window, facing the evening warmth and the city lights.

  I asked William to stop the car in front of a convenience store and went in to buy ice cream.

  If I were to get beaten anyway, I might as well make him angrier first.

  What was the worst my father could do?

  I bought an entire tub of dark chocolate ice cream and started chowing it down in the car.

  For the first time, I caught William looking slightly taken aback by my behaviour.

  And somehow… I enjoyed it.

  How was I supposed to explain this? The tension was exhilarating.

  Maybe I really was starting to lose it.

  The car pulled up to the mansion gates—my house. The bodyguards rushed to open the door, and I stepped out with the tub of ice cream still in one hand, the spoon in the other, eating as I walked in.

  I couldn’t lie. The flavour was good. A perfect balance of bitterness, sweetness, and creaminess.

  Mmm… this tasted absurdly good. How long had it been since I’d eaten ice cream this good?

  I glanced at the bodyguards.

  “Did my father ask you to call for me?”

  Their eyes widened immediately. “Y-yes, Young Master.”

  “Then go tell my father,” I said, pausing deliberately, “that I’ll come.”

  I lifted the spoon again.

  “After I finish this tub of ice cream.”

  I knew my father would be seething by now, but I walked in anyway—sat down on the couch, ice cream still in hand, the television blaring at full volume.

  My house, usually so quiet, was noisy.

  Normally, I would’ve felt obligated to keep it that way. But today—after everything I’d learned—my mind was already too loud. I couldn’t allow anyone else their peace when I felt myself so close to crashing.

  And it didn’t help that my suppressant dosage had been lowered.

  It was harder now to straighten my thoughts. Harder to keep my mind in line.

  Before I knew it, the tub of ice cream was empty.

  I sighed. I wanted more. Maybe this was what they called a sugar rush.

  I walked toward my father’s study. The door loomed—dark, heavy, familiar. Once, it had terrified me.

  Tonight, my mind was far more reckless than the room ever was.

  I knocked.

  The door opened immediately.

  My father didn’t speak. He grabbed me by the collar and dragged me inside. I stumbled, barely catching myself before he slammed the door shut behind us.

  The study was flooded with the dominant aura of an Apex—his.

  His Aura hit me like a wall.

  God, it was repulsive.

  I frowned instinctively, and before I could even lift my head, his hand closed around my neck and slammed my face against the desk.

  Pain exploded across my vision.

  “You know,” I muttered weakly, breath knocked from my lungs, “this is why Mom left—”

  That was a mistake.

  I felt his grip tighten. His eyes reddened, fury bleeding through every controlled line of his face as he forced my head down harder.

  “You brat,” he snarled. “Just because I let you off once—YOU’VE STARTED BARING YOUR FANGS AT ME?!”

  I felt breathless.

  What had I done to deserve this?

  Before I could rein in my thoughts—before fear or reason could catch up—my body moved on its own.

  My hand shot back, gripping his wrist, and in one sharp motion,

  I slammed him down against the desk beside me. Wood cracked. The sound split the room.

  W–what have I done?