Rin’s fingers flew over the panel, sweat beading on her forehead.

00:42… 00:41…

“I can’t override it from here!” she shouted.

Rae slammed her fists against the sealed door. “Then tell me what to punch!”

A vent above them hissed louder. The gas wasn’t just a sedative—it shimmered faintly in the light. Something synthetic. Engineered.

“She's exposing us to the serum,” Rin realized. “An airborne variant. She wants to see if our bodies reject it—or transform.”

00:30…

The room felt smaller. Rae’s fists shook.

“I’m not her lab rat,” she growled.

Rin’s gaze darted to the ceiling. “The ventilation system. If we clog the intake, the pressure might force a reboot.”

Rae didn't wait. She ripped a metal panel from the wall, folded it in half, and hurled it straight into the vent.

A deep, metallic thud.

Then silence.

00:12… 00:11… 00:10…

The countdown blinked once.

MALFUNCTION DETECTED. PROTOCOL HALTED.

Rae exhaled hard, coughing. Rin collapsed to her knees, coughing too.

The gas began to dissipate.

A hidden door slid open behind them. A corridor—clean, white, humming softly.

On the floor: two syringes. Labeled only with their names.

DO RAE. DO RIN.

Rin crawled toward them, inspecting the labels. “She’s giving us a choice,” she whispered. “Inject ourselves… or walk away. See if we want to become something beyond human.”

Rae picked up hers. “What if this changes us? What if we’re not… us anymore?”

Rin looked up at her sister, calm despite the adrenaline.

“We already changed the moment we stepped into this room. The only question is… who do we want to be when we walk out?”

Rae stared at the syringe.

And then, without looking away from Rin, she jabbed it into her arm.