4 The Sketchy Flirt

Time and again, everything didn't go her way - the world is holding some sort of fervent grudge towards her, it seems.

Anastasia wakes up to find herself lying on a frigid metal flooring of the same laboratory that she's forced to call home. In front of her is a flock of white-coated individuals.

They're busying themselves in this choreographed maneuver of drawing pipettes of fluid from one tube to another and moving along with the rhythmic whisper of machineries.

"001," was the name they called her - an appropriate label for a mere test subject.

One of them then paces closer to her, a syringe with an esoteric dose in hand. Appalled by its glinting, silvery peak, she tries to scram as she desperately pleads, "N-No... Please... Stop it... Stop!"

Utilized like a non-living tool.

Deprived of the right to dissent.

Beaten to a pulp day after day.

Stripped off of every fiber of her humanity.

Anastasia might as well die in vain. She doesn't want to live through that hellish nightmare again - one that will keep haunting her forever, whether she's sleeping or awake.

There's no point to living if death is all that awaits her in the end.

"Gah!"

With a yelp, Anastasia abruptly jolts from her slumber and gasps for air, eyes flying open in flummox. It's only then that she realized she's not in that hell hole of a lab all along.

Instead of a stiff cold ground, she regains consciousness in a grandiose bed with see-through curtains draping all over its sides and a soft, fluffy cushion that bounces slightly the instant she sits right up. Though immensely bewildered, she heaves a sigh of relief at this.

Appearances may be deceitful, but she still lets this reposeful view soothe her for now - a momentary calm.

"Hmmm..."

That's until she hears someone groaning.

Taken aback, Anastasia turns to her left before finding the same guy who was chasing after her earlier. He's starting to stir awake from his nap, face buried in his folded arms as his upper body lies silently on the side of her bed.

She braces herself and swerves back around, crawling away ever so slowly so as to keep him from leaving whatever dreamland he's presently in.

But then, it ends up ineffective.

He already wakes up before she knows it, eyes fluttering open before widening in surprise upon seeing her sneaking away.

"Sia!"

"Kyaa!!"

Caught off guard, Anastasia hastily hurls a pillow straight to his face, which then caused her to lose balance and fall off the bed with a loud thud.

Both of them react flabbergasted at this cascading chain of events. While she goes tumbling on the floor, he struggles to take back his composure as he steadies his wobbling chair.

"Sia?! Wait, I'm coming!" he exclaimed, concern laced in his voice.

"D-Don't! S-Stay back!" she shouted in reply while caressing her aching back, barely managing her tough facade.

"Are you okay? Do you feel fine now? How's your body?"

Then, she freezes.

He just sounds so worried that it's bemusing. She can't believe that he's asking her that after all this time.

This guy is probably the very definition of enigma. After all, not only did he appear like coming after her head, but he also threatened her with a gun earlier -

Or did he?

"J-Just... Just what is it that you're after? Aren't you one of them?" Anastasia tried to interrogate, making him blink in puzzlement.

"One of who?" he asked, tone as collected as the surface of still water, before making his way towards her.

"I said stay back!"

"I'm not going to hurt you. Can I please just check your-"

"No...! You're after something from me! I know you do! You're going to kill me, right?! You knew I'm in that coffin. You even chased after me! You're just like those people who used me!"

Confounded at her uncalled-for accusation, he halts on his tracks for a moment, eyes as wide as saucers. Anastasia only glues herself on the corner near the entrance to a balcony, figure visibly trembling.

They just exchange looks as silence stretches between them. Upon seeing her pupils glisten with tears, his surprised face then contorts into a burdened one before he eventually breaks the sprawling quietude and continues to walk towards her.

"Please, let me know if you're okay for now. I promise I'll explain everything after that. I promise I won't hurt you," he voiced out almost pleadingly, much to her surprise.

"N-No... I... I don't..." she trailed off, expression weary, as she stooped low to hide her face.

That's until he suddenly scoots closer to her, leaving but an inch of gap in between, and lifts her chin with his finger before gently wiping the rolling tear that escaped her eyelid.

"Don't cry. Tears don't suit your pretty face..."

Then, she flinched.

Anastasia has to double take on that.

She thinks she heard wrong.

"...You know, a girl like you shouldn't run so carelessly. Your dress was all ruined, your hair's a mess, and you're soaking wet when I brought you back! Oh, and do you know how scared I was when you got struck by that lightning? I was scared out of my wits! My soul left my body...! I just simply couldn't stomach seeing you in such a state. Please, take care of yourself from now on."

For reasons that remain muddled and vague, he just began rambling all of the sudden, looking extremely disgruntled. Saying that Anastasia is confused is probably an understatement.

She's supposed to suspect him even more after all, but the way he spouted out that nonsense is making it difficult to do so. His sincere voice, tender touch, imploring look and that exaggerated reaction - they're all triggering a reverse response from her with how authentic they seem.

"W-What are you talking about? Just who are you exactly? W-Why does it sound like you know who I am when you called me earlier?" Anastasia questioned, visibly unnerved.

He only flashes a luscious smile at this, his once troubled face now brimming with relief. Then, as if she isn't surprised enough, he suddenly snatches her hand and inches his lips to it before proceeding to introduce himself.

"My name's Zen. It's nice to see you again, Sia," he remarked delightfully, voice a bit smoky and his scarlet irises gleaming with affection.

He then leans forward before kissing the back of her hand while still eyeing her meaningfully. At that point, all Anastasia can do is gawk at him in immense bafflement.