Consultation Room

The silence in the consultation room was a suffocating weight. Across the small table sat Takizawa and Mishima, locked in a heavy stalemate. Outside the window, a deepening curtain of night pressed against the glass, and the feeble glow of the courtyard lights barely cut through the gloom.

Takizawa broke the silence, his voice low and deliberate.

“Before coming here today, there was something I absolutely had to confirm—I ran the additional experiments again. I told you before about the abnormality in the pH meter, but I needed to know exactly how much it had influenced the results.”

Takizawa’s hands were clenched tightly in his lap.

“In this new test, we administered the trial drug to the cultured cells, adjusting the conditions to match the pH meter’s erratic behavior at the time. The result was… abnormal cell proliferation.”

Choosing his words carefully, he continued, his tone solemn.

“When we investigated the cause, we found that the SV40-like sequence we used as a promoter was not just acting as an intended genetic switch. It was aggressively promoting cell division. In short… the SV40 sequence had become carcinogenic.”

The air in the room seemed to freeze.

Takizawa slumped in his chair, his gaze fixed on the floor. “If this is what’s happening inside the actual patients… we have committed a terrible, terrible mistake. It is entirely my fault.” His voice was laced with self-reproach, cracking under the weight of his guilt.

Mishima’s response was immediate and sharp. “That’s not true, Dr. Takizawa.”

Mishima leaned forward, his voice ringing with conviction. “If they had allowed you to re-run the tests after the blackout, as you strongly insisted, none of this would have happened. You warned them about the danger all along. It was Kaneda and Development Chief Washio who ignored your warnings and buried the evidence. The responsibility does not lie with you.”

“What matters now is uncovering the truth. And deciding how we move forward to stop any further damage. The fact that we have someone as committed and honest as you gives me hope.”

Takizawa slowly raised his head, meeting Mishima’s unwavering gaze. A flicker of light returned to his eyes. A quiet, shared resolve settled between the two men.

The Frozen Biopsies

Takizawa took a deep breath, his look now intense.

“Dr. Mishima… I was informed that the excised tumor tissues from the three patients at St. Louis International who developed malignant tumors—Patients P, Q, and R—are still stored here. Is that correct?”

Mishima nodded. “Yes. All of them are preserved as frozen biopsies. They are under strict security in the Pathology Department.”

Takizawa nodded deeply, his lips drawn into a thin line. “As a matter of my own responsibility, I must examine those frozen samples. My recent finding was based on cultured cells in a test tube. We need to confirm whether the SV40 sequence is actually expressing itself in the patients’ living tissue. If our fears are correct, this nightmare is far from over.”

Mishima recognized the determination but pressed a warning. “But Dr. Takizawa, this investigation must be conducted in absolute secrecy. Kaneda and the Chief of Development cannot know about this. It is too dangerous.”

“Of course,” Takizawa agreed. “If they catch wind of our actions, the evidence itself might be destroyed. We must move with the utmost caution, ensuring no leaks.”

After a moment of careful thought, Mishima replied, “I believe we should proceed with this matter only between the three of us, after consulting with Dr. Asakura. He shares our commitment.”

Takizawa nodded firmly, putting emphasis into his words. “Understood. Get Dr. Asakura’s judgment. As soon as you have a plan, we will execute it, under the strictest secrecy. We are in a race against time now.”

A silent, unshakeable determination filled the room. In the eyes of the two men seeking the truth, there was no longer any doubt.

---

An Apartment Room

The outside world was fading, and the room was lit only by the faint glow of a bedside lamp. The weak light fell softly across Asakura’s closed eyelids.

Too bright... Where am I?

The moment he tried to open his eyes, a piercing pain shot through his temples. A dull, unpleasant throbbing resonated deep in his head.

“...Where… is this…?” His voice was a rasp. His throat was painfully dry, making every word a struggle.

Slowly, he pushed himself up and took in his surroundings, completely stunned.

An unfamiliar place. A vast, king-sized bed.

He was lying on it, mostly naked. The sheets were disheveled. The room was empty. His shirt, trousers, watch, and even his smartphone were scattered carelessly on the floor.

What happened? His head was heavy, his thoughts still lost in a deep fog.

Yet, one thing registered clearly—

Something is wrong. No, this is dangerous.

His instinct screamed a desperate warning.

Asakura placed his hands on the edge of the bed and stood up, steadying his reeling body. With trembling fingers, he retrieved his shirt and pulled on his trousers. He struggled to dress, cold sweat beading on his forehead.

I’ve been set up. He was certain of it.

Then—

Click.

The sound of a key turning came from the front door. Asakura instantly braced himself.

The door slowly opened, and a tall man in a dark jacket entered, accompanied by a young woman. The man had a cold, blank face and a piercing stare. Asakura didn't recognize him—but it was Z, one of Washio’s known operatives.

“...Where am I? Why am I here?” Asakura desperately demanded.

Z’s mouth curled into a faint, sinister smile as he stepped into the room. “Doctor, it looks like you had… a very enjoyable time last night.”

The words deepened Asakura's confusion. “Where is this! What exactly happened!”

The man ignored the question, his voice dropping to a low menace. “We have a problem, you see. It seems you assaulted this woman in this room last night.”

“...W-What are you talking about…!”

Z silently reached into his jacket, pulled out several photos, and scattered them on the bed. The blood drained from Asakura’s face as he looked at them.

• A young woman weeping hysterically.

• Her face and arms covered in bruises.

• The woman lying collapsed by the bed, with a partial view of his own arm and back clearly visible.

“...This is… a lie…! I have absolutely no recollection of this…!” His voice shook and failed.

But Z calmly stated, “Yet, she is ready to testify. A lack of memory is not proof of innocence.”

The woman wore heavy makeup, a pink blouse, and a short skirt, giving her a cheaply commercial appearance.

The man continued, his tone colder than ice. “What would happen if these photos and her testimony were to appear in a weekly magazine? If she goes to the police—your career as a doctor will be certainly over. And your family will suffer the consequences.”

Asakura tried to speak, but no words came out. It must be AI-generated, fake photos, he thought frantically.

He stared at the man, his eyes a mix of despair and confusion. “...What… is your objective…?”

The man shrugged slightly, a thin smile touching his lips.

“The three frozen biopsies from the LX-301 trial patients—P, Q, and R—stored at the St. Louis International Hospital. We want you to retrieve them and hand them over to me.”

The air in the room suddenly turned arctic.

Asakura slumped onto the edge of the bed, his head bowed. His hands were tightly clasped on his knees.

The man pressed his advantage. “The task is simple. Go to the hospital, walk into the Pathology freezer, and retrieve the three samples. You have the access, the key, and no one will suspect you. You are the only one who can do it.”

Asakura’s lips trembled, but he offered no resistance.

Z pulled out his smartphone and displayed the screen. “The data on this phone, and the woman’s testimony, have already been pitched to the evening papers. One call from me, and it goes public immediately.”

He added one final, chilling statement.

“By the way, we’ve installed a GPS tracker on your smartphone. We know where you are and what you’re doing at all times. So, don’t try anything foolish.”

A wave of nausea washed over Asakura’s neck. He remained motionless, his head still bowed, watching everything slip through his grasp.

Z turned on his heel, leaving one last parting shot.

“Get moving, Doctor. Time is short.”