L*st and Death

Quest Genetic Laboratory was a private DNA analysis firm nestled deep in a high-crime zone, infamous for charging exorbitant fees to carry out illegal requests. Siron and Lewis had split up tasks with Anna and were now here to submit a DNA sample—V3011’s hair—for genetic analysis.

“This is my hair. I’d like it analyzed.”

Siron carefully took a ziplock bag from his backpack and handed it to the lab director, who examined it, comparing the strands inside to both Siron and Lewis’s hair several times before remarking:

“It’s obviously not either of yours.”

The woman, who introduced herself as the director of Quest Diagnostic Center, tapped the bag with her long fingernails and said bluntly,

“You’ve got straight black hair, and you—blond with a light wave. The strands in here are curly and brown. Not yours, right?”

Siron answered shamelessly.

“Well, if you look close, mine does have a brown tint. I’m telling you, it’s mine.”

“Then let’s just yank some fresh ones now and check. Right here.”

Caught off guard, Siron instinctively glanced at Lewis. Lewis looked equally thrown, his face a picture of surprise.

“Ugh, pretty faces—both dumb as rocks.”

“You’ll still take the request though, right? We just need a DNA profile.”

The director idly toyed with her fingernails and replied flatly.

“We don’t do anything illegal here.”

Siron didn’t blink. He answered in a calm, level tone.

“We were referred by the police.”

“And?”

There wasn’t a trace of interest or agitation in her voice.

“We really need your help. Please.”

Locking eyes with her, Siron gave her a cutesy smile. And thanks to Siron stomping lightly on Lewis’s foot for direction, Lewis joined in with a toothpaste-commercial smile of his own. The director scoffed at them both and waved her hand in the air. A subordinate quickly approached and handed her a pamphlet.

“You’re aware, right? DNA testing requires explicit consent and must follow legal procedure.”

She slid the pamphlet in front of them and tapped a line in bold text with her fingernail. Siron squinted at her as if to ask what her point was.

“So?”

“That means you’ll need to pay a little extra if you want the test without legal consent.”

Her gaze sharpened mysteriously as she smiled with quiet confidence.

“If you want results in a month, it’s $1,000. In ten days, $2,000. In three days, $7,000. It’s usually $5,000 for three days, but this time the weekend’s in the way. You understand, right?”

A price worthy of their notorious reputation. Swallowing with difficulty, Siron looked at Lewis. He’d been swept up by Anna and Lewis’s earnest drive to uncover the rot in the alpha community, but Siron’s real goal was to halt the transformation of his body into an omega—not to pursue justice.

The man called V3011, locked away inside the Hybris building and stripped of his name, was certainly a tragic case—but Siron knew his place. He wasn’t James Bond or Ethan Hunt. Neither was Lewis, nor Baekgyeong, who would soon join them. Anna was slightly better—but regardless, they were a ragtag bunch.

Still... if I happen to find out that man’s identity, maybe I could get a message to his family. Let them handle the rest. But $7,000... that’s ridiculous.

“It’s really expensive, couldn’t you maybe...”

“We’ll take the $7,000 one—”

Siron and Lewis both started speaking at once, then trailed off awkwardly as the director cut them off, eyes gleaming.

“We’ll deliver it next Monday.”

Before they could change their minds, she quickly pocketed the hair sample and handed it to the waiting lab tech. She turned fully toward Lewis—clearly the easier mark—with a sweet, innocent smile.

“We also have some optional add-ons. Interested?”

Siron leaned heavily against the side of Lewis’s car, struggling to catch his breath. The four-day sex bender had taken its toll. They’d only come down from the third floor of the building to the parking lot in front of a shopping complex, but his legs felt like jelly, as if he’d just descended a mountain. Ignoring Lewis’s attempts to help, Siron clung to the car door and muttered,

“You just accepted that so easily?”

“Sometimes spending money’s actually more economical. This is one of those times. ...Want me to help you, bébé?”

“I’m fine. I’ll do it myself.”

Opening the door, Siron grabbed the handle inside and, using every ounce of strength to avoid putting pressure on his hips and lower back, finally hoisted himself into the passenger seat. Groaning at the radiating pain in his lower body, he pulled out the pamphlet from his bag.

Redefine your history—join today!

With the Quest Diagnostic Center’s globally connected DNA database, trace your ancestors and relatives across borders. Using massive genetic datasets collected worldwide, we’ll match your DNA to global family members and explore your ancestral migration routes.

The pamphlet detailed their package offerings using DNA profiling. It was hard to believe that this shabby-looking center was truly part of a global network.

But Siron’s doubts were soon addressed. The contract included clear legal language to support it. According to the document, the DNA profile submitted by Siron and Lewis today would be entered into a data system used across related industries. Meaning: even this dingy DNA lab had access to the global DNA database.

Maybe—just maybe—they could really find that poor man’s family. It could be far more effective than relying on the police’s missing persons registry.

“Still, charging two thousand dollars just to upload one DNA profile to the system is robbery. Most places do it for like 200.”

“It is overpriced. That’s like... ten pizzas.”

Lewis didn’t seem particularly fazed, but he did show a bit of agreement at Siron’s grumble. There was a time when Siron, too, believed it was smarter to throw money at problems than waste time and effort. Now he realized he’d grown used to doing things the hard way—and felt that shift deeply.

Caught up in envy, Siron sighed, remembering the glory days that vanished like soap bubbles. By the time he came to, Lewis had parked outside the homeless support center. Anna’s white Expedition wasn’t far off; she was likely still inside, digging for information in the office.

“Here. Drink.”

Lewis, who had picked up fruit juice from a nearby café, got in and handed it over. Siron, melting under the oppressive summer heat, downed half of it in one gulp.

“God, I was dying of thirst.”

“So... wanna hit that hotel over there? Get a cold beer and—”

“Don’t get clingy.”

Siron shot down Lewis’s joke without hesitation, then picked up his phone, which had been plugged into the car charger. During the past several days locked up with Lewis in a motel—physically and emotionally tangled—his phone had been abandoned on the backseat, completely dead. Even now, charging again, he hesitated to power it on.

It had been four days since he last spoke to Baekgyeong. In the meantime, Baekgyeong had called the police station where Anna worked, asking about Siron. Even when she was out on patrol, he’d called twice more. He was making a nuisance of himself, but at least hadn’t crossed the line into full-on disgrace by showing up at the funeral.

Feeling tense, Siron finally pressed the power button. As messages poured in like a flood, he was overwhelmed. He wanted to switch the phone off again. But for Anna’s sake—so she could work in peace—he reluctantly opened the messaging app.

Once he started texting Baekgyeong, though, the tension melted. Catching up with him felt like finishing a long-delayed homework assignment. Siron smiled without realizing.

Lewis watched him with a knot of emotions. Every time a smile crept onto Siron’s lips, Lewis felt the opposite—empty and low, as if his insides had been hollowed out by hunger. He reached out and gently covered Siron’s phone with his hand.

“Stop looking at your phone.”

“Huh?”

“I’m right here.”

“...We’re not on a date, you know.”

Lewis shrugged.

“I am.”

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