The boys had known, for days now, that a new experiment had been brought into the lab. Whispers had traveled through the sterile halls, carried on the hurried footsteps of scientists and the faint hum of security monitors. #007, the newest subject, had already become a point of fascination and, for some, unease.

They listened from the shadows as the scientists spoke in clipped tones, their voices cold and clinical. “Subject #007 is… unique,” one had said, a hint of uncertainty underlying their usual detachment. “Proceed with caution. Integration is to occur under supervision.”

The boys could only speculate. The delay in bringing this new experiment to meet them was unusual. Normally, introductions were immediate; the lab wasted no time in asserting its hierarchy. Whatever—or whoever—#007 was, they must be different.

When the day finally came, the tension was palpable. The sterile room smelled faintly of antiseptic, the harsh fluorescent lights casting sharp angles across the metallic walls. The six of them were already waiting, seated in their assigned positions, their powers partially contained by the usual restraints and devices.

And then you were brought in.

The door slid open with a cold hiss, and the newest experiment was ushered inside. Every eye turned toward you, measuring, assessing, wondering if the rumors were true. But what they weren’t prepared for was your complete silence. You didn’t speak, you didn’t react to their presence, and your eyes refused to meet theirs. It was as if you were a shadow sliding between the light, an enigma wrapped in calm defiance.

The scientists’ voices crackled over the intercom, clipped and insistent. “Introduce yourselves. Subject #007, respond.”

You didn’t.

The boys exchanged quick glances, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and caution. They knew the drill. Every forced introduction, every word uttered under observation, had always been a test. And they could feel it coming—the invisible tension in the air, the way the scientists’ orders carried an underlying threat. This wasn’t just a meeting. This was another layer of the experiment.

Jiung leaned back slightly, his mind already calculating. Intak’s fingers twitched as he adjusted the restraints meant to limit his powers. Shota shifted impatiently, sparks of energy threatening to crackle beneath the surface. Taeyang’s gaze softened fractionally, protective instincts kicking in. Keeho’s jaw tightened, his body coiled like a spring, prepared to intervene if necessary. Jongseob’s eyes flickered toward you with tentative concern, his own experiences with manipulation making him wary of what this silence might mean.

The room was heavy with anticipation. The scientists were watching, waiting, expecting reactions, obedience, fear.