The morning sunlight pierced through the small gaps in the cheap window blinds, casting thin, bright lines across the quiet apartment.
Max rolled over on his mattress, his eyes slowly fluttering open. He took a deep breath, feeling a rare, lingering sense of peace from a deep, uninterrupted sleep. He stretched his arms high above his head, his joints popping satisfyingly in the quiet room. He brought a hand up to cover his mouth.
"AUGGGHHHHH….."
A loud, rumbling yawn escaped his chest. He blinked the sleep from his eyes and turned his head to look at the digital alarm clock sitting on his nightstand. He had intentionally set the alarm for 9:00 AM last night, hoping to give his exhausted brain a much-needed break from the constant paranoia.
The glowing red numbers currently read 7:15 AM.
Max let out a soft, genuine smile, dropping his arm back onto the mattress.
"See, this is exactly what happens if you set the alarm for 9 instead of 7 or 8," Max murmured to the empty room. "Your body actually relaxes because it knows it doesn't have to rush, and you end up waking up naturally and feeling way more rested anyway."
He lay there for a few more minutes, enjoying the quiet hum of the city waking up outside. But the discipline forged over millions of lifetimes wouldn't let him stay in bed forever. The green-eyed killer was still out there.
"Guess I need to do my morning exercise routine for a bit to get the blood flowing," Max decided, tossing the blankets aside.
He got up from his bed, his bare feet hitting the carpet. He took a moment to neatly arrange his bedsheets, a habit ingrained in him to maintain a sense of order in a chaotic world. He walked out into the living room and began to prepare his exercise equipment, unrolling his thick black mat and checking the stability of his pull-up bar.
For the next three hours, Max turned his small living room into a private, intense training ground. He pushed his human body to its absolute limits, cycling through hundreds of push-ups, rapid-fire sit-ups, and grueling sets of pull-ups. He used the physical exertion to burn away the lingering anxiety of the serial killer and the surreal reality of learning chemical warfare from the blonde woman down the hall.
By the time he was finished, his chest was heaving, and a heavy layer of sweat coated his skin. He grabbed a clean white towel from the sofa, wiped his face and neck roughly, and walked straight toward the bathroom.
He turned the shower dial all the way to cold. For twenty minutes, Max stood under the freezing spray, letting the icy water numb his sore muscles and sharpen his mind.
After stepping out and drying off, he dressed in a clean, simple black t-shirt and comfortable sweatpants. He walked back into the living area, grabbed the television remote, and turned the screen on, immediately switching over to the local morning News Channel.
He walked into the kitchen, put a kettle of water on to boil, and prepared a quick bowl of instant ramen. He grabbed a cold bottle of water from the fridge and carried his simple breakfast over to the couch.
He sat down, slurping the hot noodles while keeping his amber eyes glued to the television screen. He waited for the breaking news banner. He waited for another tragic report of a car crash, a sudden fire, or a mysterious death involving someone with amber eyes.
But the news cycle was surprisingly mundane. There were reports on local traffic, a minor political debate, and a feature on a rescued dog. There was no mention of the 'Gild Killer'.
Max sighed heavily, lowering his bowl of ramen.
"It seems that fucker can't find another amber-eyed person to target this time, huh?" Max thought aloud, his tone analytical but deeply frustrated.
He clicked his tongue in deep annoyance as he thought about the ghost in the black van. The silence was almost worse than the attacks. It meant the killer was either regrouping, changing tactics, or simply waiting in the shadows for Max to make a fatal mistake and expose himself.
"I swear to God," Max whispered to the empty room, his grip tightening on his plastic water bottle. "If you decide to come here and try to kill me directly because you can't find any more innocent decoys… I'm gonna fucking shoot you right in the head, the exact same way you did to me in the original timeline!"
He finished his meal in grim silence. He washed his bowl, turned off the television, and grabbed his keys from the kitchen counter.
He opened his front door, stepped out into the quiet hallway, and pulled the door shut behind him. He engaged the heavy deadbolt.
—CLICK!
He shoved his keys deep into his pocket and turned toward the stairwell, walking with a slow, measured pace down toward the third floor.
"It's time for another lesson, then."
***
Max reached the front of Bellatrix's apartment, Room 35. He didn't hesitate this time. He raised his hand and pressed the glowing button beside the door frame.
—DING DONG!
—DING DONG!
"Coming!" Bellatrix's voice shouted from deep inside the apartment, sounding muffled but highly energetic.
Max heard the familiar sound of the heavy locks turning.
—CREEEEAAAAKKKK!
As the wooden door slowly swung open, Max prepared to offer his usual polite smile.
"Good morning, Bell. It seems you are already fully prepared for the day, since you are in your PPE already," Max greeted her, his amber eyes scanning her attire.
He was right. She wasn't wearing her usual casual clothes or her signature white laboratory coat. Instead, Bellatrix was fully suited up in heavy-duty Personal Protective Equipment. She wore a thick, chemical-resistant apron over a high-necked long-sleeve shirt, heavy rubber gloves that reached up past her elbows, and her large, protective safety goggles were already resting securely over her gray eyes.
"Good morning, Max!" Bellatrix greeted him enthusiastically, her voice slightly muffled by a secondary respirator mask hanging loosely around her neck. "You seem a bit early today! And yeah, I just decided to wear this early since I was already busy preparing everything for our class inside the lab room."
She smiled brightly, her eyes crinkling at the corners behind the clear plastic of her goggles, and gestured for him to come inside. She led Max down the short hallway and straight into the massive, sterile laboratory.
As Max entered the room, the sharp smell of cleaning agents hit his nose. He looked over at the secondary workbench near the door and saw a neat pile of heavy rubber and plastic waiting for him.
"You also prepared mine in advance. Thanks, Bell," Max said, walking over to inspect the thick gloves and the heavy apron.
"You're very welcome~!" Bellatrix replied in a sing-song voice. She practically skipped over to the main fume hood, adjusting the ventilation dials. She seemed to be in an incredibly good mood, even more energetic than usual.
Max watched her bounce slightly on her heels. He questioned the situation inwardly.
'What did she eat for breakfast today?' Max thought, raising an eyebrow. 'I mean, I know she's always in a generally good mood, and her emotions shift rapidly sometimes, but it seems like she's way more happy and hyperactive than usual today. Especially considering we are about to synthesize lethal weapons.'
Max didn't comment on it. He simply spent the next five minutes silently and methodically wearing his PPE. He strapped the heavy apron around his waist, secured the thick rubber gloves over his hands, and pulled the safety goggles down over his amber eyes, ensuring a tight seal.
As he finished adjusting the straps, Bellatrix turned around, leaning her hips against the main workbench.
"So…" Bellatrix started, tapping her gloved fingers against the epoxy resin.
"…What exactly did you want to learn how to make today?"
Max didn't have to think about it. He had analyzed her list all night.
"Hmm. The Ricin Bomb," Max said firmly. "I want to focus on a solid explosive dispersal weapon this time."
Bellatrix's gray eyes sparkled behind her goggles. She clapped her heavy rubber hands together.
"Great choice!" Bellatrix cheered, clearly excited by the chemistry involved. "Since I already have the raw castor beans properly stored, it works out perfectly. And the best part is, it doesn't even have an overly complex, highly volatile chemical extraction process like the nerve gases! It's honestly more like following a highly dangerous, precise kitchen recipe!"
She walked over to a locked cabinet and began pulling out the necessary glassware.
"And lastly, it primarily only uses basic foundational techniques like advanced filtration and liquid precipitation," Bellatrix continued, placing the beakers onto the table. "Of course, don't worry, I'll teach you exactly how to do this flawlessly, since mastering these steps is the basic of basics for any real chemist. And also, please note a severe warning: extracting the final white powder might look harmless and boring, but it is incredibly deadly. Even a microscopic amount is fatal."
"Really? Even just breathing near it?" Max asked, wanting to confirm the exact threat level.
Bellatrix nodded her head gravely, her cheerful demeanor dropping for a split second.
"Yes. Highly deadly," Bellatrix confirmed. "So, you should not inhale deeply or carelessly remove your mask no matter what happens, even though you have your PPE securely on. One mistake with the airborne powder, and it's over."
Max nodded his head slowly, fully respecting the danger of the materials. He offered a confident smile from behind his mask.
"Noted. I got it. Then I'll be in your care today, Teacher Bell."
Bellatrix smiled warmly at his respectful response, clearly enjoying the dynamic of being in charge of the legendary hitman.
For the next several grueling hours, the laboratory was filled with intense, silent focus. They spent their time meticulously working through the complex, multi-stage process of creating the lethal payload for the bomb.
It was an agonizingly slow and highly frustrating process. It required grinding organic matter into an impossibly fine dust, dissolving it into harsh, eye-watering solvents, and standing motionless for long stretches of time waiting for specific chemical precipitations to occur.
Of course, Max failed the delicate process.
His first attempt was ruined during the initial solvent mixture. He added the acidic water a fraction of a second too fast, causing the mixture to cloud irreversibly and destroying the fragile protein chains they needed to isolate. Bellatrix had to quickly neutralize the batch and throw it into the hazardous waste bin.
His second attempt failed during the final drying phase. He misjudged the airflow within the fume hood, causing a tiny speck of ambient contamination to enter the pure precipitate, rendering it tactically useless.
But Max didn't complain. He just gritted his teeth, wiped the sweat pooling under his heavy goggles, and started completely over from step one.
Finally, on his third agonizing attempt, the process held. He followed every single one of Bellatrix's sharp commands perfectly. He managed the temperatures, filtered the liquid with the steady hands of a sniper, and successfully dried the final, terrifyingly pure white powder inside the safety of the sealed fume hood.
He had finally made his own highly lethal ricin payload.
"Finally! Hooohh…."
Max let out a massive, heavy sigh of relief. He took a long step back from the fume hood, dropping his arms to his sides as he looked through the thick safety glass at his finest, deadliest creation of the day.
Bellatrix stripped off her heavy outer gloves and clapped her hands together in loud, echoing congratulation.
"Congrats on your second major success, Max!" Bellatrix cheered, genuinely impressed. She walked over and looked at the pure white powder. "Seriously, are you secretly really talented when it comes to theoretical chemistry? Like, how can you successfully execute a highly complex, multi-stage extraction like this on only your third try? Most beginners take weeks to get this right without ruining the yield!"
Max shrugged his heavy shoulders, feeling the exhaustion deep in his muscles.
"I don't really know," Max replied honestly. "I honestly used to get incredibly low grades in my Chemistry classes back in the day."
Bellatrix widened her gray eyes in shock. She turned to look at him, baffled.
"Re—really?! How could you possibly do this high-level extraction today, then, if you actually failed basic high school chemistry?"
Max let out a dry chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck over the heavy collar of his PPE.
"Well, I guess the main reason for my low grades back then was simply because I always used to sleep in the back of the classroom," Max admitted with a heavy sigh. "I never paid attention to the teacher. I found it boring."
Bellatrix let out a long, dramatic sigh. She reached up and pinched the bridge of her nose, right between her goggles.
"Ahh, no wonder…" Bellatrix mumbled, shaking her head.
"…You are exactly one of those incredibly lazy, naturally gifted delinquents, aren't you?"
Max nodded his head, letting out a loud laugh at her calling him a "delinquent." It was a funny word to describe a former Dark Lord.
"Yeah, I guess you could definitely call me a delinquent," Max agreed, smiling behind his mask.
"Sigh. Tell me again why you suddenly want to take this highly advanced class now?" Bellatrix complained, crossing her arms. She felt a brief flash of genuine, academic insult. It frustrated her that a guy who was naturally talented and possessed such a fast, adaptive learning speed was so lazy as a teenager. Unlike him, even though she was considered a genuine genius in chemistry, she had to study for thousands of hours to perfect her craft. She wasn't just naturally adaptive like he was when it came to physical execution.
"To kill the stalker who wants to kill me?" Max replied smoothly, offering a casual shrug and a dark smile. "Motivation is a hell of a teacher."
Bellatrix just closed her mouth and gathered herself. There was absolutely no point in arguing with his logic. What he said was the cold, hard truth; he took this dangerous class purely to survive a serial killer.
"Whatever," Bellatrix huffed, turning away from the fume hood. "Also, can you please help me clean up this massive mess we made?"
Max nodded instantly. "Sure. Don't even bother helping me with the heavy lifting. You sit down. I can do all of this cleanup alone."
Bellatrix scoffed lightly, though a small smile touched her lips. "Whatever you say, you're the boss."
Max raised an eyebrow behind his goggles as he watched her walk over to her stool.
'Does she actually have undiagnosed bipolar disorder or something?' Max questioned inwardly, genuinely confused by her rapid mood swings. 'Seriously, she gets more incredibly confusing day by day. The more I get to know her, the less I understand her, for God's sake.'
Max just shook his head to clear his thoughts and focused entirely on starting to clean the large laboratory room.
He spent the next thirty minutes in a state of zen-like focus. He meticulously cleaned the hazardous lab room, neutralizing the failed batches, sterilizing the glass beakers, and performing his usual, rigorous 6S methodology to ensure the workspace was left immaculate and safe.
As Max was finishing up wiping down the main epoxy counter, the quiet of the lab was broken by a soft, rhythmic sound.
Swish. Swish. Swish.
Max paused his wiping and looked over his shoulder.
Bellatrix was sitting on her metal stool. Both of her legs were tightly pressed together, shifting back and forth rapidly, creating the soft swishing sound against the fabric of her pants. She was hunched over slightly, firmly clutching her lower stomach with both of her hands. Her breathing was shallow and uneven.
Max frowned, his protective instincts instantly flaring up. He dropped the cleaning rag.
"I—is there anything wrong, Bell?" Max asked, taking a step toward her, his voice laced with genuine concern. "Are you feeling sick from the fumes? If you want, I can immediately call 911 if you are having a severe problem with your stomach or your body. Let's go outside and have a medical check-up right now if you need it."
Bellatrix widened her gray eyes in absolute horror. She hadn't realized he was already completely done cleaning.
She instantly stopped swishing both her legs together and shot up from the stool. She waved her hands frantically in the air, her face turning a violent shade of red.
"Ahh! Nein! Nein! Nein! There is absolutely nothing wrong with me!" Bellatrix shouted in rapid, panicked German and English.
She marched toward him, her hands raised defensively.
"And also, can you please just get out of here already?!" Bellatrix demanded, her voice an octave too high.
Max took a step back, completely bewildered by her sudden hostility.
"He—hey, wait a second! I didn't even take off my heavy PPE yet! Wait—!"
Bellatrix didn't listen. She practically tackled him. She placed both of her hands squarely on the center of his heavy rubber apron and shoved his muscular body hard toward the exit of the lab room. With surprising strength fueled by pure panic, she pushed him across the threshold and into the hallway.
She grabbed the heavy door handle and slammed the door shut right in his face.
—BANG!
The reinforced door echoed loudly in the small apartment.
Inside the quiet laboratory, Bellatrix stood frozen, staring at the closed door. She let out a sharp, horrified gasp as she realized exactly what she had just done.
'Wha—what have I done?! Why did I just forcefully push him outside like a maniac?!' her internal voice shrieked in terror.
She reached up with both hands and viciously pulled at her blonde hair, screaming inwardly at her own lack of control.
'LAUREN, YOU SLUTTY FOOL!!!'
She leaned her forehead against the cold metal of the door, her entire body trembling. She had been sitting there watching him sweat, watching his muscles flex as he cleaned the room for her, and her libido had completely hijacked her brain. She hadn't been sick. She had been incredibly, painfully aroused, and she had panicked when he noticed her squirming.
'ARRGGGGHHH!!! GODDAMNIT, I CAN'T TAKE THIS ANYMORE!'
She couldn't keep doing this. The tension was destroying her focus. She made a sudden, highly reckless decision.
She reached out, grabbed the handle, and threw the laboratory door open.
Max was standing right there in the hallway. He was currently in the middle of struggling to pull the heavy rubber apron over his head, his face slick with sweat from the heat of the gear.
Bellatrix widened her eyes, staring at the sweat dripping down his strong neck. She swallowed hard and forcefully shifted her head downward, staring intensely at the floorboards to gather her courage.
Max managed to pull the apron off, dropping it onto the floor with a heavy sigh.
"Finally," Max grumbled, running a hand through his damp amber hair. "After three solid minutes of me getting forcefully pushed out of that room for no apparent reason, you finally open the door. You know, that was incredibly rude, Bell."
Bellatrix completely ignored his complaint. She kept her eyes glued to the floor, her chest heaving with rapid breaths.
Max noticed her strange silence. He stopped wiping his face and took a cautious step toward her.
"Ahh… is there really anything wrong, Bell?" Max asked softly, his tone shifting back to genuine concern. "Are you sure you're okay?"
Bellatrix didn't answer. Instead, she lunged forward.
She reached out and grabbed his right hand. She held his hand incredibly tightly, her fingers digging into his skin.
Max widened his amber eyes in sheer shock.
'Ho—how strong is her grip right now?!' Max thought inwardly, his assassin instincts flaring at the sudden physical restraint. 'Also, what the actual fuck is happening right now?!'
Bellatrix slowly raised her head. She looked directly into his amber eyes. The nervous, awkward scientist was gone. She couldn't resist her overwhelming urges anymore. The dam had completely broken.
She looked at his eyes with absolute, unyielding determination, her gray eyes burning with a dark, intense fire.
She took a breath and delivered her demand.
"Let's have sex."
The words hit the air like a physical blow.
Max widened his eyes to an impossible degree. His breath completely stopped in his throat. His highly trained, tactical brain completely short-circuited as he heard what she just said.
"Co—come again?" Max stammered, his voice cracking horribly. "What… what did you just say to me?"
Bellatrix didn't back down. She gripped his hand even tighter, her nails biting painfully into his palm.
"Ow—ow! You're actually hurting me, Bell! Stop this before I actually get mad!" Max warned, trying to pull his hand back, though he was careful not to use his lethal strength against her.
Bellatrix ignored his warning completely. She took a step closer, entirely invading his personal space, and raised her voice.
"I SAID…"
She glared up at him, her face flushed red with absolute determination.
"…LET'S HAVE SEX!"
Time came to an abrupt, screeching halt. The hallway was dead silent.
Max blinked his eyes repeatedly, staring down at her. He was in deep, profound shock. He had faced down armies, demons, and federal agents, but nothing had prepared him for the sheer, blunt audacity of a horny chemist demanding intimacy in the middle of the hallway. He literally didn't know how to respond.
Then, a sudden, sharp sound shattered the thick tension.
—DING DONG!
—DING DONG!
The doorbell of Bellatrix's apartment rang loudly.
"Bell, my favorite niece~!" a cheerful, familiar voice called out from the other side of the heavy front door. "Can I come inside right now? It's your scheduled room inspection today!"
It was Irmela.
Max let out a massive, shuddering sigh of relief as Irmela's voice echoed through the apartment.
'God is actually still on my side!' Max yelled inwardly, praising the heavens. 'Thank you so much, Lady Irmela! You literally just saved me from the most awkward situation of my entire life!'
Bellatrix froze. The intense fire in her eyes vanished, instantly replaced by a look of sheer, exhausted frustration. She let out a long, heavy sigh, her shoulders dropping in defeat. She slowly released her iron grip on his hand.
She looked up at him, her expression a mix of annoyance and lingering desire. She leaned forward, closing the distance until her lips were hovering right next to his ear.
"Let's talk about this specific matter later," Bellatrix whispered, her voice sending a sudden shiver down his spine. "For now, you are saved by the bell, and you can go out."
Max repeatedly and rapidly nodded his head up and down. He didn't say a single word. He just turned around and hurriedly speed-walked toward the front door, desperate to escape the suffocating tension of the hallway.
He unlocked the deadbolts, pulled the door open, and practically sprinted out into the main corridor.
Lady Irmela, standing in the hallway holding her inspection clipboard, raised her hand and waved cheerfully as she saw Max hurriedly rushing out of her niece's room.
"Hello there, Max! Hey, wait a minute—!"
Max didn't stop. He offered a frantic wave over his shoulder and disappeared down the corridor, heading straight for the safety of the stairwell.
Irmela lowered her hand, letting out a soft, amused sigh.
"Sigh. Kids these days," Irmela muttered to herself, shaking her head. "They are always in such a terrible hurry to get everywhere."
She turned her attention back to the open doorway. She looked at Bellatrix, who was standing there with a highly flushed face and a very annoyed expression.
"Hey, Lauren," Irmela asked, raising an eyebrow at her niece's messy appearance. "Why was Max inside your apartment? Also, why was he in such a desperate hurry to leave?"
Bellatrix took a deep breath, rapidly gathering her scattered composure. She forced a polite, innocent smile onto her face and replied smoothly.
"Oh, it's nothing serious, Auntie," Bellatrix lied effortlessly. "It's just that he suddenly remembered he was in a hurry for an appointment. And also…"
She needed a solid excuse for why they were hanging out so much.
"…He actually asked me to teach him how to learn some basic chemistry! He told me he took a deep interest in it recently and really wants to become a scientist too!" Bellatrix said cheerfully.
Of course, she lied through her teeth. She couldn't exactly tell her sweet auntie the dark truth: that he was taking her class to learn how to build chemical weapons to murder a serial killer, and that she was currently trying to seduce him in the hallway.
Irmela slowly nodded her head, accepting the logical excuse.
"I see, I see. That's very nice of you to tutor him," Irmela responded warmly. She tapped her pen against the clipboard. "So… should we officially start the room inspection now?"
Bellatrix nodded her head, moving aside to let her aunt enter.
"Yeah, sure, Auntie. Just give me a second. I just need to go change my clothes really quickly."
She then let Irmela walk into the living room to start her routine inspection.
Bellatrix marched toward the bathroom, clicking her tongue loudly in deep annoyance as she picked up Max's discarded PPE from the floor. She threw his gear and her own protective clothing into the separate hazardous laundry basket.
She stood in the bathroom, staring at her flushed reflection in the mirror. She was incredibly annoyed. She had finally gathered the courage to make her move, and she was interrupted by her oblivious aunt. And to make matters worse, her body was still thrumming with intense, unresolved arousal. She was so wet right now it was incredibly uncomfortable.
She gripped the edges of the sink, a dark, determined smile slowly spreading across her face.
'Next time, I'll definitely get you…'
Her gray eyes flashed with the same unyielding determination she applied to her scientific theories.
'…That's right. Next time, I will definitely get you, Max.' she promised herself inwardly, already planning her next move.