Chapter 402

The elevator doors slid shut.

Evelyn Langley stared at the flickering floor numbers, suddenly realizing something—she hadn't run into Adrian Klein in the elevator for a long time.

At this hour, she used to always see him in workout clothes, ready for his evening jog. Sometimes they'd brush past each other; other times, they'd walk together for a stretch.

But for the past two weeks, the door next to hers had been eerily silent, as if no one lived there.

She pulled out her phone and opened her chat with Adrian. The last message, sent ten days ago, was her asking about some lab data. It remained unread.

"Must be busy with his project," Evelyn murmured to herself.

At 8:15 PM, the library's closing melody played. Evelyn packed her bag and walked home under the cool night breeze.

Just as she reached her building, a familiar figure dashed past her.

"Profes—"

Before she could finish, the figure vanished around the corner. The jogger didn't even glance back, as if he hadn't heard her at all.

Evelyn stood frozen, staring at the empty street.

This wasn't right.

She hurried home and changed into workout gear. If Adrian was jogging, she could catch up.

More importantly, she desperately needed a CPRT analyzer. Professor Eleanor Roland's condition had been unstable lately, and she didn't want to bother her. As for Ethan Winston...

Evelyn's fingers paused on her shoelaces at the thought of that man's knowing smile.

Adrian's help, in contrast, always came at just the right moment—never burdensome.

The campus at night was unusually quiet. Evelyn searched their usual jogging route three times but found no trace of Adrian.

By the time she got home, it was 9:30. She left the door slightly ajar, prepping breakfast for the next day while listening for any movement in the hallway.

Yam slices fell neatly under her knife; millet swirled in clear water. Even as the clay pot began to simmer, the corridor outside remained silent.

"Professor Klein?" She knocked on his door. "Are you there?"

No answer.

Meanwhile, the biology lab blazed with light.

Vincent Macmillan nearly dropped his test tube when Adrian suddenly reappeared. "I thought you went home to sleep?"

"Last-minute data to process." Adrian didn't look up.

"You call working 72 hours straight 'last-minute'?" Vincent snatched the pipette from his hand. "Out with it—who are you avoiding?"

Adrian's hands froze imperceptibly.

The motion-sensor lights in the hallway flickered off, plunging his expression into darkness.