He lay there for a while, staring at the ceiling, not moving.
He picked up his phone—then put it back down.
He didn’t open the transfer app.
He already knew nothing would have changed.
Two months until his visa expired.
For now, he could still hold on without saying anything.
For now.
A personal email arrived.
From: Professor Han Doyun
Let’s talk briefly after today’s lab meeting.
Polite.
Familiar.
Favez closed the email and stood up.
At the water dispenser, he filled a paper cup.
Even when it overflowed, he didn’t let go.
Someone beside him asked, “You okay?”
Favez nodded.
People left one by one.
Chairs scraped.
Files were saved.
Someone cracked a light joke.
Everything looked normal.
That’s what made it feel wrong.
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
Favez stopped in front of the professor’s office.
No one had ever told him when to knock.
“Come in.”
The hallway noise disappeared as the door closed.
The professor was sitting today.
Today, he was sitting.
“Have a seat.”
Favez perched carefully on the edge of the chair.
“So—how have you been?”
It sounded like concern.
“I’m okay.”
Not a complete lie.
He was still managing.
“You’re settling into life here?”
“The lab work isn’t too hard, is it?”
The questions were light.
No notes. No records.
That made it harder to read what he really wanted.
The professor flipped through some papers.
“Working abroad isn’t easy,” he said.
“Especially when your family is far away.”
Favez felt his shoulders tighten.
The professor pretended not to notice.
“If strange rumors start spreading, it gets exhausting for everyone.”
Still not a question.
“Especially in times like this.”
Salary.
Visa.
Family.
Hospital bills.
Nothing needed to be explained.
The professor looked up.
“Too much talking just makes things harder.”
A pause.
Then, in a voice suddenly cold:
“Especially when money’s involved.”
Favez’s hands stayed still on his knees.
The calculation was already finished.
Silence.
Favez knew what he was supposed to say.
And he knew exactly what he would lose if he said it.
So he said nothing.
He couldn’t.
The professor smiled.
It was the reaction he wanted.
“Good,” he said.
“That’s all, then.”
When the door opened, cool air from the hallway rushed back in.
Favez didn’t take the elevator.
He stopped twice on the stairs.
Not because he was out of breath.
Because his legs stopped listening to him.
Someone in the lab entered data incorrectly.
A tiny mistake.
Favez could have fixed it in seconds.
His hand moved toward the mouse—then stopped.
A moment of hesitation.
In the end, he placed his hands on the keyboard.
Back at his place, Favez didn’t turn on the lights.
He reread his mother’s message.
The hospital needs the payment by next week.
He typed a reply.
Deleted it.
Typed again. Deleted again.
Several times.
In the end, he sent nothing.
He turned off his alarm.
And wished, quietly, that morning wouldn’t come.
Silence is not the absence of trouble.
It means the cost
is already being charged.
Someone pays with fear.
Someone pays with their future—slowly, in installments.
He didn’t agree.
you already know what this chapter is about.
Was his silence survival… or the beginning of something else?