June 16, 1976, around 9:00 a.m.
The atmosphere changed completely once I crossed into the laboratory sector.
Unlike the mansion, which at least still had a trace of human warmth, all that existed here was the acrid smell of chemicals, the cold fluorescent lights with no hint of humanity, and concrete walls.
The researchers in the hallway were the same.
They would only dip their heads briefly as they passed, never meeting anyone’s eyes.
It was truly a space that made it impossible to grow attached to.
When I opened the lab door, the chief researcher, Alloy, stood up from his seat.
He was in his early forties, with a sturdy build, short brown hair neatly trimmed, and a forehead that had started to recede slightly.
He was quiet and rarely showed any expression, but his eyes changed the moment he held a report.
"Director, today’s schedule includes reviewing the proliferation results of the [Progenitor Virus] culture samples this morning, and this afternoon a report on RNA mutation structure analysis is planned."
"Understood."
I took the report Alloy handed me.
The [Progenitor Virus]—it was the name I had seen in the raw data work last night.
It was a name I had heard plenty of times, but this was my first time facing it directly.
As I skimmed it, the pages were packed with figures.
“Ugh... what the hell is all this supposed to mean...”
At least my background in biotechnology let me grasp the rough context.
The problem was the molecular structural formulas for the virus listed here.
For a fictional virus that didn’t even exist in reality, why was everything so detailed and so complicated...
“In the game, they just wrapped it up in a few lines of explanation, so why is the real thing such a goddamn mess?”
I felt wronged, but what could I do? I wasn’t just some researcher now—I was the director of this lab.
I turned the pages while doing my best to understand as much as I could within the limits of what I knew.
"The culture rate is higher than predicted."
As I read aloud the note in the report’s margin, Alloy looked at me over his glasses.
"Yes, it’s 12 percent above the estimate. We’re analyzing the cause."
"Check the mutation rate as well. If the culture rate is faster, the mutation pattern could change too."
Alloy paused for a moment.
"...I’ll look into it."
His reaction made me tense up as well.
“What? Did I say something wrong?”
But Alloy said nothing more and returned to his seat.
His expression was no different from usual.
Was he just surprised, or was that simply how he always reacted...
I decided to let it go for now.
If I paid too much attention to Alloy’s reaction, that might look even stranger.
I pretended not to care and opened the next report.
To be honest, I didn’t fully understand where these research projects were headed.
At best, I had only skimmed Alexander’s research notes and raw data.
So my rule when dealing with them was simple: don’t show what you don’t know, act like you know something, but don’t say anything wrong.
As the final decision-maker, reviewing reports, answering researchers’ questions from time to time, and only offering opinions when necessary was probably the safest approach.
Still, I couldn’t talk too much, and I couldn’t talk too little either, so I had to walk that line carefully.
Keeping that boundary on a knife’s edge, I kept turning pages.
After a few more pages, a molecular structural diagram inserted as reference material caught my eye.
At that moment, my hand stopped before I turned the page.
“This... looks familiar.”
I held the report up and narrowed my eyes.
Where had I seen it? I definitely had.
I started digging through the pile of memories in my head, staring at the image with its familiar silhouette.
Alexander’s materials? Then maybe it had been raw data?
“Ah.”
In an instant, it came back to me with a short gasp.
Last night’s dream.
The scene where the lecture hall screen had slowly changed, and a molecular arrangement I had never seen before had started to intrude.
The strange structural formula that had flickered across the screen then was exactly the one in this report now.
I had thought it made no sense because it was just a dream... but maybe the dream had been showing me the future?
Even as I thought that, the uneasy feeling in my chest would not go away.
I stared at the structure for a moment before lowering my gaze back to the report.
Turning the page, I found an entry on the characteristics of the [Progenitor Virus].
[Host cell infection range: can infect the cells of all living organisms, including animals, fungi, plants, and bacteria. Unlike existing retroviruses, it is not limited to a specific physiology.]
“All living cells... is that really even possible?”
I couldn’t help being drawn in by that horrifying description.
Ordinary viruses target only specific cells in specific animals.
Of course, through mutation they can spread to various animals, but even that is only within a limited range.
For example, rabies can spread among many mammals, but it does not affect birds.
Conversely, avian influenza can infect birds and other mammals, including humans, but not other vertebrates like insects or fish.
But the [Progenitor Virus] had no such barrier.
Whether animal or plant, even fungi and bacteria, all of them could be affected by this virus.
Of course, in the game all kinds of organisms were infected and turned into monsters, so it wasn’t exactly shocking... but seeing the specific infection mechanism laid out in front of me made it impossible not to react.
“A virus like this actually exists in nature. What a completely insane world.”
In reality, this was close to impossible.
But right in front of me, that impossibility was written down as data.
And my conclusion was: even for a game, this is way too much.
If I had discovered something like this in real life, maybe I would have found it fascinating... but with something this terrifying in the hands of these psychos, how could I not be even more uneasy?
It was basically like handing a pistol to a thug.
Suppressing a sigh of frustration, I turned the page and found another line that made my fingertips stop again.
[Cell lysis reversal experiment results: after introducing the virus into mouse cells lysed by exposure to 0.1 ppm chlorine, membrane restoration and nuclear genome mutation confirmed. Cell division resumed.]
Put simply, this meant dead cells were revived by the virus and began dividing again.
And there was only one thing this setup meant.
This regenerative ability was the root cause behind the creation of zombies and every other monster.
I closed the report and shut my eyes for a moment.
This research facility was where it all began.
From me becoming the children’s test subject in the short term, to the seeds of the Raccoon City incident decades later in the long term—this was what they were handling here.
I knew that. Of course I knew it in my head.
But seeing it laid out in data, in numbers, in experimental results, felt different.
Did those researchers know how many people this would eventually kill?
Of course they didn’t. That was why they could write these reports so calmly and show them to me.
And the original Alexander had probably been the same kind of person.
"Director?"
Alloy’s voice snapped me back to my senses.
"Yes, go on."
Alloy looked at me for a moment, then pointed to a section of the report.
"This is the current RNA mutation pattern of the [Progenitor Virus] sample. In third-generation culture, the mutation rate is accelerating beyond prediction."
"What’s causing the acceleration?"
"We’re still analyzing that. However, the binding method with host cells is showing a major deviation from the existing data, so further review is necessary."
I looked at the part Alloy was pointing to.
“The binding method with host cells has changed.”
It was a familiar context.
In the game’s setting, the [Progenitor Virus] gradually mutated in a direction that made it increasingly dependent on its host.
To put it simply, this virus had the ability to completely alter the host’s genes in order to survive inside that body.
The problem was... naturally, ordinary organisms die when their genes suddenly change.
And if the host dies, the virus that depended on it dies too.
That was why Umbrella was researching ways to infect hosts with the [Progenitor Virus] as stably as possible without affecting them too much.
"Have you compared this mutation pattern with the previous generation’s data?"
One of the researchers shuffled through the materials.
"The RNA sequence match rate compared to the first generation is 94.3 percent. In the remaining 5.7 percent, new binding patterns have been confirmed."
"Then that 5.7 percent must be the key."
Alloy looked at me briefly.
"...Yes."
That reaction again, unsettling as ever.
I didn’t know whether I had said something especially sharp or just something obvious, but that look alone put a considerable weight on me.
To avoid arousing suspicion, I asked questions as naturally as possible within my knowledge, and when I didn’t know something, I would nod or brush it off with answers like "go on."
"If this mutation pattern continues, we may need cross-analysis with the headquarters [T series project]."
The [T series project] meant the T-Virus.
I didn’t change my expression.
“The T-Virus. So it’s finally come up.”
Inside Umbrella, T-Virus research was a fiercely competitive field.
If I remembered correctly, the research teams at headquarters were already fighting for control with their own data in hand.
And at the center of that struggle was Umbrella’s chairman, a man named Oswell E. Spencer.
The moment this Antarctic branch’s data flowed over there, headquarters—meaning Spencer’s interference—would deepen.
That couldn’t happen. I was already overwhelmed just dealing with the raw data submission. If that crazy old bastard got more involved, everything would become dangerous.
"If we cross-analyze with headquarters, that means we’d have to hand over our data."
"Yes, that’s correct."
"There’s no need to hand over data that hasn’t even finished analysis yet. The raw material submission alone is enough for now. Let’s decide after our own analysis results come in."
Alloy gave a short nod.
I quietly steadied my breathing inside.
I had to understand all of this lab’s data first.
I didn’t exactly welcome rubbing shoulders with the researchers here, but knowing everything that happened in this place was the first step toward preventing the ruin that would come later.
Fortunately, I already knew a great deal of what was going to happen.
Not just the game’s setting, but also future events grounded in reality.
I still didn’t know whether that was a curse or a blessing... but I had to use everything I could use right now.
Then the door opened, and a familiar face appeared.
It was Dr. Ross.
Unlike last time, he wasn’t bringing a group of researchers with him; this time he had only one assistant.
"Sorry to interrupt during the meeting, Director."
"What is it?"
"I’d like to request the daily status check on the children."
For a moment, all eyes in the room turned to me.
Everyone was watching and listening. If I refused here, that would look strange instead.
"Very well. Let’s end the report here."
I heard Alloy and the researchers shuffling their materials behind me.
As we stepped into the hallway, Dr. Ross walked beside me.
"How are the children doing?"
"They’re recovering."
"I’d like to confirm the exact figures myself."
Of course you would.
"Naturally."
Walking ahead, I quickly ran the numbers in my head.
“The discrepancy between the records and the actual temperatures is the problem... I didn’t make any obvious alterations, but if this guy notices, it’s going to be a headache.”
As we crossed into the mansion area, I slowly opened my mouth.
"Dr. Ross, let me say one thing in advance."
"Go ahead."
"The children are recovering, but they’re not fully well yet. Keep today’s check brief. The less stimulation, the better for recovery."
Dr. Ross looked at me for a moment.
"...Understood."
I had secured the pretext for now.
That meant even if he examined the children directly, he wouldn’t be able to drag it out for long.
I stood before Alfred’s door.
I knocked twice.
"Come in."
When I opened the door, Alfred was seated at his desk, writing something in a notebook.
He looked up at me and started to rise, but when he saw Dr. Ross enter behind me, his expression hardened.
Just from that expression alone, I could tell how terrifying Dr. Ross was to Alfred.
I met Alfred’s eyes.
"It’s all right. He’s just here for a status check."
Alfred looked at me for a moment, then nodded.
Dr. Ross took out a thermometer.
36.8 degrees.
Damn. That was a big difference from the 37.6 I had recorded last night.
Dr. Ross’s eyes narrowed slightly.
"There’s a discrepancy from yesterday’s record."
"The fever must have gone down. I had him rest."
"A drop of 0.8 degrees in one day is rather fast."
"You know children’s temperatures can fluctuate a lot."
Dr. Ross looked at me for a moment.
Those eyes were trying to see straight through me.
He was probably sensing that something was off.
But he had no clear grounds.
The temperature going down was proof of recovery, and he couldn’t force a full examination over that alone.
Dr. Ross took out a stethoscope and pressed it to Alfred’s chest.
"Breathing is good."
"That’s right."
As he wrote the numbers down, Dr. Ross said in a low voice,
"I’ll check Alexia as well."
"Go ahead."
Alexia’s room was the same.
When I opened the door, she was sitting at her desk, looking at Dr. Ross.
She didn’t seem surprised or tense.
She just watched him quietly.
This child wasn’t afraid of him.
Was she brave, used to him, or, as she had said before, simply surviving by keeping her head down...
Dr. Ross took out the thermometer.
36.7 degrees.
Again, it differed from yesterday’s record.
Dr. Ross’s gaze moved to the chart, then back to Alexia.
"How are you feeling today?"
Alexia glanced at me briefly, then turned her eyes back to Dr. Ross.
"I still feel a little dizzy."
Surprisingly, Alexia gave me a favorable answer.
Maybe she had already noticed something when she saw me scribbling on the record sheet yesterday.
Dr. Ross took out the stethoscope and placed it against her back.
A brief silence.
"Breathing is good."
I answered calmly.
"That’s right."
Dr. Ross closed the chart and spoke.
"Director, to be frank, both children are recovering faster than expected."
"Isn’t that a good thing?"
"Of course. But at this rate, I think we need to reconsider whether the week-long quarantine you initially mentioned is really necessary."
So that was it.
I looked at Dr. Ross for a moment.
"Reconsider?"
"Yes. If their condition is stable, it may be possible to resume examinations earlier."
This man was trying to build a pretext.
I slowly opened my mouth.
"The reason they’re recovering quickly is probably because they’ve been resting properly, even if only for a day. But as long as there’s a chance of relapse, shortening the quarantine period could affect the reliability of the data. You wouldn’t want that either, would you?"
Dr. Ross was silent for a moment.
It was logic he couldn’t refute. But it wasn’t a look of acceptance either.
"...Understood. However, since the week-long quarantine you considered seems too long, I recommend reducing it to the originally planned four days."
"I’ll give it positive consideration."
Watching Dr. Ross leave the room, I quietly steadied my breathing.
I’d gotten through the worst of it. Not as well as I wanted, maybe... but I had managed to get through it somehow.
But I also knew he hadn’t given up completely.
So I needed a countermeasure.
To prepare for the storm that was coming, and to block even a little of the syringe that would one day come for these children...
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