When Love is a Question Mark
Chapter 268: Test Subjects

Chapter 268: Test Subjects

FLASHBACK: The Night After Their First Encounter with James.

The dim light of the streetlamp flickered above Samuel and Timmy as they stood across from the run-down apartment building. Hours of investigation had finally paid off. They had uncovered a clue—a man who looked exactly like James, someone who might hold the key to the mystery. But now, as Samuel adjusted his jacket, the air seemed heavier, as if the weight of the situation was pressing down on him.

"Sir, we’re close," Timmy murmured, his eyes scanning the alley ahead. "The address we got points to this building. If he’s here, we might finally get some answers."

Samuel nodded, the tension in his body palpable. "Let’s get this over with," he said, his voice low. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but he knew one thing for certain: the closer they got, the more dangerous this was becoming.

As they neared the building, they caught sight of a figure in the distance—just a glimpse at first, but it was enough to make Samuel’s heart race. The man, looking much like James, was walking briskly, his posture rigid. But something about the way he moved—hurried, frantic—was off.

"Is that him?" Timmy asked, his voice urgent.

Samuel squinted, then nodded. "That’s him."

But before they could approach, a group of men appeared from a nearby alleyway, looking rough and aggressive. They began shouting, and the man—James’s lookalike—broke into a sprint, darting away with impressive speed. Samuel and Timmy exchanged a glance.

"What the hell?" Samuel muttered. "Is he running from them?"

Timmy didn’t need to answer. He was already moving, quick on Samuel’s heels. "Let’s follow them!"

The chase was chaotic. The man, despite his frantic pace, managed to keep ahead, weaving in and out of side streets, his footfalls pounding against the pavement. Samuel and Timmy pushed through the crowded streets, trying to keep up, but soon the figures ahead of them blurred into the night, the distance between them growing.

"Dammit, we’re losing him!" Timmy shouted, frustration in his voice.

But just as the thought of giving up crossed Samuel’s mind, they heard it—a loud bang, followed by the unmistakable sound of shuffling feet. It was coming from a narrow alley just up ahead.

"Come on!" Samuel barked, adrenaline surging. Without another word, he bolted toward the sound, Timmy close behind.

They turned the corner, and the sight that greeted them sent a chill straight through Samuel’s bones.

The man was lying in the middle of the alley, blood pooling around his body. His shirt was torn, the fabric stained with crimson. Stab wounds marred his torso, and his breathing was shallow, erratic.

Samuel rushed forward, kneeling beside him, his hands trembling as he checked for signs of life. "Dammit, stay with me!" he shouted, his voice laced with panic.

Timmy was on the phone, urgently calling for an ambulance, but the man’s eyes flickered open, weakly grabbing Samuel’s arm.

"Please..." he rasped, his voice barely audible. "Don’t... take me to the hospital."

Samuel’s brow furrowed in confusion. "What? You need medical attention—"

"No," the man interrupted, his hand shaking as he pointed weakly to the distance. "Take me home. My family... needs me."

Samuel exchanged a look with Timmy, then nodded. They carefully helped the man to his feet, supporting him as they guided him to a nearby building. It was a modest home, tucked away in a quiet corner of the city.

Inside, the man collapsed onto a worn couch, his labored breathing echoing through the room. He reached over to a nearby table and grabbed a notebook, handing it to Samuel with trembling hands.

"Here," he said, his voice cracking. "I don’t have much time left... Please, you need to understand."

Samuel took the notebook, his heart heavy with a growing sense of unease. As he flipped through the pages, his eyes widened. The notebook was filled with detailed notes—everything from James’s mannerisms, the way he spoke, and how he reacted to certain situations. There were even pictures of James, back in high school, standing alongside a young Zinnia.

But what struck Samuel the most were the other pictures—pictures of Zinnia and James together, laughing, interacting, their bond evident. And there, on the same page, were more notes about Zinnia—her habits, her personality, and their history. It was clear this man had been studying them for a long time.

Samuel’s hands trembled as he turned to the next page, where he found a flash drive taped to the back. He inserted it into the laptop the man had provided, and videos began to play—footage of James and Zinnia from their school days, from school events, and other moments.

"Why..." Samuel’s voice was low, almost lost. "What is this?"

The man’s breathing became even more labored, but he managed to lift his head to look at Samuel. His eyes were filled with desperation. "You look exactly like him... You have to help me. I won’t last much longer."

Samuel leaned forward, gripping the man’s arm. "What do you mean? Who are you?"

The man’s eyes were glassy, but he forced himself to speak, his words slow and pained. "I... I’m No. 13. They... they call us test subjects. We... we were chosen because we resemble James, and they’ve been using us to act like him."

Samuel’s stomach churned, but he remained silent, waiting for the man to continue.

"We are forced to live as him," the man continued, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and anger. "We are taught to act like him, to speak like him, to be him. But if we fail... they kill us. My family... my life, all of it is controlled by them."

Samuel’s mind spun as he tried to process the magnitude of what he was hearing.

The man let out a weak cough, his hand shaking as he gripped Samuel’s arm tighter. "I know you’re not him... but you look like him. You have to pretend to be James. If I die, they’ll send another one of us to take my place... And Zinnia... she’s already caught up in it. She doesn’t know it, but I was supposed to ruin her life. To make her forget everything... about you."

Samuel’s blood ran cold. "What do you want me to do?"

"Please," the man whispered, his voice barely a breath, "save my family. Pretend to be James in my place. Do what they want. I... I can’t keep pretending anymore."