[color=C13F1F][center][img]https://i.imgur.com/o8DgYOK.png[/img][h2]Mae Ah-ryeon[/h2][/center][/color]

"How's the skin tissue?" A man wearing a labcoat and gloves said.

"Still no signs of any change." A woman in similar attire replied.

"Hm. Well, ke-"

[color=C13F1F]"Yea. I'll come running down to see you if anything happens."[/color] Ah-ryeon dismissed the man's request before it was stated. It was always like this. Every week, she'd have to hole up in the research wing so they could poke and prod at her patches of colourless flesh.

It was a necessary safety precaution for someone who was anomaly-touched. Of course, the fact that her colourless scars had remained unchanging all this time had reassured the researchers. Initially, they kept her in quarantine, wore hazmat suits, and poked at her with ten foot poles. Now they wore gloves and face masks--items that Ah-ryeon had disallowed them to go without.

Their research was always inconclusive. It wasn't skin, yet it was skin. It wasn't muscle, yet it was muscle. Whatever sample they took remained unchanged as if locked in time. They weren't living cells, but they behaved exactly like them. The research team often argued about how it should be treated. Should it be a child of another anomaly? Should it be its own? Was it just a byproduct from an anomaly?

Well, Ah-ryeon never really cared for their epistemology. If she got closer to her goals, then she'd deal with being observed.