Imagine a place where time stands still, where every clock hand is frozen in an eternal moment. That is the Anomaly Point - the final frontier of reality as we know it.

The teacher's voice lowered, his eyes gazing distantly through the classroom window: "One day, you may set foot there. But remember, the moment your eyes touch that land could also be when your last breath leaves your body."

A student hesitantly asked, voice full of hope: "Teacher, what if someone is lucky enough to escape and return?"

"No one," the teacher replied, his voice heavy.

"Then... how do we know that place exists?" Another question rang out, full of doubt.

The teacher turned back, his penetrating gaze sweeping across the class: "Those brave souls leave a letter before departing. And then... they vanish, as if erased from the flow of time. Only their loved ones remain, embracing memories and unanswered questions."

"Don't tell me..." his voice choked, eyes widening in horror, "you're planning to step into that living furnace!?"

The friend looked straight into his eyes, his gaze as unyielding as cold steel. "True scientists must dig to the very roots of truth," he replied calmly. "If we stop thinking, stop exploring, we're no different from walking corpses."

"How many people already!?" He shouted, gripping his friend's shoulders, voice trembling. "Has anyone ever returned from that hell!? Are you mad!? What about your wife, children, parents!?"

The scientist sighed softly, his gaze distant towards the horizon. "Theoretically, it's possible to return. I believe there's some barrier at that non-physical gate, and I'll break it." He turned back, looking deep into his friend's eyes. "I'll go there and rescue everyone. Don't you remember Su? Can you bear to leave her lost alone in that void?"

Silence fell. The friend stood frozen, eyes brimming with tears, mouth moving wordlessly. Finally, he whispered, voice pained: "..."

Coils of wire lay scattered across the laboratory floor, like sleeping metal snakes. The fluorescent light reflected off their smooth surfaces, creating an atmosphere both cold and mysterious.

"I'll depart tomorrow," the scientist spoke, his voice lowering as if talking to himself. "Please bring me a lock of her hair."

Silence reigned. The friend stood there, motionless as a statue, his eyes filled with indescribable emotions.

"Why do you need hair?" Finally, he blurted out the question, voice full of doubt and confusion. "You only need coordinates to get there. What have we been researching all these years?"

The scientist turned back, his gaze deep as if looking through space and time. "Do you remember the theory of quantum strings? They connect everything in the universe, even those who are lost." He paused, taking a deep breath. "Su's hair isn't just a memento. It's an anchor, a connection point. In that non-physical world, it might be the only string leading me to her."

The friend stepped back, stunned by this idea. "You're mad," he muttered, but there was a hint of hope in his voice.

"Perhaps," the scientist smiled sadly. "But this is our only chance. If I'm right, we won't just save Su, but open a new horizon for science."​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​