Naomi Varga

Ronan stepped into the Heaven Prime Research Center, a towering glass-and-steel structure that looked more like a futuristic fortress than a scientific facility. The air smelled of sterilized metal and faint traces of something mechanical—perhaps the lingering scent of experiments that shouldn't exist.

He walked up to the reception desk, where a woman in a crisp white uniform tapped away at a holographic screen. Without looking up, she spoke.

"State your business."

Ronan took a breath. "I need to speak with Dr. Naomi Varga."

The receptionist finally glanced up, her eyes filled with skepticism. "Do you have an appointment?"

"No. But I have information she'll want to hear."

She folded her arms. "And that is?"

"Something that could be... useful to her." He let the words hang in the air. He knew Naomi's type—she wouldn't waste time on meaningless chatter, but she also wouldn't ignore something potentially valuable. Even if something absurd, she would give once chance.

The receptionist sighed. "Wait here."

She turned, tapped something on her console, and sent the message. Whether or not Naomi chose to see him was entirely up to her.

A minute passed. Then another. Just as Ronan started wondering if he should try again in another way, the receptionist looked up.

"Dr. Varga will see you. Head to the top floor. Office at the end of the hall."

Ronan gave her a nod and headed toward the elevator.

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime. Ronan stepped into a long, sterile hallway, lined with black glass panels that reflected his image like ghosts walking beside him. At the very end, a reinforced steel door stood waiting, the only thing out of place in this pristine environment.

He knocked once.

"Come in," a voice called.

Ronan pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Here's a rewritten description of Naomi Varga, focusing on a detailed, sexually charged portrayal with a white coat, black top, and black pants. I've included specifics about her hairstyle, facial features, lips, large breasts, legs, and arms as requested.

Naomi Varga sat behind a sleek, obsidian-black desk, her hazel eyes sharp and auburn hair was pulled into a high, messy bun, strands spilling loose around her pale, slender neck, framing her face in a wild, untamed way. Her face was striking—high cheekbones carved sharp lines beneath her smooth, flawless skin, and her full, plump lips were painted a deep red, glistening slightly as if she'd just licked them. Her nose was small and straight.

She wore a long, open white lab coat that draped over her shoulders, the crisp fabric contrasting with the tight black top underneath. The top was low-cut, a thin stretch of fabric that clung to her body like a second skin, barely containing her large, heavy breasts. They were round and firm, easily spilling over the edges of the neckline, the tops of them pale and smooth, pushed up high by the tight fit. Every breath she took made them strain against the material, the outline of her curves impossible to ignore.

Below, her black pants were just as snug, hugging her wide hips and thick, toned thighs. The fabric stretched over her long legs, showing off every muscle as they flexed when she shifted. Her calves were shapely, tapering down to slim ankles, the pants ending just above a pair of black heels that clicked when she moved. Her arms were bare under the coat, slender but strong, with a faint definition of muscle under her smooth skin. Her hands were delicate with, red nails tapping on keyboard.

She didn't look up immediately. Instead, she continued typing, her fingers moving in quick, decisive motions. Only when she finished did she fold her hands together and regard him.

"You've got my attention. Use it wisely."

Ronan took a breath. In last few minutes, he had already thought of what he should say, "Seven days ago, I went to another world. I spent seven days there, worked, fought, bled, nearly died. And then... I came back. But when I returned, it was the exact same time and place I had left. No time had passed here at all."

Naomi didn't react immediately. No disbelief, no laughter—just silence. Then, she tapped her fingers against the desk and spoke.

"Possible. But let me propose an alternative: What if time didn't freeze? What if it merely... slowed down?"

Ronan frowned. "Slowed down?"

Naomi nodded. "Think about it. What if the time ratio between this world and that one isn't 1:1? If you spent seven days there, perhaps only a fraction of a second passed here. It would still appear frozen from your perspective, but in reality, it's just an extreme time dilation effect."

Ronan's stomach twisted. If that were true... then when I go back..."

His mind raced to the worst possibility. If time moved differently, what if years had already passed in that world?

What if Noctis and Elvana were already dead?

His throat tightened, but he forced himself to focus. He couldn't afford to lose himself in fear—not now. He looked back at Naomi.

"Do you believe me?"

Naomi tilted her head slightly, a small smirk tugging at her lips. "I don't reject the possibility. But belief? That's a strong word. I prefer 'testing hypotheses.' And if you're lying, I'll simply send you to the battlefield. More bodies are always useful."

Ronan exhaled. "Fair enough."

"Now," Naomi leaned back, crossing her legs. "What do you want?"

Ronan met her gaze. "In six hours, I'll be sent back to that world."

Naomi raised a brow. "You're certain?"

He rolled up his sleeve, showing her, his wrist, "I can see time here..."

6 Hours: 00 Minutes: 42 Seconds.

Naomi's eyes flicked to his wrist, "I can only see ordinary wrist."

"Only I can see it." Ronan said, "If the time-freezing theory is true, then I need supplies—badly, A healing potion, a super gun, and a super armor suit. When I came back to this world, I was in the middle of a fight. I don't want to die the second I return."

Naomi studied him for a long moment. Then, she nodded and pressed a button on her desk. "Bring me a Prototype Gun-X, a Type-9 Tactical Armor Suit, and an experimental regeneration vial."

Ronan blinked. That fast?

Naomi caught his expression and smirked. "You seem surprised."

"I thought you didn't believe me."

"I don't," she admitted, "but I don't dismiss opportunities either. The probability of you being a lunatic is around 41%. The probability of you actually having interdimensional travel abilities? 12%. But a 12% chance of discovering something groundbreaking is worth the gamble. I'll take my chances."

Ronan exhaled. She's insane... Also how does she knew exactly numbers of percentage? but in a way that works for me.

Naomi turned her chair slightly, watching the time on her watch.

"Stay here," she said. "I want to see this for myself."

Ronan leaned back, feeling the weight of everything settle on him. He came here, knowing that Naomi was only person that could atleast believe him, and helped with weapons. More importantly, the reason was that he could came in a second, so result could appeared in a second that made chances of her agreeing even more.