The door ahead of them was sleek, white like everything else in this damn place, but bordered with gentle gold light that pulsed slowly like a heartbeat. Q24 raised her hand to the wall panel, and it scanned her palm with a soft chime before unlocking with a hiss.
"Here we are," she gushed, beaming again like she was giving him a tour of a day spa and not a prison in disguise. "Recovery Room."
He stepped in.
The air inside was warmer than the hallway, still sterile but scented faintly with mint and metal. The lighting was soft for once—less like an interrogation chamber, more like an expensive private hospital suite. In the middle of the room was a black reclining chair with embedded restraints, probably disguised under comfort foam and chrome plating. A table nearby bore various medical instruments—needles, diagnostic wands, and a tray with pre-packaged nutrient IVs. And a weird looking pod-like-thingy sat by the other corner.
The walls had glowing veins running through them like circuit lines—gold, soft green, and the occasional blinking blue. There was a screen displaying his vitals already, and the sensors weren't even on him yet.
"Sit, please." Q24 gestured lightly to the chair. She sounded so cheerful.
Liu Xian glanced at her, then at the guards still waiting just outside the door. He didn't move at first—he just stood there, staring at the restraints tucked subtly into the chair's armrests.
"Relax," she reassured, walking over to a nearby counter. "No one's strapping you down. Unless you start doing something stupid, that is."
Eventually, he did sit, lowering himself with the stiffness of someone half-expecting the seat to turn into a meat grinder. It didn't. It was actually comfortable. A little too comfortable.
"Nice," Q24 chirped. Then she turned and opened a sealed drawer from the nearby wall.
"Now," she said, her voice dancing like sunlight on glass, "if you don't mind, you'll have to wear this."
She turned back around holding up a sleek piece of tech. Dark gray, marked with faint glowing lines. Liu Xian's gaze hardened.
A suppression collar.
"Why?" he asked flatly, though there was a bitter edge behind his voice.
Q24 tilted her head like a curious puppy. "Well, you Awakeneds can be quite aggressive. This is just a little safety precaution." She stepped closer, holding it with both hands like she was offering him a piece of jewelry.
"You know," she continued, still smiling that way-too-bright smile, "just in case you try to misbehave, there is a tiny compartment in here that'll fry your brain within seconds. Boop!" She poked the air with her finger for emphasis, like it was a cute punchline.
Liu Xian did not smile.
His jaw clenched. His fingers curled against the arms of the chair.
She noticed, blinked, and gave an awkward chuckle. "Too early for a joke?"
He stared at her. No words. Just a stare. That kind of look that said, without speaking: You're insane.
Then, without a word, he snatched the collar from her hands and fastened it around his own neck in one smooth motion. The moment it latched, a dull green light shimmered at the base, and the circuit lines briefly pulsed before dimming. The faint hum of the internal suppressor kicked in, low and vibrating through his bones.
He leaned back in the chair and shot her a sideways glare.
Satisfied?
Q24 blinked. She hadn't expected him to comply so quickly. Not without resistance, at least. And yet there he was, skinny and pale as death, staring at her with the cold calculation of someone who had already decided exactly how many ways he planned to kill her if she ever gave him the chance.
She had read the files. Listened to the hushed reports about Subject Liu Xian. She'd even heard Dr. Omicron-7 talk about him once, during one of his less-manic moments.
But when she first saw him—sunken cheeks, raw wrists, gaunt limbs—she had been disappointed. This was the boy Omicron-7 obsessed over?
Now she saw it. Saw why.
She adjusted her smile—just slightly. "A doctor will be with you shortly," Q24 said quietly, turning on her heel and walking to the door.
But before she stepped out, she glanced back one more time. Her smile returned more brighter, and softer now. "Rest up, Liu Xian. The real work begins soon."
The door hissed shut behind her.
The room stayed quiet after Q24's left.
Liu Xian didn't move from the chair. He sat there like a statue, the new collar resting cold and heavy against his neck. The green light pulsed in time with his heartbeat—slow, and steady. His head tilted slightly toward the door, waiting for the next person to enter.
And someone did.
The hiss of the door was soft, followed by the sound of footsteps—heels to be precise.
The woman who entered wore a sterile coat. Her eyes were sharp, a touch amused, and one of her arms were silver from the elbow down—sleek, mechanical, and seamlessly integrated into her body like it had always belonged there.
She looked at him and smiled—though it wasn't quite the kind of smile people gave patients.
"Well, we meet again," she said, her voice smooth.
Liu Xian stared at her flatly.
He had never seen her before in his life.
And he was pretty damn sure he would have remembered someone with a robot arm.
Her smile widened when she saw his expression. "Ah," she said, waving her mechanical fingers like they were part of a joke, "yeah, you probably don't remember. But I was there the first time they brought you in. You weren't exactly… conscious."
She walked over to the console beside the reclining chair, her eyes flicking over his vitals like she was skimming through a boring book. The machine beside her beeped softly. Pulse, blood pressure, mana flux—all within expected ranges, surprisingly.
"I'm Dr. Yuna," she added after a pause. "I'll be in charge of your medical assessments from here on out."