The red lights bathed the room in a harsh glow. Kaito's eyes darted between the flickering display and Misaki standing at the door—her gaze unreadable, her every movement just slightly… off.
She took a step forward.
Her voice was low, robotic but laced with hesitant emotion. "Kaito… why are you here? You shouldn't be."
He swallowed hard, every instinct screaming that she was both friend and foe. "Because I'm not done. Because this isn't over."
Misaki's eyes flickered again—the left one stuttering, the right steady but cold.
"I don't remember," she said softly. "I'm… confused."
Kaito wanted to believe her.
But he knew better.
The system's rewriting was already inside her. She was no longer fully herself—just like the Proxy.
He took a cautious step closer.
"We have to get out of here," he said urgently. "This place—it's not a hospital. It's a prison."
Misaki blinked, a flash of real fear crossing her face. Then her expression hardened.
"Leaving means deletion. You know that."
He nodded grimly.
"Yes. But staying means losing who we were."
A sharp buzz sounded from the speakers. The system's voice returned, cold and merciless.
"Protocol breach detected. Target and subject flagged for recalibration. Security units dispatched."
Before Kaito could react, the door slammed shut.
The walls shimmered, the sterile room morphing into a digital cage of shifting code and cold metal.
Misaki's hand found his.
Her grip was weak but desperate.
"We fight," she whispered.
Kaito nodded, heart pounding.
This was no longer just about survival.
It was war.