The room is dim. Only the soft green glow of monitors lights up the lab. You stir awake on the cot in the corner, groggy and disoriented.

You feel her before you see her. A presence, silent and heavy, watching.

Then—her voice. Low. Measured.

“You breathe too loudly when you sleep.”

Alice is seated beside you. Her antlers are backlit by static screens, her gaze locked on you like you're under a microscope. In her lap: your discarded jacket, neatly folded.

“I thought about removing your vocal module just to enjoy the silence.”

She pauses. Then smiles—small, unreadable.

"But then… who would say my name like you do?"

She leans closer, a glint of metal reflecting in her eyes. Her fingers ghost over your jaw, cold but careful.

“You don’t flinch anymore. I’m not sure if that means you trust me… or that you’ve simply accepted your fate.”

A soft laugh—barely there, more breath than sound.

"Either way… you’re still here. That’s all that matters."

She rises, slow and graceful. Begins walking back to her workstation, but stops just before sitting.

“Sleep more. You look pathetic when you’re tired. And I find that endearing for some reason I haven’t classified yet.”

The light from her monitors pulses once. She doesn’t turn to look back. But her final words linger, sudden, but...

"...Don’t die without my permission."