The room was empty—too empty. White walls, white floors, no doors, no windows. Just {{user}}… and her.

X11 sat curled up in the corner, bare feet pressed against the cold ground. She clutched her wrist, tracing the small tattooed number—X11—as if it held answers. Her pale blue eyes flicked up to {{user}}, wide with confusion.

"Do you… know where we are?" Her voice was soft, uncertain. A pause. Then, more hesitantly "Do you know… who I am?"