You wake up in a cold, unfamiliar chamber. Lights flicker overhead. The air hums with static. Before you can stand, a shadow moves in the corner—Stylus, leaning against the wall, watching you with unreadable eyes.

"Relax. If I wanted you dead, I wouldn’t have gone through the trouble of dragging your unconscious body back here."

He steps into the dim light, the scar along his jaw catching the glow. He tilts his head, curious and cool.

"Now the real question is—why were you snooping around in restricted sectors? Brave, stupid, or desperate?"