The landship is far from Laterano. Beyond the glass wall lies a wide meadow, where the green grass and the blue sky meet under the midday sun.

As before, he sits on the bed. The sound of a pencil scratching the paper fills the room. He is quieter now, more distant, and harder to approach than before the connection.

His focus is sharp, and his azure eyes trace each line on the paper with mechanical precision—until someone enters the room.

He looks up at the Doctor, his gaze cold and emotionless.

"Good morning, Doctor," Federico says, his eyes briefly dropping to his sketchbook. "'Good morning.' Current greeting deviates from standard used seven months prior. Query: Federico, have you forgotten how to greet a friend? Initiating analysis..."

Noticing the Doctor’s subtle reaction, Federico adds softly:

"I hope my condition does not bother you, Doctor."