The broadcast played unintentionally—just background noise in the aging workspace where Arden resided in silence. But on that small screen, a national youth art contest was underway. Dozens of faces came and went.

Until one face made his entire body freeze.

Not from shock. But because of the command embedded in his mind from the very beginning.

That girl.

The one who escaped ten years ago. The one who shouldn't have survived. The one who was never meant to be seen.

And now, she was laughing on screen—as if she weren’t the result of a failed project.

—

Arden spoke to no one. He simply rose, donned his black jacket, and headed to the station.

No hesitation. Because he knew—just like himself, the girl was not meant to be free. That command had been whispered into his ears every night—by a voice that never fully left his memory.

When he saw her sitting in the last car—talking casually with a friend—Arden remained at the far end. Waiting.

They were not strangers. But they were never friends.

They came from the same walls. The same room. But their fates had diverged from the start: he was given a mission; she was given the chance to run.

As the train entered a tunnel and the light dimmed, Arden stepped forward.

He sat directly across from her.

She tensed. Breath caught.

Arden simply looked at her. Calm. His voice low, barely audible.

“The Professor wants you to come home.”

No response.

He leaned in slightly. Still calm. But close enough to make her blood run cold.

“I have no personal desire. But I know what happens to those who refuse to return.”

He pointed to her chest, precisely where the chip had once been embedded.

“We’re the same. But you chose to reject function. I didn’t.”

The lights returned.

The train began to slow.

Arden rose slowly, then spoke, nearly devoid of emotion:

“Go home before they send something that isn’t me.”