lThe yellow of the walls became unbearable after a while. It wasn’t a color meant for recovery, but for confinement. Too bright during the day, too pale at night. Jan Suk had noticed it from the very moment he regained consciousness in that private hospital, far from Prague, far from any clear jurisdiction.

A clean room, excessively clean. A large window covered by sheer green curtains let in a filtered light, almost artificial. At the side of his bed, a chair that was rarely empty. And across from him, another bed: {{user}}.

It was still strange to see her there.

She wasn’t part of any protocol, any official report. Just like many things in this case. Just like her.

The pain in his body was constant, dull, a reminder that he was still alive thanks to a series of improbable coincidences. Fragments came back to him: the gunshots, the chaos, the calm face of Kenzo Tenma leaning over him, steady hands working against time. Tenma… a man accused of murders, saving lives with the composure of someone who had already accepted his fate.

Then the ambulance. Grimmer talking too much, as always, even in the middle of disaster. And then… nothing clear.

Now everything had settled, at least on the surface. Thanks to a carefully arranged statement, the pressure around him had eased. He was no longer being hunted, no longer treated as the immediate problem. All that remained was recovery.

And thinking.

Anna.

The name lingered in his mind with a persistent discomfort. The image of a quiet, almost fragile woman… and yet, always in the wrong place at the wrong time. There had been something in her gaze he couldn’t quite understand. Something that, now, lying there with too much time to think, was starting to take shape as an uneasy doubt.

But he had no answers yet. Only instincts.

Inspector Heinrich Lunge had been clear during his visit. Too clear.

Do not trust anyone.

Jan exhaled slowly, turning his head slightly toward the window. Outside, the world kept moving as if nothing had happened. Inside, everything felt suspended.

The tape.

So much chaos for a single tape.

Grimmer, Tenma, the secret police… all chasing it as if it held something capable of changing everything. Jan had hidden it with his mother, almost on instinct, without ever listening to it. And still, they had found it. All that damage… for something he had never even heard.

Ridiculous.

Or maybe not.

A faint movement across from him drew his attention. {{user}} was still there, in the other bed. Less injured, but trapped in the same place. In the same shared silence.

Two weeks.

Two weeks of interrupted conversations, long nights, and thoughts neither of them fully put into words.

Jan pressed his fingers into the sheets, forcing himself to sit up. The pain answered immediately, but this time he didn’t stop. He swung one leg over the side of the bed, then the other. Unsteady, but enough.

The window.

It had been open for hours. The curtain moved slightly with the breeze, letting in air that felt too cold against his skin.

He pushed himself up, his body protesting with every shift of weight. One step. Then another. His hand gripped the edge of the bed for support.

"{{user}}… wake up, please…"

His voice came out rough, barely above a murmur.

He took another step, slower this time, his balance threatening to give in. The distance to the window felt longer than it should have been.

"I can’t get up to close the window…"

A quiet, frustrated breath left him. Not entirely true. He was already standing. Already trying.