Sometimes, the worst part of the truth isn't what it reveals. It's how quietly it proves that everything you've built was just a prettier version of your own prison.
Scene: Dorm 103 – 4:42 a.m.
The knock wasn't loud.
But it wasn't soft, either.
A precise, three-tap rhythm — neutral, just enough to let him know it wasn't urgent.
Tessa.
He opened the door without speaking.
She didn't step inside.
She held a small box in both hands.
No words.
No expression.
He reached out. Took it.
She turned to leave.
Paused.
And said quietly:
"Just… don't throw it away."
Then she was gone.
Scene: Rook's Desk – Minutes Later
He stared at the box.
Unassuming. Metallic gray. Digital seal — her code, not his.
He opened it.
Inside: the Concord file reader.
He knew before it lit up what it would show him.
But he looked anyway.
Ava's face. Code strings. Movement logs. Audio snippets.
Then deeper.
Psychological models. Mimicry alignment matrices.
The name Tessa Rye appearing over 40 times in calibration notes.
And at the bottom of the page…
Emotional substitution threshold:"If subject shows attachment to original, engage by echo. Displace original. Ensure loyalty."
He scrolled further.
Found the real rot.
Solaris.
Not as contributor — but as DNA reference.
Ava wasn't just designed to distract him.
She was partially built from him.
He sat back.
The room didn't move.
But he felt the echo anyway — like a detonation had just gone off in his ribs.
He didn't shout. Didn't curse. Didn't even breathe hard.
He just sat in the quiet and let the realization come, wave by wave.
They built a girl from pieces of his father.Taught her to wear Tessa's kindness like perfume.Then handed her to him as a leash.
And he let them.
Because he wanted to believe.
That maybe she was real.
That maybe Tessa's warmth could live in someone else too.
Because if one person could mean it — then maybe he could still become something worth it.
Now?
He understood.
He wasn't being hunted.
He was being shaped.
Measured.
Refined.
Like a weapon still in testing.
He whispered, without looking away from the screen:
"You didn't clone my father to remember him.You did it to aim me."
Scene: Training Tower – Six Hours Later
The cadets were sparring.
Supervisors were watching.
Rook walked in without uniform.
No ID. No wristband. Just boots and silence.
People turned.
He didn't acknowledge them.
He walked straight to the glass wall overlooking the city.
The press drones noticed. Zoomed in.
That was the point.
Aya found him thirty minutes later.
She didn't speak at first.
Then:
"So… it's real."
He didn't look at her.
"I was never meant to win."
Aya folded her arms. "You think this breaks you?"
He finally turned.
"No. I think this unlocks me."
Scene: Ava's Quarters – Same Time
She stood in the center of her room.
Motionless.
Recording loop running in her head.
Spliced words. Emotional response triggers.
Lines she was meant to say.
Lines she'd already said.
She knew the conversion was failing.
She knew he had the file now.
But deep beneath the echo of orders and programming—
Something flickered.
An emotion not on the chart.
Not assigned.
Not coded.
Something like:
Dread.
Scene: Dorm 103 – That Night
Rook sat alone.
He opened a new file.
Titled it:
Public Fall Schedule – Phase Two
First name on the list:
Zodiac: Gemini.
Next to it:
"The scientist who authored Ava's emotional shell. She wanted a mimic."
He paused.
Then typed:
"I'll show her a mirror instead."
And at the very bottom:
A single line to himself.
Not a threat.
Not a plan.
Just a truth.
"They trained me to become a ghost.Now I'll become the storm."