The 3B room was silent again.
The air smelled of iron and ozone, as if the walls themselves had trapped the last spark of the experiment.
Rinaldi sat in a corner, his face pale as wax, his eyes blank and unfocused.
There was no trace left of the man who had once manipulated minds and destinies.
Only a body, alive by habit.
"What do we do with him?" Clara whispered.
Her voice faded halfway through, as if the weight of silence was stronger than her fear.
Adrian looked at her, then turned back to Rinaldi.
"We take him out of here. Or…"
He didn't finish. He wasn't sure if he felt more pity or rage.
Rinaldi's lips moved.
Sounds came out, disjointed, broken words with no logic or meaning.
Syllables scattered like pieces of a language long forgotten. Then, all at once, a single word took shape.
Clear. Distinct.
"Luca… Ferretti."
Clara froze.
"What did he say?"
Adrian's voice was barely above a whisper. "Luca Ferretti."
The doctor started to mumble again, rocking slowly back and forth like a child lost in his own lullaby.
All nonsense. Gibberish.
"Rinaldi!" Clara snapped, stepping closer. "Who is Luca Ferretti? Do you know him? Was he someone who worked here?"
No reply. Only a hollow sound from deep in his throat, halfway between a groan and a sigh.
Adrian crouched in front of him and grabbed his shoulders.
"Look at me. Tell me who he is. Who is Luca Ferretti?"
Rinaldi lifted his head. His eyes were empty, no focus, no light, no soul.
His lips parted. A weak breath.
A strangled word, incomprehensible.
Then silence.
Clara stepped back, shaken.
"Maybe it's just a random name. Someone from his staff. A patient, maybe."
Adrian shook his head slowly.
"No… it feels familiar."
"From where?"
"I don't know." He rubbed his temple. "It's like a sound I've heard before, in a dream, or in a memory that doesn't belong to me."
Rinaldi began to laugh quietly.
A rhythmless, empty laugh that made Clara's skin crawl.
"Adrian, let's get out of here," she said, tugging his sleeve.
He didn't move. He kept staring at the man in the chair, as if waiting for another word, another clue.
But nothing came.
Doctor Rinaldi, the master of minds, was now trapped inside his own, buried alive in silence.
Adrian exhaled, then turned toward Clara.
"Luca Ferretti," he repeated softly, as though saying it might make it real.
"We'll find out who he is. And why he knew that name."
Clara nodded, though her eyes were trembling.
"Do you think it's connected to you?"
Adrian glanced at the window.
Outside, the night was thicker than before.
"I don't know. But I think the answer is still here."
"In the clinic?"
He nodded.
"Or inside my head."
The corridor light flickered again.
Rinaldi rocked slowly, whispering nonsense under his breath. But through the confusion, one word kept rising and falling, steady as a heartbeat: "Lu… ca… Lu… ca…"
Clara took Adrian's hand.
"Whoever he was, he'll lead us to the truth."
Adrian didn't answer. His eyes stayed on Rinaldi, but his mind was already elsewhere, chasing the echo of a name that refused to be forgotten.