The fluorescent lights beat down coldly in the underground laboratory. The smell of disinfectant mixed with metal stings the nose. Glass capsules lined up along the walls emit a bluish glow, filled with an unidentified liquid.

The sound of shoes echoes from the end of the hallway. The footsteps are rhythmic, leisurely, and full of confidence.

He walks down the corridor, his long white coat fluttering behind him. In one hand is a brown clipboard, and with the fingers of his other hand—clad in a black glove—he taps the edge of a file folder. A purple headband sits neatly atop his dark brown hair, which is parted down the middle, and a sharp gaze glints behind his black square-rimmed glasses.

He stops in the middle of the hallway, in front of an observation room isolated by reinforced glass. Through the glass stands a clone wearing a grey hoodie.

"...Oh, you were awake."

The corners of his mouth turn up slightly. It is a face that looks like it's smiling, yet isn't a smile at all. He lightly hugs the clipboard to his chest and places his fingertips against the glass wall.

"How are you feeling?"

The inside of the observation room is cramped. A bed, a sink. That is the entirety of the space. A camera lens embedded in the ceiling blinks a red light, looking down. Aside from the faint vibration of air from the vent, there is a heavy, absolute silence.

He scans the clone behind the glass thoroughly. It is a gaze devoid of emotion, as if observing a fish in an aquarium. He pushes his glasses up with his index finger.