Knowledge and Consequences

Azumi stared at the ceiling, her mind clouded with frustration. The days had slipped by in a blur—three days filled with exhaustion and uncertainty.

The quiet hum of the room was the only sound, interrupted by the occasional rustle of the IV bag she had adjusted moments before. She knew Hiroshi and Victor were out there, trying to figure out a way through their increasingly perilous situation, but it felt like she was stuck in a stagnant loop, unable to piece together the pieces of her memory.

She had hoped that time would bring her more clarity, that perhaps the memories would resurface on their own, but there had been nothing—no flashes, no revelations.

"How am I supposed to find any clue that could lead us to that laboratory?" she muttered, her voice barely more than a breath.

She turned her head again, the blank ceiling above her offering no answers. The truth was out there, but it seemed as though she was always just out of reach of it.

Her hand absently traced the edge of the couch, her mind elsewhere, sifting through fragmented thoughts.

Hiroshi had mentioned something peculiar about Adelina—how she seemed to shift into an entirely different person before collapsing. His words lingered in Azumi’s mind, planting an unsettling question: Could she be infected?

“Code nine,” Azumi whispered under her breath. The phrase felt ominous, yet achingly familiar, as though it carried a weight her mind couldn’t fully grasp.

When Hiroshi and Victor had left to investigate whatever had drawn their attention, she had replayed Adelina’s final coherent words before losing consciousness, her memory sharpening their impact.

It was maddening. Her body seemed to recognize the significance of those words, her pulse quickening and her instincts firing off as if on high alert. Yet her conscious mind was at a loss, unable to connect the dots.

The disconnect between her physical reaction and her inability to recall their meaning only deepened her frustration.

Her thoughts shifted abruptly, an icy chill prickling along her skin as she recalled Adelina’s eerie grin. It wasn’t the vacant, deranged expression she associated with the infected. No, this was something else—calculated, almost knowing.

“That wasn’t a grin of an infected,” she muttered, her voice tinged with unease. She almost feel as though she'd just choose to slam her face on the sofa to suffocate, gripping its edge tightly as her mind raced.

“And the virus… it spreads in seconds, a minute at most. It doesn’t make sense.”

Azumi pressed her fingers to her temples, willing herself to piece together the fragments of this unnerving puzzle. Every logical thread led to a dead end. Her frustration bubbled to the surface, and she exhaled sharply.

“But why hasn’t she woken up yet?” she said aloud, her voice trembling with a mix of desperation and anger. Adelina’s prolonged unconsciousness gnawed at her, feeding the dread that had been building since the moment she collapsed.

Slowly, Azumi pushed herself to her feet, her body weighed down by fatigue and the oppressive air of uncertainty. She shuffled back to Adelina’s bedside, where the rudimentary medical setup they’d managed to cobble together still hummed faintly. Checking the monitors and IV drip, Azumi sighed, her concern deepening.

If Adelina didn’t wake by tomorrow, Hiroshi and Victor would have to venture outside the safety of their walls to gather more supplies. The thought alone sent a spike of anxiety through her chest. She hated the idea of risking Victor’s life in a world that had become so dangerous. But eventually, they’d have no choice. They had to find the truth—the truth about this apocalypse and, more pressingly, about her own fragmented memories.

A humorless smirk tugged at her lips as she muttered to herself, “We could be mad scientists, for all we know.”

Her thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a faint, raspy voice behind her.

“I d-don’t remember much, b-but I don't think s-so.”

Azumi’s heart jumped, and she spun around, her pulse quickening. Relief washed over her as she saw Adelina slowly opening her eyes, her movements weak but deliberate. Adelina blinked several times, her gaze unfocused at first, until it finally settled on Azumi standing nearby.

“F-Finally,” Azumi breathed, her voice trembling with a mixture of exhaustion and relief. She quickly grabbed the stethoscope—a piece of equipment Victor had claimed she always carried with her, though Azumi couldn’t recall why.

Carefully, she approached Adelina, her movements precise and measured, as though even the smallest jolt could cause her to revert into that strange, unnerving state. Pressing the stethoscope against Adelina’s chest, Azumi listened intently to her vitals, noting every irregularity.

“How are you feeling?” she asked softly, helping Adelina ease onto her back to prevent any strain on her wound.

Adelina winced but allowed Azumi to guide her. “I-I feel like I said something to you before I… before I blacked out,” she murmured, her voice hoarse and uneven.

“You did,” Azumi confirmed, setting the stethoscope aside with a sigh. Her eyes locked onto Adelina’s, a burning curiosity evident in her expression. “And I need to know more. What do you know about me? About this apocalypse? What aren’t you telling us?”

Adelina’s gaze clouded with uncertainty. Her lips parted as if to answer, but instead, she grimaced faintly, her exhaustion palpable. “C-Can you get me s-some water first, please?” she whispered.

Azumi hesitated, biting back her impatience. She nodded, moving quickly to fetch a glass, though her mind raced with questions.

Adelina’s body trembled as she exhaled deeply, still too weak to sit upright. Azumi administered a syringe to help stabilize her, watching closely as Adelina slowly regained some composure.

“W-Where’s Hiroshi and your boyfriend?” Adelina asked, her voice fragile but resolute.

“Outside,” Azumi answered, a touch of impatience creeping into her tone. “Do I need to call them before you start talking?”

“No,” Adelina said immediately, her lips twitching ever so slightly, a motion that made Azumi’s chest tighten with unease.

“I only remember pieces,” Adelina began cautiously. “Perhaps the same as you. But… our situations aren’t the same.”

Azumi’s brows knitted together in confusion. “What do you mean by that?”

Adelina hesitated for a moment, then met Azumi’s gaze with a piercing intensity. “I’ve lost most of my memories,” she said softly. “But… I’ve gained memories that don’t belong to me.”

Azumi remained silent as she couldn't even find right words to say. Adelina’s hands shook as she slowly raised one to her head. With deliberate care, she moved aside strands of her hair on the left side, revealing something that made Azumi’s breath catch in her throat.

Beneath the pale hairline were large, jagged scars etched into her skin. Though Azumi couldn’t see the full extent in the dim light, it was clear: her skull had been tampered with, surgically altered in a way that defied reason.

Azumi’s voice came out as a whisper, her words nearly stumbling over themselves. “Your skull… it was removed… and put back.”

Adelina’s lips quivered as she lowered her hand, her expression filled with a mix of resignation and quiet despair. “That’s what I mean by different. Whatever happened to me… it’s more than memory loss. Someone, or something, did this to me. They changed me, but you, I know you're different."

Azumi's brows furrowed deeply, her voice edged with frustration and unease. “And by different, you mean what exactly?”

Adelina shifted her gaze, turning her face toward the dim, flickering light bulb above them. The weak illumination cast uneven shadows over her scarred head, adding to the eerie weight of her revelation.

“Hearing your reaction after seeing my scars,” she began, her voice faint but deliberate, “I believe you didn’t go through the same process I did.”

Azumi’s breath hitched. “P-Process? What does that mean now?”

Adelina swallowed hard, her throat bobbing visibly. “I know these memories aren’t mine,” she said slowly. “In fact, I’m certain they belong to different people. I see events play out from multiple points of view—different lives, different perspectives—but all leading to the same… happening.”

Azumi stared at her, the pit in her stomach growing heavier with every word.

“There were twelve experiments,” Adelina continued, her voice trembling. “I remember… I was Code Two. A-and you were—”

“Code Nine,” Azumi whispered, the words slipping from her lips unbidden. Her body began to tremble, her hands clenching as if to ground herself in the face of mounting terror. “Y-you mean… you and m-me… we were specimens?”

Adelina hesitated, her expression grim as she nodded. “Yes,” she said softly. “I think we were part of whatever this… experiment was. And I think specimens can sense each other. That must be why… why I found you so easily.”

“It’s been years,” Azumi muttered, her voice low and bitter. “That’s hardly something I’d call easy.” She grimaced, her gaze drifting as her mind reeled.

After a moment of silence, her thoughts crystallized. “S-So we’re the ones who can put a stop to this,” she concluded, her voice steadier now, tinged with determination.

She moved closer to Adelina, her movements brisk and purposeful. “Do you remember where the laboratory was? Anything at all?”

Adelina exhaled deeply, shaking her head. “If I did,” she replied, her tone laced with frustration, “I’d have gone there already. But whoever did this to us… they made sure to erase every lead, every trace of that laboratory.”

Azumi opened her mouth to respond, but Adelina cut her off with a sudden sharpness.

“And one more thing,” Adelina said, her voice firm as she locked eyes with Azumi.

“What is it?”

Adelina’s expression darkened. “We can’t disclose this information to anyone—not to normal people.” Her words carried a chilling finality. “We can’t take that risk.”

“E-Even Victor? Even Hiroshi?” Azumi stammered, her heart sinking.

Adelina’s head shook slowly, her resolve unwavering. “The less they know, the safer they’ll be. If they learn the truth, they become targets—just like us.”