CTS TIME: RE250.05.24
LOCAL SYSTEM CLOCK: 6:15 PM
FACILITY: DNA ORGANISATION — LOWER MECHATOPIA
Dr. F stood silently for several seconds after his last words.
He did not rush.
Silence, he knew, was pressure without fingerprints.
This subject is easy, he thought clinically.
Emotional stability already compromised. Identity dependent on external validation. Obedience masquerading as virtue.
Sophia sat rigid in the chair, red chains glowing faintly against her wrists and ankles. Her breathing was uneven now, shallow and tight, like each inhale required conscious permission. She stared at the space where the hologram had been, as if looking away might make the next blow miss.
It didn't.
Dr. F lifted two fingers.
The air fractured into layers of light.
Files opened. One by one.
Not rushed.
Not overlapping.
Each given space to land.
"Jealousy," Dr. F said calmly, almost gently.
A projection formed: LUNA MOONCREST.
Radiant Heart.
S-rank.
Smiling effortlessly in every captured image.
"Always smiling," Dr. F continued. "Always chosen for high-profile missions. Media adored her. Male colleagues gravitated naturally."
Sophia's lips pressed together.
"You told yourself you didn't care," he said. "That admiration was irrelevant. That professionalism mattered more."
He looked at her.
"But you watched."
The image zoomed—Luna laughing with teammates, hands brushing shoulders, cameras flashing.
"You felt invisible beside her," Dr. F said. "Jealous. Ashamed of being jealous."
Sophia's nails dug into her palms.
That's not true, she thought weakly.
I was just focused on work.
But the thought lacked conviction.
The image shifted.
SEINNA FROSTVEIL — A RANK
Younger.
Sharper.
Unapologetically confident.
"A junior," Dr. F said. "Less experience. Less discipline."
He paused deliberately.
"Better body proportionality."
Sophia flinched.
"That jealousy confused you," he went on. "You didn't hate her. You hated that you noticed."
Sophia swallowed hard.
I didn't want to feel that way.
Dr. F didn't respond to her thoughts aloud. He didn't need to.
Another file opened.
SQUAD DYNAMICS — FRACTURE INDEX: HIGH
"Your connection with your squad was never strong," he said. "Polite. Functional. Never intimate."
Images showed her standing slightly apart during briefings. Walking alone down corridors.
"You tried to connect," Dr. F continued. "You rehearsed conversations. You offered help."
He glanced at her.
"You failed."
Sophia's chest tightened painfully.
"They didn't dislike you," he said. "They just didn't need you."
The next projection activated.
Two close-range units tearing through enemies effortlessly.
"Your squad had two close-combat specialists," Dr. F said. "They cleared fields before you could even deploy."
He tilted his head.
"That annoyed you."
Sophia's mouth opened slightly.
I just wanted to contribute.
"You clashed repeatedly with your medic partner," Dr. F continued. "During civilian rescues."
A red overlay highlighted blood-soaked environments.
"Fear of blood," he said quietly. "Again."
Sophia squeezed her eyes shut.
I hate myself for that.
The files did not stop.
A timestamp appeared.
EVENT: SQUADMATE BIRTHDAY
INVITATION: NOT SENT
Dr. F's voice lowered.
"One squadmate," he said, "didn't invite you to his birthday."
Sophia's breath caught.
"You still prepared a gift."
The system displayed a timer.
PREPARATION TIME: 2 HOURS 30 MINUTES 46 SECONDS
Her heart began to race.
"That person," Dr. F said softly, "was your first crush when you newly joined the squad."
Her vision blurred.
Why does he know this?
"You waited for acknowledgment that never came," he said. "You smiled anyway."
Another layer unfolded.
PERSONAL PREFERENCES:
— Blueberry cake
— Blueberry muffins
— Blueberry juice
— Minimal interest in fashion
Dr. F smiled faintly.
"I like blueberries too," he said conversationally.
The casualness of it made her stomach twist.
The files continued.
A hallway.
Sophia alone.
S-rank insignia on her uniform.
No one stopping. No recognition.
"Even as an S-rank," Dr. F said, "you weren't recognized by superior ranks or officials."
He turned to her.
"You stood in hallways hoping someone would notice."
Her shoulders sagged.
"You can't defend yourself in arguments," he went on. "You freeze. You retreat."
The image shifted again.
A wedding.
Her former love interest. Another woman.
Sophia standing stiffly in the background.
"After that," Dr. F said, "you became more vulnerable. More emotionally unstable."
Her lips trembled.
The next files were colder.
Official messages.
ISA NOTICE: NO CURRENT MISSIONS
ISA NOTICE: SALARY WITHHELD — PERFORMANCE REVIEW
ISA NOTICE: DEMOTION TO A RANK — UNDER CONSIDERATION
Each line struck like a blunt instrument.
"You were afraid," Dr. F said. "Of downgrade. Of irrelevance."
He stepped closer.
"That fear led you here."
Sophia's breathing turned ragged.
"You asked for this infiltration," he said. "Not because ISA needed it—"
His voice sharpened.
"—but because you needed to feel useful."
She shook her head weakly.
"No… they sent me—"
"They didn't want you," Dr. F interrupted calmly. "Not really."
The final file opened.
FAMILY STATUS — DISENGAGED
"Your family," he said quietly, "lost hope."
The room seemed to tilt.
Dr. F straightened.
And then—
He raised his voice.
Not loud.
But sharp.
Precise.
"You are trash," he said.
The word echoed unnaturally.
"Garbage."
Another step closer.
"Rubbish."
Sophia's chest convulsed.
"No one ever wants you," he continued. "Your presence is background noise."
He leaned in, eyes cold.
"And that," he said, "is the reality."
Something inside her gave way.
Not dramatically.
Not explosively.
Just… quietly.
Tears slid down her cheeks, silent and unstoppable. They fell onto her uniform, darkening the fabric.
She did not sob.
She did not protest.
She simply cried.
Her head bowed slightly—not in defiance, not in dignity.
In defeat.
He's right, a part of her whispered.
I tried so hard… and it still wasn't enough.
Dr. F watched without expression.
Data scrolled invisibly in his mind.
Break achieved, he assessed.
Next phase possible.
Sophia's tears continued to fall, each one carrying something she could no longer hold onto.
Pride.
Obedience.
Loyalty.
All dissolving quietly at her feet.