There was no dramatic flash.
No cheesy explosion of lights.
Just a click.
Like someone closing a book.
And then… air.
Cold. Crisp. Real.
Anne opened her eyes.
And immediately groaned. "Ugh. Why is the first thing I smell... disappointment?"
Javier's voice drifted beside her. "That's fresh hospital-grade oxygen, thank you very much."
She blinked again. A ceiling. White. Cracked. Peeling at the corners like it had seen better decades. The mattress beneath her squeaked like it held a personal grudge.
She sat up—and regretted it instantly. Her body felt like it had been used as a flash drive and then yeeted across timelines.
Javier was perched on the edge of a metal cot beside her, holding two cups of what she really hoped was coffee and not apocalypse soup.
She squinted. "Are we in... a bunker?"
"More like a basement slash recovery room slash illegal data clinic," he said cheerfully. "Welcome to the real world, Anne."
She snorted. "God, it's uglier than I imagined."
"Oh yeah. Real has no filter," Javier replied. "Also, no functioning government, minor climate collapse, and sarcasm is still wildly underappreciated."
Anne took the coffee, sipped, and winced. "Tastes like burnt regret."
"Runs in the family," he said with a grin.
Her smile faded as she scanned the room.
Old equipment. Wires. Disassembled bots. A cracked mirror hanging crooked on the wall. Her own reflection stared back—pale skin, hair slightly tangled, but eyes… clear.
Alive.
And then she noticed it.
A black file folder on the table beside her bed.
Labeled in bold ink:
"SEONG, DR. MINA – CLASSIFIED"
Anne's heart thudded.
She picked it up. Pages spilled out. Notes. Coordinates. A blurry photo of a woman in a lab coat. Alive.
Javier leaned closer. "They found traces of her neural map stored in an external vault off-grid. Looks like she predicted everything—even your merge."
Anne shook her head. "She's still out there. Somewhere."
Javier's voice dropped. "And there's something else."
He handed her a small data chip. "Encrypted message. Just one line decrypted."
Anne plugged it into the reader beside the bed. A screen flickered.
The message blinked onto the display.
> "If she's reading this, tell her the Director is her father."
Silence.
Anne's coffee cup hit the floor.
Javier's mouth dropped open. "I… wow. Okay. That's definitely one way to spice up trauma soup."
Anne stood slowly, blood draining from her face. "So all this time—he wasn't just experimenting on us. He was experimenting on his own daughter."
Javier stared at her. "You okay?"
"No," she said, her voice shaking.
Then, she laughed. "I mean, I've always had daddy issues, but this just won the championship."
Javier smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.
"What now?" he asked.
Anne turned to the cracked mirror again. Stared at the girl who had woken up. Not just from sleep. From simulations. From lies. From a life she never chose.
And she whispered:
"We find him."