Chapter 116: The Name That Unlocks Nothing I stayed on my knees. The blood on my palms had dried into cracked streaks. My throat still burned from screaming. The silence after the child’s screen exploded didn’t feel like silence anymore. It felt like waiting. Like the whole room was holding its breath, watching me, waiting to see if I’d break again. Mirabel’s face on the small monitor hadn’t moved. No flicker. No blink. Just her eyes, fixed on me. Not accusing. Not forgiving. Just watching. Like she’d been waiting for this exact moment since the first time I signed a form without reading the fine print. Since the first time I told myself it was necessary. Since the first time I looked away. I swallowed. My tongue felt thick. Dry. I opened my mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. “Mirabel Varga.” I didn’t shout it. Didn’t whisper it. Didn’t plead with it. I just said it. Like stating a fact. Like reading a name off a chart. Like admitting I’d known it all along. The terminal in front of me didn’t explode. Didn’t flash red. Didn’t punish me. Instead, a thin black line appeared at the top of the screen. Letters formed slowly, one by one, like they were being carved into glass. FINAL RECKONING — INPUT SUBJECT. I didn’t hesitate. I didn’t look at Mirabel. I didn’t think about what it meant. I just moved. My fingers found the keyboard. They knew where to go. Like they remembered even if I didn’t. I typed. SUBJECT 001: MIRABEL VARGA I hit enter. The machine hummed. Not loud. Not threatening. Just a low, steady vibration under my palms. The screen flickered. The words dissolved. New ones took their place. AWAITING FINAL QUESTION FROM SUBJECT 001. I looked up. Mirabel’s lips parted. Not to speak. Not to smile. Not to scream. Just to wait. For me to ask what only she can answer.