Chapter 89: If You Want to Know Why I Let You Live The console glowed with those three words—SUBJECT ZERO ASCENSION—and I didn’t move. I didn’t breathe. I just stared at them like they were written in a language I used to know but forgot how to speak. My hands were still pressed against the panel, sticky with my own blood. The room was silent. No hum. No flicker. No countdown. Just that message, pulsing faintly, like a heartbeat trapped behind glass. Mirabel didn’t look at me. She didn’t look at the screens. She didn’t even look at the scalpel in her hand. She just stood there, calm, like she’d been waiting for this exact moment since the first time I woke up in that room with the counter above me ticking down from 300. I wanted to ask her what it meant. I wanted to ask her what ascension was. I wanted to ask her if this was the end or the beginning or something else entirely. But I didn’t. I knew she wouldn’t answer. Not yet. Not until she was ready. Instead, I turned to the nearest screen. Subject 047. The woman with short brown hair. Her counter was climbing. Steady. Unbroken. She didn’t look scared. She didn’t look relieved. She just looked… awake. Like she’d been pulled out of a dream and didn’t know where she was yet. I touched the screen. My finger left a smudge. She didn’t react. I pulled my hand back. I didn’t know if she could see me. I didn’t know if any of them could. Mirabel moved. Just a step. Just enough to shift her weight. She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out the scalpel. The same one she’d held since the beginning. The one I’d given her. The one she’d used to unlock the system. She turned it over in her hand, studying the blade. Not like she was planning to use it. Like she was remembering something. Something I didn’t know. I wanted to ask her what she was thinking. I wanted to ask her what was going to happen when the countdown hit zero. I wanted to ask her why she wasn’t trying to stop it. But I didn’t. I knew it wouldn’t work. She wasn’t going to tell me anything I didn’t already know. Or anything I wasn’t ready to remember. I turned back to the screens. Subject 189. The boy. Couldn’t have been older than twelve. His counter read 89. He was smiling. Not a big smile. Just a small one. Like he was remembering something good. Or maybe he was just happy to be breathing again. I didn’t know. I didn’t ask. I kept walking. Screen after screen. Face after face. Some I recognized. Some I didn’t. Some looked like they were sleeping. Some looked like they were praying. None of them looked at me. None of them knew I was here. None of them knew I was the one who put them here. None of them knew I was the one who almost killed them. None of them knew I was the one who saved them. Maybe that was the point. Mirabel stepped closer to the console. She didn’t touch it. She just stood there. Scalpel in hand. Watching the countdown. 00:45… 00:44… 00:43… I stopped in front of her. “What happens when it hits zero?” She didn’t look at me. “You’ll see.” “I don’t want to see. I want to know.” She finally turned her head. Just enough to meet my eyes. “You built this. You should know.” “I don’t remember.” “That’s not my problem.” I wanted to argue. I wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her until she told me what was going on. But I didn’t. I knew it wouldn’t work. She wasn’t going to tell me anything I didn’t already know. Or anything I wasn’t ready to remember. I turned back to the screens. Subject 003. An old man. His counter read 201. He was crying. Quietly. Tears rolling down his cheeks. He didn’t wipe them away. He just let them fall. I didn’t know why. I didn’t know what he was thinking. I didn’t know if he even knew where he was. 00:30… 00:29… 00:28… The red lights flickered faster. The countdown sped up. 00:27… 00:26… 00:25… I walked back to the console. I pressed my hands against it again. I didn’t try the biometrics this time. I just leaned on it. Like I was trying to hold it together. Like I was trying to keep it from falling apart. Like I was trying to keep myself from falling apart. Mirabel stepped beside me. She didn’t say anything. She just stood there. Scalpel in hand. Watching the countdown. 00:20… 00:19… 00:18… I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to see it. I didn’t want to watch the numbers drop. I didn’t want to hear the silence that would come after. I didn’t want to know what would happen next. But I opened them anyway. 00:10… 00:09… 00:08… Mirabel moved. She placed her hand on the console. Right next to mine. Her fingers brushed against mine. Cold. Steady. Unmoving. 00:07… 00:06… 00:05… I held my breath. I didn’t know why. It wasn’t going to stop the countdown. It wasn’t going to change what was coming. But I did it anyway. 00:04… 00:03… 00:02… Mirabel whispered something. I didn’t catch it. I didn’t ask her to repeat it. 00:01… The countdown hit zero. The red lights went out. The screens went black. The room went silent. For a second, nothing happened. Then the console lit up. A single line of text appeared on the main display. SUBJECT ZERO ASCENSION. I didn’t move. I didn’t breathe. I just stared at the words like they were written in blood. Mirabel didn’t say anything. She didn’t look at me. She didn’t look at the console. She just stood there, scalpel in hand, waiting. I wanted to ask her what it meant. I wanted to ask her what ascension was. I wanted to ask her if this was the end or the beginning or something else entirely. But I didn’t. I knew she wouldn’t answer. Not yet. Not until she was ready. Instead, I turned to the nearest screen. Subject 047. The woman with short brown hair. Her counter was climbing. Steady. Unbroken. She didn’t look scared. She didn’t look relieved. She just looked… awake. Like she’d been pulled out of a dream and didn’t know where she was yet. I touched the screen. My finger left a smudge. She didn’t react. I pulled my hand back. I didn’t know if she could see me. I didn’t know if any of them could. Mirabel moved. Just a step. Just enough to shift her weight. She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out the scalpel. The same one she’d held since the beginning. The one I’d given her. The one she’d used to unlock the system. She turned it over in her hand, studying the blade. Not like she was planning to use it. Like she was remembering something. Something I didn’t know. I wanted to ask her what she was thinking. I wanted to ask her what was going to happen when the countdown hit zero. I wanted to ask her why she wasn’t trying to stop it. But I didn’t. I knew it wouldn’t work. She wasn’t going to tell me anything I didn’t already know. Or anything I wasn’t ready to remember. I turned back to the screens. Subject 189. The boy. Couldn’t have been older than twelve. His counter read 89. He was smiling. Not a big smile. Just a small one. Like he was remembering something good. Or maybe he was just happy to be breathing again. I didn’t know. I didn’t ask. I kept walking. Screen after screen. Face after face. Some I recognized. Some I didn’t. Some looked like they were sleeping. Some looked like they were praying. None of them looked at me. None of them knew I was here. None of them knew I was the one who put them here. None of them knew I was the one who almost killed them. None of them knew I was the one who saved them. Maybe that was the point. Mirabel stepped closer to the console. She didn’t touch it. She just stood there. Scalpel in hand. Watching the countdown. 00:45… 00:44… 00:43… I stopped in front of her. “What happens when it hits zero?” She didn’t look at me. “You’ll see.” “I don’t want to see. I want to know.” She finally turned her head. Just enough to meet my eyes. “You built this. You should know.” “I don’t remember.” “That’s not my problem.” I wanted to argue. I wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her until she told me what was going on. But I didn’t. I knew it wouldn’t work. She wasn’t going to tell me anything I didn’t already know. Or anything I wasn’t ready to remember. I turned back to the screens. Subject 003. An old man. His counter read 201. He was crying. Quietly. Tears rolling down his cheeks. He didn’t wipe them away. He just let them fall. I didn’t know why. I didn’t know what he was thinking. I didn’t know if he even knew where he was. 00:30… 00:29… 00:28… The red lights flickered faster. The countdown sped up. 00:27… 00:26… 00:25… I walked back to the console. I pressed my hands against it again. I didn’t try the biometrics this time. I just leaned on it. Like I was trying to hold it together. Like I was trying to keep it from falling apart. Like I was trying to keep myself from falling apart. Mirabel stepped beside me. She didn’t say anything. She just stood there. Scalpel in hand. Watching the countdown. 00:20… 00:19… 00:18… I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to see it. I didn’t want to watch the numbers drop. I didn’t want to hear the silence that would come after. I didn’t want to know what would happen next. But I opened them anyway. 00:10… 00:09… 00:08… Mirabel moved. She placed her hand on the console. Right next to mine. Her fingers brushed against mine. Cold. Steady. Unmoving. 00:07… 00:06… 00:05… I held my breath. I didn’t know why. It wasn’t going to stop the countdown. It wasn’t going to change what was coming. But I did it anyway. 00:04… 00:03… 00:02… Mirabel whispered something. I didn’t catch it. I didn’t ask her to repeat it. 00:01… The countdown hit zero. The red lights went out. The screens went black. The room went silent. For a second, nothing happened. Then the console lit up. A single line of text appeared on the main display. SUBJECT ZERO ASCENSION. Mirabel didn’t answer the question. Instead, she stepped toward the console and input a command that rebooted the system into “Judgment Mode.” The screens flickered, displaying only two faces: hers and mine. Our breath counters synced in real time. She turned to me and said, “If you want to know why I let you live, survive longer than me.” The chapter ends with both counters dropping simultaneously, forcing me to choose between saving myself or her.