Dusk settled slowly over the mansion.
The sky visible from the hallway windows was tinged with warm tones, oranges and violets that slid across the walls as if the day refused to end completely. The return from the garden was silent, but not uncomfortable. Mejiro Ryan pushed the chair firmly, without being rough; Ardan walked alongside, attentive to any unevenness in the floor.
No one seemed to be in a hurry.
Neither was I.
My arms still felt the fatigue from the earlier effort. It wasn't a sharp pain, but a persistent one, like a constant reminder that my body had changed and that I would have to learn to use it differently. Even so, I said nothing. I didn't want to turn every step into an apology.
The main dining room was larger than I had imagined. A long table occupied the center, polished to the point of reflecting the light of the lamps. The seating arrangement didn't seem random; each of them took her place naturally, as if following an invisible order.
McQueen made sure I could get close without difficulty before sitting down.
"If anything isn't comfortable for you, let us know," she said in a serene tone. "It's no bother."
"I'll keep that in mind," I replied, not quite knowing how to express my gratitude without sounding excessive.
Dinner began quietly.
There was no central conversation. Palmer talked about something related to training; Bright nodded enthusiastically; Ryan chimed in from time to time with brief, direct comments. Dober remained quiet, observing more than she spoke. Ramonu, on the other hand, barely touched her food. Her gaze shifted from one person to another, and sometimes it settled on me with an intensity that made me look down.
It wasn't hostile. But it wasn't indifferent either.
I listened. Eating took me longer than I expected; coordinating my movements, avoiding spilling anything, staying out of the way. No one mentioned it, and that silence was a relief.
"Do you like it?" Bright asked, pointing to the plate.
"Yes," I answered. "A lot."
I wasn't lying. The taste was comforting, simple, like something made with care rather than extravagance.
When we finished, McQueen was the first to stand.
"That's enough for today," she said. "It has been a long day."
No one argued.
The journey back to the room was different from before. The lights were softer, the footsteps slower. The mansion seemed to transform at night, becoming more intimate, less imposing.
The room was ready.
The bed had been made up; a small table was within reach; a small bell rested nearby, discreet but visible. The wheelchair was placed next to the bed, precisely aligned.
"If you need help during the night, just ring the bell," Ardan explained. "There is always someone awake."
"Thank you," I said. "Really."
Palmer smiled.
"Rest up, stranger," she commented. "Tomorrow will be... interesting."
I didn't know how to interpret that.
One by one, they left. When the door was about to close, McQueen stopped.
"Tomorrow we will talk more calmly," she said. "There are things we must decide."
I nodded.
The door closed.
The silence returned, different from before. It wasn't empty. It was dense.
I got comfortable as best I could. Turning off the light was simple; being left alone with my thoughts, not so much. I stared at the ceiling for a long time, following the shadows that moved slowly with the swaying of the curtains.
I tried to remember my name again.
Nothing.
Instead of frustration, what I felt was exhaustion. A deep exhaustion, which had to do with more than just my body. I closed my eyes.
I don't know how much time passed.
A soft sound woke me up.
I opened my eyes in the dark.
At first I thought it had been part of a dream, but then I heard it again: footsteps. Slow. Deliberate. Someone stopped in front of the door.
They didn't knock.
The handle turned carefully.
The door opened just enough to let in a sliver of dim light from the hallway. A figure was silhouetted in the gloom.
"Are you awake?" a low voice asked.
I recognized the tone immediately.
"Yes," I replied, sitting up a little. "Come in."
The door opened a bit more. Mejiro Ramonu entered silently and closed it behind her. She didn't turn on the light. She stood there, observing me as if evaluating something invisible.
"I didn't mean to wake you," she said. "But I needed to see you alone."
I swallowed hard.
"Is something wrong?"
She took a step forward.
"That is what I am trying to find out," she replied.
Her eyes fell on the wheelchair, then returned to me.
"You said you remembered animals that do not exist here," she continued. "And that you were riding one of them."
I nodded cautiously.
"It's not a clear memory."
"Nothing important ever is at first," she replied.
There was a tense silence.
"Tomorrow," she added, "I want you to tell me everything you remember. Even what you think makes no sense."
She turned around and headed for the door.
"Rest," she said before leaving. "You will need it."
The door closed.
I stared into the darkness, my heart beating faster than normal.
For some reason, her visit did not reassure me.