Darin woke to the sound of fabric shifting.
Her eyes opened slowly. The ceiling above her was white and unbroken, interrupted only by a recessed light that hummed faintly. The air carried the clean sting of antiseptic, layered with something floral, detergent meant to reassure.
Her body felt wrong in small, strange ways. It's clean, too clean. Her hair had been tied back, stray strands brushed from her face. The bandage around her head was new and tighter than before, neatly wrapped. Fresh clothes covered her, soft and loose and unfamiliar.
She hadn't put them on by herself.
A chair scraped softly against the floor.
"You're awake earlier this time," Sugar said.
Darin turned her head.
Sugar stood beside the bed, smoothing the blanket with practiced hands. She wore a pale blouse and dark slacks, her brown hair pulled back neatly.
"How do you feel now?" Sugar asked.
Darin searched herself for an answer.
"I don't know," she said.
Sugar nodded, accepting it without comment. "Still the usual."
She checked something on a tablet, fingers tapping lightly against the screen. Darin watched the ease of it, the way Sugar didn't need to look at her to know she was still there.
"Do you remember what you are?" Sugar asked.
Darin hesitated. "No."
"That's fine," Sugar said. "You just need some time to recover."
Darin swallowed. Her throat felt dry.
"My brother," she said. The words escaped before she could stop them. "Where is he?"
"He survived," Sugar said.
Relief struck hard and fast, knocking the breath from Darin's lungs. Her shoulders sagged despite herself, fingers curling into the blanket.
"He's alive?" Darin asked, just to hear it again.
"Yes."
Darin closed her eyes briefly. The image of Kangwoo, bloodied, limping toward her was pressed against the back of her mind.
When she opened them, Sugar was watching her more closely.
"But," Sugar continued gently, "he's no longer registered as your brother."
Darin frowned. "What?"
Sugar's tone remained even. "Family ties were dissolved."
…
"That doesn't make sense," Darin said. "You can't just–"
"We can," Sugar said calmly. "And we did."
Darin pushed herself upright, pain flaring behind her eyes. "Why?"
Sugar tilted her head slightly, considering. "Your brother demonstrated qualifiable combat capacity."
Darin stared at her.
"That triggered protocol," Sugar went on. "Once a subject crosses a certain threshold, prior classifications no longer apply."
"You can't talk about him like he's an object," Darin said. Her voice shook despite her effort to steady it.
Sugar smiled faintly, not unkindly.
"I'm talking about him the way the system does," she said. "It's easier that way."
"Am I also an object to you?" Darin asked.
Sugar leaned back in her chair. "You're under observation."
"For what?"
Sugar studied her, "You are important."
Darin let out a breath that trembled despite her. "...What?"
"Recover," Sugar said. "and you'll remember."
She stood, smoothing her sleeves. "Most people don't survive discovery, Darin. Both of you did. That wasn't an accident."
Darin looked down at her hands. They were steady. She couldn't remember when that had happened.
"If I cooperate," she asked quietly, "he'll stay alive?"
Sugar didn't answer at once.
Then, carefully: "Compliance improves outcomes."
Darin looked down.
"...I understand," she said.
Sugar smiled, satisfied, and retrieved her tablet. "Good. I'll check on you again later."
She paused at the door. "Oh, and Darin?"
Darin looked up.
"You should avoid using the word brother from now on," Sugar said pleasantly. "It tends to complicate things."
The door closed softly behind her.
Darin sat alone in the quiet room, staring at the far wall.
Brother…
Kangwoo.
Kangwoo…
She held the name in her mind, over and over, refusing to let it fade.
She would remember.
And when she did, the system would learn what it had missed.