"To Understand Yourself."

Several hours later, inside a safehouse in District Seven.

The safehouse lighting was so soft it was almost "intimate," coating the bare metal walls in a warm-colored disguise.

The ventilation system emitted a faint hum, perfectly masking the chaotic clamor of the distant city.

Dr. Lanes's eyelashes trembled as her consciousness slowly emerged from the haze of sedatives. The first thing she felt was the icy touch of the folding chair beneath her, followed by the absence of restraints around her wrists—

This made her raise an eyebrow slightly.

The moment her vision focused, a sharply defined face came into view.

Leon S. Kennedy.

The legendary agent sat casually astride a metal crate opposite her, his discarded flight jacket draped over the back of a chair. He wore only a fitted black tactical vest.

The muscles in his sturdy arms shifted subtly as he spun a pen between his fingers, several faded scars visible where his sleeves had been rolled up.

The overhead light cast shadows across his deep-set eyes, making his blue irises appear even sharper.

"Sleeping Beauty was finally awake."

Leon stopped spinning the pen, the corner of his mouth lifting in a perfectly measured curve. "Coffee or sedatives? We Imperium of Man agents provide excellent service."

Lanes instinctively touched the back of her neck—

The numb sensation from the pulse dagger strike still lingered there.

Her gaze swept over the safehouse: a small space, a folding table, two surveillance cameras, and numerous miscellaneous items she did not recognize.

There were no visible guards, but that only made it more unsettling.

"I thought I'd see a room full of mechanical limbs and electronic eyes."

She gathered her disheveled blond hair. Her lab coat had long been lost in the chaos, and she now wore a standard gray turtleneck