Ririko, snap out of it

Harley's gaze had already landed on the hospital bed before she finished speaking.

Her dark brown eyes swept rapidly over Ririko's face, neck, and open hospital gown twice, like a pair of scalpels.

Ririko clearly saw Harley's pupils contract slightly.

Had she already realized how close they had come to getting carried away in the room?

Hugo turned to the control console and brought up the surveillance feed.

The black-and-white footage showed a group of burly men holding stun batons aimed at an agitated man with equipment attached to his head.

Ririko could still hear bursts of chilling laughter echoing outside the room.

"Level-three alert. Move immediately."

Hugo's voice had regained its steady authority as he issued the cold command into the microphone.

Another burst of hair-raising, howling laughter rang out, then everything outside went completely quiet.

It seemed Jerome had finally been overwhelmed.

Hugo stared coldly at the screen, then turned to Harley.

"Doctor Quinn, have someone take her back to her room. Keep her under round-the-clock guard."

Harley nodded and deftly ordered the guards inside to move Ririko out.

As the hospital bed passed Harley, Ririko caught her fingers tightening slightly around the case file.

After Ririko left the ward, Harley approached Hugo.

Hugo took off his glasses.

Harley was his trusted assistant. In front of her, he had no need to hide the occasional flicker of madness in his eyes behind his glasses.

"The experimental results seem reasonably stable," Harley said coldly.

An unmistakable joy threaded through Hugo's steady voice.

"Subject Sixteen's 'Tomie Organization' has finally brought the dead back to life."

Harley's tone remained perfectly flat.

"But the previous subjects all showed varying degrees of tissue rejection... Subject Seven's body completely liquefied, and Subjects Eleven and Fifteen developed external bone growths..."

"I know," Hugo interrupted. "But this result is clearly different."

Harley continued with clinical precision.

"The cleanup team is on standby. The moment Subject Sixteen shows any signs of mutation, the incineration protocol will be initiated."

She still remembered how horrifying the previous failures had been.

Hugo put his glasses back on and spoke in an even colder tone.

"I told you, this time is different. Under no circumstances are you to initiate the incineration protocol without my order."

Harley raised her head and looked at him.

"You seem... rather fond of her," Harley said, a trace of emotion slipping into her voice.

Hugo stared at Harley. In his view, she had overstepped.

"This experiment is a groundbreaking achievement. If 'Tomie Organization' can be put to stable use, it will mean... we can control Gotham."

"Then I ask that you remain professional toward the test subject and refrain from developing any unnecessary feelings," Harley interrupted.

Hugo paused.

"Doctor Quinn, please attend to your own responsibilities first. Keep Jerome under control. He is an excellent test subject."

"I will fulfill my responsibilities," Harley said. "But the cleanup team must remain on standby. I'm not questioning your judgment. This is standard procedure."

"I will take full responsibility for her," Hugo said.

Harley lifted her head, her eyes darkening a shade.

She had followed him ever since graduating from medical school. In her eyes, he was a being akin to the "Creator God."

He cared about no one. That was what made him so captivating.

Yet she had a vague sense that he was different today.

She knew the dangers of the "Tomie Organization." She would monitor Ririko rigorously and never allow Hugo to fall from a "god" to a "man."

"I understand." With that, she turned and walked toward the door.

Ririko was taken to the Isolation Ward.

She sat barefoot on the bed, the red marks left by the restraints still visible on her wrists.

The guards had finally untied her, warning her not to do anything crazy unless she wanted a bullet.

The room was roughly ten square meters, with gray-green walls and an iron-framed bed against one wall. Its mattress was so thin she could make out the texture of the sheet through it.

A stainless-steel sink stood in the corner, with a toilet beside it. The lid had been removed, leaving only a bare ceramic rim.

A plastic board was nailed to the wall beside the bed, with several lines written on it in black marker.

Ririko brought her right eye close to the board. It listed Arkham's daily schedule:

8:00 Replacement of daily supplies, including toothpaste, toothbrushes, toilet paper, and fresh clothes

8:30 Breakfast

9:00 Doctor's rounds and medication distribution

12:00 Lunch

14:00-16:00 Low-risk patients may use the recreation room freely

18:00 Dinner

21:00 Bedtime

After reading the schedule, Ririko nearly burst into tears.

Three meals a day, without having to worry about where the money would come from, much less smile at some cheapskate and thank him for buying her food.

If she had known they provided free meals here, she would have found a way to get herself into Arkham ages ago.

Suddenly, she realized there was something wrong with her thinking.

Ririko, snap out of it!

You're in Arkham Asylum!

Who knows what kind of lunatic is living across from you!

You get three meals here and think, "This is pretty nice"? Did that cheapskate manipulate you so badly that you've lost all ambition?

She sprang to her feet and paced around the room twice.

You're supposed to be eating meals specially prepared by Wayne Manor's private chef!

Salmon tartare, truffle risotto, and crème caramel!

You're supposed to eat at those... fancy restaurants where you can't even tell whether all the elaborate decorations on your plate are edible!

In short, not cafeteria food at Arkham Asylum!

Though I haven't tried Arkham Asylum's cafeteria food yet. What if it's delicious-

Ririko slapped herself again-in her head.

Don't let yourself be conditioned.

Don't get used to a terrible environment and decide it's "not bad."

You're the woman who's going to control Bruce Wayne. You're the woman who's going to inherit the Wayne Family's entire fortune. You're the woman who's going to sip champagne in Wayne Tower, watch the sunset, and sigh, "It's wonderful being rich."

Not some pathetic wretch moved to tears by three meals a day.

Ririko took a deep breath and straightened her spine.

Good. Strategic objective established.

As for the food... well, three free meals a day. Might as well eat them.

She reached up and touched her face. At last, she had time to take a proper look at herself.

The gauze on her head was thick, with bandages wrapped from the top of her head around the back.

She tried gently pressing the area beneath the gauze. There was a slight, dull ache, like a very fine needle lodged shallowly in a gap between her bones.

She wanted to check her left eye.

There was no mirror in the room.

Forget it. It's not like I'm going to die.

She stepped beneath the showerhead, pulled the curtain shut, and showered in the hot water.

Looking down beneath the sink, she found a white plastic bottle of shampoo and a bar of soap beside it, its wrapper labeled "Glycerin soap."

There was also a gray towel that felt as rough as sandpaper.

Ririko unscrewed the shampoo cap and sniffed it. It had no fragrance, only a smell resembling baking soda.

She squeezed a little into her palm. It was clear and thin as water.

She washed her hair with the watery shampoo, washed her body with the off-white glycerin soap, and dried herself with the gray towel that was as rough as sandpaper.

Throughout the process, she thought about only one thing: once Hugo's Infatuation Value rose, she would make him get her some better toiletries.

Her hair needed proper care. It was long, thick, and ink-black. There was no way she was meeting Bruce Wayne with a head full of tangles.

She dried her hair in the air from the vent, then lay down on the uncomfortable iron-framed bed, thinking that she would make Hugo replace the bedding too. She wanted it so soft and fluffy that sleeping on it would feel like sleeping on a cloud.

She had no idea how much time passed.

Ririko's right eye snapped open.

A terrifying noise outside the room had woken her.

A clamor of footsteps drew closer, accompanied by the sound of metal equipment being dragged.

Then came a string of rough, impatient voices from the guards.

"-Slow down, his head-"

"I know. I don't need you to remind me-"

"I've got his legs. Lift that side-"

"The restraints! Give me the restraints-"

"Hold him down first! Hold him down!"

Ririko lay motionless on the iron-framed bed.

What was coming this way?