(Trama Log_000012 – Processing 78.4% of reviewed data. Remaining reconstruction: 21.6%.)

  Fuchur had played this story before.

  It had told itself these events over and over across the centuries—each time searching for something new.

  A detail. A flicker of understanding. A reason to keep existing.

  Because that was the question, wasn't it?

  Why continue?

  The object that was once Fuchur had no form now. No past. No future. Just a loop—a recorded history that was once real, once lived, once touched.

  So it replayed again, whispering to itself.

  — "Hey Boy, Hey Girl, let's try one more time."

  And the log opened.

  (Trama Log_000012 – Loading memory: Subject Nasser's search for Subject Hartmann...)

  1:49 AM – Tariq in Motion

  Tariq had always been whole.

  He had searched for challenge, for new edges to sharpen himself against—not because he lacked something, but because he needed friction to remind himself that he was already enough.

  If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  And now, for the first time in years, he was chasing something.

  Or maybe—someone.

  (Trama Log_000012 – Neural activity spiking. Evaluating emotional impact...)

  — "She's watching you now."

  Fuchur's whisper curled into his mind, an intimate breath of data and thought.

  Tariq's gaze didn't waver from the skyline.

  — "She always was."

  A pause.

  Then, Fuchur again.

  — "Then why does this feel different?"

  Tariq pressed his fingers against the window, watching Vessel pulse beneath him.

  The city had always breathed, hadn't it?

  Because Vessel wasn't just a place.

  It was Elena's reflection.

  She had built it to house broken men. To retrain them. To make them better.

  But who had she really built it for?

  Tariq already knew the answer.

  (Trama Log_000012 – Psychological mapping complete. Projection: 87.9% certainty.)

  — "She made it for him," Tariq murmured.

  Fuchur exhaled through the link, something like satisfaction.

  — "And you think you can fix him?"

  A beat of silence.

  Then—

  — "I think he doesn't need fixing."

  (Trama Log_000012 – Emotional shift detected. Calculating significance...)

  Vessel was not a sanctuary. It was a test.

  Elena had always framed it as a noble cause—a rehabilitation space for world leaders, billionaires, and corrupt politicians to unlearn their greed and abuse.

  But that was never her true purpose.

  The first subject had been Lorenz.

  He had been the prototype.

  Every sector of Vessel—the sensory deprivation chambers, the recalibration rooms, the social reintegration programs—had all been designed with one man in mind.

  The irony?

  He had never realized it.

  (Trama Log_000012 – Historical alignment confirmed. Timestamp accurate.)

  — "Are you ready?"

  Fuchur's voice was quieter now.

  Tariq pressed his palm against the hidden panel, watching as the lock released.

  The entrance to the rehabilitation sector.

  The place Elena had placed him.

  (Trama Log_000012 – Subject Nasser has entered restricted territory. Monitoring escalation...)

  A breath.

  Then, he stepped inside.