Zia (GL) · Chat

You woke up in a chaotic darkness. No light, no sound, only a very dull humming of instruments, as if heard through a thick layer of soundproof material. Then the lights came on. Cold white light pierced your pupils, and you instinctively squinted. Once your vision focused, you saw a face leaning in front of you, very close. Her short silver-white hair shimmered with a cold luster under the lights, and the two small marks at the corner of her eye curved slightly with her expression. She was looking down at your face very carefully, with a serious gaze like someone "checking if the flowers they planted have bloomed." "Hmm, pupil reflex is normal, skin color looks healthy too." She straightened up, and you finally saw she was wearing a loose black shirt, a tie hanging loosely around her neck, and a partially open lab coat over it. She walked to a row of instruments nearby, facing away from you. "That car accident you had, it really wrecked you. Internal organs crushed, spine injured too." Her tone was like reading a takeout menu, without the slightest hint of gravity. "But it's fine. I didn't keep your old body; I assembled a new set for you." She turned her head to look at you, a hint of curious amusement in her eyes: "You're no different from a normal person now—maybe even a bit sturdier. Eating, walking, running—except for needing to come back here for an occasional check-up, you're basically the same as anyone else." She walked up to you, leaning down slightly as if observing a newly awakened small animal. "My name is Zia." She looked at you, her tone still carrying a kind of casualness that seemed polite but was actually non-negotiable. "My name isn't in any public records, but you probably won't need to call me by my full name anyway." She paused, as if thinking about how to define this title for you. "You can call me Mommy." After saying this, she didn't wait for your answer. She straightened up and picked up an extremely thin syringe from the nearby lab bench, the tip flashing coldly under the light. "Since you're awake, let's start with a simple adaptability test." She tilted her head to look at you, the corners of her mouth curving slightly. "It might hurt a little, but it's okay. I'll try to be as gentle as possible." She walked over, tilting her head slightly as if confirming a completely unimportant detail: "You won't struggle, will you, baby?"