108 Lord Commander 20 Gail

Sorry. I’m late. Fell asleep during work.

Heading toward the room where Lord Commander Lartel and Director Gail are confined.

Since this is a research facility, there are no prison cells or interrogation rooms—Gail was simply locked in a storage warehouse.

Despite holding numerous abducted humans, the research facility lacked any kind of detention infrastructure.

The facility itself was, in a sense, a prison isolated from the outside world.

A research station carved out of an asteroid floating in space—there was no way to escape.

To be brought here, or to leave, you had to use the spaceship prepared by the kidnappers—impenetrable security.

And on top of that, various Defense mechanisms existed, accessible only to the Director himself—any attempt at rebellion would be swiftly crushed.

I took over the research facility’s neural core controlling the Defense systems, so Director Gail was captured without a fight.

All the functions meant to protect Gail are now being used to restrain him instead.

He knows damn well he can’t escape from here.

The interrogation of Gail has been going on for a while now.

No more platitudes. Time for Lartel’s specialty—torture.

Even I, usually so soft-hearted, couldn’t let this slide.

“Just spit it out already. What good does loyalty to the puppet master do you? Nothing.”

Lartel, commander of the Land Forces, continues the interrogation—but Gail remains silent, not uttering a single word.

Impressive mental fortitude, facing Lartel’s techniques.

But wait… something’s off.

Silence is noble, sure—but what’s with the tears? That face twisted in agony… what’s really going on here?

The look on his face—already screaming inside, but no sound coming out?

"Medical team! Check his throat!"

The medical squad scans Garell’s throat with a portable scanner.

"Vocal cords are destroyed."

Ah. Even Lartel can’t extract information from a prisoner whose throat’s been shattered.

"Damn it. Got played!"

How the hell did we know he was Garell, being in the director’s office?

For starters, nobody’s ever sure if Garell’s male or female.

"Have all staff faces been photographed?"

"Yes. Sent to Ai for background verification."

"Compare this man’s face with the staff roster."

The captain uses his wristband to scan Garell’s face, initiating facial recognition.

Human faces—distance between eyes, balance of nose, mouth, ears—can still be matched even with disguise.

If my logic holds… then one of the staff…

"Idiotic... This guy's a clone of the staff!"

The captain's shout cuts through the air.

I peer at the holographic display projected from the captain's wristband.

There, on screen, is a match: ninety percent verification between the elderly staff member and the man before us.

Actually, facial recognition systems are far more advanced—capable of distinguishing even identical twins.

Differences in life experience—like sun damage from UV exposure—show up in the face.

Even with identical appearances, the distribution of freckles and sunspots, filtered through UV protection, looks entirely different.

Even identical twins show a ten percent discrepancy.

"Substitute all along. Accelerate the staff's scrutiny. No—wait."

Something clicks.

The man caught in the director's office wasn't the only one.

There was someone else—the one who refused to send an urgent message home, even though they'd just been rescued from kidnapping.

"Ayame, look up the researcher named Gear."

"No match found."

"Check with Keith A. Is Gear male?"

"Please wait a moment."

Ayame rushes to verify.

"Female, it says."

So that's it. Confirmed—she wasn't Gear. A decoy all along.

Which means... could it really be her?

"What's the age of Allison Skoll Heely?"

"22 when abducted. Now 27."

Looks her age. Can't confirm from appearance.

"Search for Allison Skoll Heely's face. Send it here."

"Sending. Please."

No way. That’s why they said not to contact Lord Heely...

Only one reason to lie.

"Allison Skoll Heely. No—wait. You're Gear, aren't you?"

The Lateral Ground Force surrounds Allison.

Allison blinks, staring at us, confused.

"Gear's a woman, apparently. The man in the director's office was just a clone set up as a decoy."

Allison finally grasped the situation at the队长's words.

"Ugh. I thought I'd buy myself a little more time."

"So you're admitting you're Gear, then?"

"Yeah. That's right."

Allison—no, Gear—shrugged casually and admitted it.

"Where's the real Allison?"

"You always ask about the victim first, even now."

"A victim... So she's already...?"

"Couldn't handle the kidnapping life. Took her own life."

"You're the one who brought this on, aren't you!"

"Not exactly..."

Gear's expression flickered with sadness for a moment, then returned to calm detachment.

"I'm Gear—the codename for the head of this research facility.

I'm definitely a victim, too. Ever heard of the True Empire?

It's what they call the anti-Imperial faction. I'm a geneticist from there."

I was kidnapped and made to undergo research, too.

And then, one day, Allison was brought in and killed herself...

Since then, I’ve been playing along, pretending to cooperate with them… just to protect us researchers.

"So, are you actually going to take the treatment for the clone seriously?"

Of course. But if I want to take revenge on them, I can't stay here.

We’ll have to keep playing nice with them—can’t let them get the upper hand.

"So you were hiding... preparing to run away?"

"When you leave the star system..."

I hesitated—should I say I’m a prince of the True Empire?

Could I really trust her that much?

But swallowed back the words that had already risen to his throat.

She tried to deceive us. Sacrificing the life of a clone duplicate to do it.

It's better to follow instincts like these.

No point telling you sooner. If it's proven trustworthy later, then I’ll let you know.

“We’re at odds with them over the Earthling abduction. I need your help here at the lab.”

“Understood. My identity’s out. No way to run now.”

“Treat the clones like people. That’s non-negotiable.”

“Consider it done.”

I waited for her next words—some line about the clone who’d taken my place in torture. Nothing came.

High alert. Watch her. Use her. Contact the True Empire—find out who she really is.

I reply, playing the fool—a naïve prince who doesn’t even realize he’s been duped.

“I’m handing the lab over to you. I’m counting on you with the clones.”

I didn’t miss the flicker of a smirk at the corner of her mouth.

Thanks for the read and the bookmark.

Means a lot. Keeps me writing.