The room was quiet—except for the muffled groans of a certain unlucky clone.
On the floor sat Zayne, his hair a mess, clothes wrinkled, face swollen with purple bruises that made him look like he'd picked a fight with a mountain. Tears pricked at the corner of his eyes, more from humiliation than pain.
Across from him, Zane dusted off his hands, as if he'd just finished clapping away dirt. A satisfied smile curved his lips.
"That was refreshing…!"
Zayne sniffled, clutching his ribs dramatically. "I–I'm sorry, boss…"
Zane gave him a long look, his smile softening into a sigh.
"Don't act pitiful. Get up and heal yourself. You can patch up something like this in less than a second."
