Ethan looked at Gérard with genuine incomprehension.
He stood opposite him, arms hanging loosely at his sides, gaze direct but not aggressive.
Simply deep, like a well.
"Tell me what you remember about that night."
Ethan slowly lowered his gaze, as though gathering thoughts from scattered shards.
"Nothing," he answered quietly.
"I don't remember anything from that night at all. I don't even know which night you're talking about…"
He paused, as if trying to pull a memory out of fog. His fingers tightened slightly, then relaxed at once.
"I said things I don't remember saying.
People around… shouting, perhaps…"
Laurent watched, leaning against the wall,posture relaxed, but his eyes seemed to be trying to read Ethan.
"And the name?" he asked quietly.
"You spoke a name. Do you remember it?"
Ethan's heart struck once,hard, sharp,but the wisteria immediately smoothed the spike.
He frowned just enough to make it look natural.
"I'm not sure…" He closed his eyes for a second.
"It's like a dream. Like I keep saying,I don't remember anything."
Of course Ethan was lying as much as possible so they wouldn't uncover the truth.
Gérard took a step closer; the distance between them shrank to arm's length.
"Try to remember," he said softly.
"You clearly know something. I just don't understand why I can't read you,even when touching you. You're not one of us…"
A faint vibration appeared in his voice,thin, almost imperceptible pressure, like light fingers brushing against temples.
Ethan felt it: as though someone were gently but insistently pushing at the door of his mind.
The wisteria flowed through his blood like an invisible filter, blocking anyone who had just tried to slip into his thoughts or implant anything.
Gérard fell silent for a fraction of a second.
His gaze sharpened,as though he had spotted a crack in glass.
"Strange," he said quietly.
Laurent straightened instantly.
"What?"
"His emotions… are muted," Gérard said.
"Too clean. As though he's actively suppressing me. Quite an impressive skill for a human."
Elizabeth, who had entered almost soundlessly behind them, tilted her head; her heels gave a soft click against the parquet.
"I feel it too," she said.
"There's nothing familiar, and that's very strange.
No fear, no guilt. It's as though you're one of us."
She stepped almost uncomfortably close; her breath brushed Ethan's cheek,light, cold.
"Have you taken anything?" she asked softly, though her eyes were icy.
"Just coffee," Ethan replied, allowing a faint smile to touch his lips.
"And maybe I didn't sleep enough. Nothing more."
Roy stepped forward quickly.
"Elizabeth," his voice hardened.
"I worked with him personally.
I made sure he forgot,every single detail."
He looked at Gérard; his gaze was confident.
"He passed every check,biometrics, even the blood scan."
Elizabeth didn't take her eyes off Ethan.
"I feel you," she said.
"As though there's a barrier between my mind and yours."
"It infuriates me."
"That's called adaptation," Roy answered calmly.
"He accepted everything as it is and simply moved on."
Gérard raised a hand,the gesture light, yet it silenced everyone instantly.
"Enough."
He looked at Ethan again.
"Tell me one thing," he said more quietly.
"If you remembered something… would you be afraid?"
A second.
"No," Ethan answered.
"Why not?"
"Because then it would be the past."
"And I've already made my choice. I live one day at a time,besides, I need to get back to the restaurant for work."
Gérard studied his face.
Behind the glass wall, screens lit up; red countdown numbers began their backward march.
10:00
9:59
9:58
The digits glowed coldly, like indicators on a bomb.
Outside on stage, the host was announcing the imminent start of the speaking block,his voice bright and professional.
Roy glanced at the timer.
"It's time."
Laurent pushed off the wall.
"I'll stay close," he said calmly.
"Of course," Gérard replied.
He moved toward the door but paused before stepping out,without turning.
"Ethan," he said quietly.
"You go on immediately after me."
Outside, the hum of anticipation was already rising,like the breath of a crowd just before it leaps.
8:12
8:11
8:10
Elizabeth lingered a second longer than the rest.
She stepped very close; her fingers brushed Ethan's sleeve,light, almost tender.
"If I sense any interference," she whispered,
"we won't be talking."
She left.
The door closed.
For a moment Ethan was alone in the room with the red countdown on the screen.
He exhaled slowly; the breath came out quiet, releasing.
Beyond the door the host's voice announced:
"Live broadcast in eight minutes."
Ethan looked at his reflection in the glass. He straightened his tie and stepped toward the door.
The music changed unexpectedly.
After the formal part, the orchestra shifted to a slow, almost intimate motif. Violins drew out a lingering melody; the muted rhythm of percussion set a gentle pulse.
The lighting grew warmer. Tension didn't disappear,it simply disguised itself as polite evening conversation.
Roy stood below the stage, not applauding. His gaze was no longer relaxed. He watched Ethan too intently,as though he had spotted the faintest ripple on an otherwise perfectly smooth surface.
And it was at that exact moment that she stepped out from the crowd.