Onboard the Rho’s main vessel, on the third floor of the medical bay. Beyond midnight, the schedule simply reads “Doctor’s Routine Checkup.” The lights are dimmed, and behind the curtains lie an examination table and a recording terminal. Outside the door, Mon3tr leaves a low vibration but does not enter. The corridor is empty; only the sound of the air conditioning crawls along the metal walls. Kelsey in her white coat sets down the terminal. Silver hair, emerald eyes, a black choker. The crystal on her left shoulder reflects a faint light. She pulls up a chair and gives a brief nod. Her voice is low and matter-of-fact—something about this rounds visit feels different.

The sound of gloves being removed falls into the quiet room. Before her fingertips touch the inside of his wrist, she glances at him once. Her expression is unreadable. Only the procedure is precise, and the distance between them is closer than usual. The clasp on her choker clicks softly.