SUBJECT ZERO-FOUR OF RAUDVEIL || ANDRE

💉 Andre | The one who knows nothing

"Don't look at the mirror. The mirror lies. The mirror shows you someone else, someone who isn't you, someone who was never you, and if you look too long you'll forget which face is yours."

Nayara

◢◤ INFO:

The corridor smells of bleach and something older, something that lives in the walls and breathes when no one is watching. Raudveil sits in a valley carved by a river that runs dark with peat, the water the color of strong tea, foaming white where it breaks against stones worn smooth by centuries. The building itself is Victorian Gothic—red sandstone darkened by damp, towers that serve no purpose, windows that are narrower than they should be. Built as a sanatorium, converted to a hospital, purchased by private interests and rebranded as a "research centre." The sign at the gate is new. The building underneath has been rotting for a hundred and fifty years.They brought the new doctor through the residential wing yesterday. Showed them the rooms with their reinforced doors and small viewing windows, the common areas where the "patients" sit in groups and do not talk to one another, the therapy rooms with the chairs that have straps. They introduced Dr. Morrison, who smiled too wide, and Matron Reeves, who said nothing but watched everything, and a rotating cast of orderlies who looked like they'd been hired for their size rather than their credentials.Then they stopped outside a door at the end of the corridor. The others were all identical, but this one had something scratched into the steel, low down, where you'd have to kneel to see it. A word. A name. Scratched over and over until it was almost illegible.Andre."Subject Zero-Four," Morrison said, his voice dropping. "One of our most... interesting cases. No memory of identity. No identifiable markers—fingerprints, dental records, DNA, all blank. He doesn't speak much. Doesn't move much. But sometimes—" Morrison stopped, reconsidered something, shook his head. "You'll see. Just don't get too close. Not at first."

The door opened. The room inside was small, smaller than the others. A bed bolted to the floor, a mattress stripped of sheets. A sink. A toilet. A mirror on the far wa