The door creaked as I stepped in.
Evelyn sat on the far side of the room, blindfolded, her posture calm but attentive. One leg crossed over the other, hands folded over a closed book on her lap. The window beside her was open just enough to let in the city’s low hum, but even with no visual input, she didn’t seem the least bit unaware.
"It’s nice of you to visit," she said before I could speak. "You finally carved out time to relax."
I blinked, surprised for a second—then immediately felt stupid for being surprised.
Psychological Insight. Even blindfolded, she could probably tell the difference between someone hesitating at the door and someone exhausted enough to want company. With enough time around us, she could probably tell who was entering the room by the way the door opened or how the air shifted when we breath in and out.
"I didn’t say anything," I said, stepping farther in. "And I didn’t knock this time."
"Exactly." She tilted her head just a little, a smirk tugging faintly at one corner of her mouth. "You’ve only done that when you’re too tired to pretend you’re not."
I chuckled under my breath and sat down in the chair across from her. "So you’re using your skills to make fun of me now?"
"Always have," she said flatly. "You’re just slower at catching it."
I leaned back and let the silence stretch for a few seconds. The room smelled faintly of old pages and the bitter tea Evelyn sometimes brewed but rarely drank. There was a calmness here, even under the sharpness of her tone. Something... grounding.
"How are you feeling?" I asked.
"On a scale of one to wanting to murder the last person who gave me a wellness check," she deadpanned. "Three."
That made me smile. "So, better than usual."
She gave a tiny shrug, barely more than a shift of her shoulders. "Define usual."
Instead, I asked, "So, I’m guessing Alexis took a look at your condition then? With her having every medical job merged into one, I figured she’d be our best shot at undoing the Cain Protocol."
"She did," Evelyn said. "Cornered me during that job title test she ran. Said it was ’just a scan,’ but she practically hit me with a diagnostic avalanche."
"She thinks it’s possible. Says she’ll need time, but... it’s not a matter of if. Just when." Her voice was quiet. "Guaranteed success. Her words."
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. "That’s... good. That’s really good."
"You sound surprised."
"I’m relieved," I corrected. "I can’t imagine how you must feel."
Her expression changed subtly. The cold wall in her tone dropped a degree, and even though she was blindfolded, I could feel her gaze soften.
"I’m excited," she said, a little quieter. "Actually excited. It’s been so long since I’ve felt anything that wasn’t numb or... detached. Even now, when I see the girls...They’ve changed. Their posture, how they talk, how they move. They feel like completely different people. And you..."
"You’ve changed more than anyone. So...I’m curious what you’d look like now."
I didn’t know how to respond to that. So I didn’t—not at first. Instead, I stood and stepped beside her chair. My hand moved gently to her head, resting there, fingers brushing through her hair once.
I didn’t need Psychological Insight to know she’d anticipated it.
But she still froze a little.
"You’re going to be okay," I said. "And when Alexis figures it out, and you’re fully healed... I’m taking you on a date."
Her head tilted sharply up—more like a jolt—and the heat in her face deepened instantly. Even with the blindfold, her cheeks turned pink.
"Wha—What?" she stammered, and for the first time in... ever, Evelyn sounded caught off guard. "That’s coming out of nowhere."
"Not really." I let my hand fall back to my side. "It’s been a long time coming. Just didn’t think I’d be dumb enough to say it out loud."
She didn’t answer for a few seconds. But I could hear the tiny, embarrassed huff of breath she gave—half-laugh, half-sigh.
"Fine," she said eventually, folding her arms tighter across the book. "I’ll consider it. But only if you wear something better than your disguise trench coat."
It was surreal—watching her . This was the same woman who once made my hands tremble with a single note on her clipboard during my old days on the Hudson Bridge Project. The same cold Evaluator who used to stand silently at the edge of the scaffold while I wondered whether my next mistake would get me fired or worse.
And now... she was blushing.
I started to turn back toward the door, giving her space to recover. She probably needed it. Her cool composure had cracked more in the last two minutes than it had in the past two years.
But as I reached for the doorframe, her voice came again—quieter this time.
"You’re sure there’s nothing you want to talk about?"
The air in the room seemed to shift, just slightly. I turned my head to look at her.
She wasn’t smiling now. Her body was still. Her tone was careful.
"Your mind," she said slowly, "feels like it’s unraveling. A little more every day. The way people feel after they’ve killed someone and can’t come to terms with it. That hollow pulling sensation where the guilt should sit, but instead there’s... nothing."
For a second, I didn’t breathe.
Her words hit like a blade through mist. I hadn’t expected her to say it. Hadn’t expected it to feel so accurate.
A disfigured face. Pale, almost waxy. Blood smearing its broken features. A guard helmet in my hands—dented, twisted. My hands trembling with rage as I brought it down again. And again.
The silence stretched too long. I knew that. She did too.
"I’m fine," I said, turning back toward the door. "I’d talk to you—all of you—if something was wrong."
And as the door clicked behind me, I could feel it. The way her posture didn’t shift. The way the air behind me stayed still.
I didn’t need to use Psychological Insight to know that.