As Ayelen drove back to Asphodel, her mind churned with an unbearable mix of disbelief and fury. The revelation that her father had experimented on Cedric—it felt unreal. And yet, a part of her wasn't surprised. She'd known that Marcus Sutterfeld loved his work above all else. She just never thought "all else" included his own children.

The doctor's words looped through her mind like a sinister echo, dredging up memories she'd buried long ago. Each memory only reinforced what was starting to feel like the truth. If Father had truly done this to Cedric—and when he was so young—it was to let those enhancements root deep, to grow within his mind like a parasite.

But as shocking as it was, what haunted her most was the thought that her mother might have known.

Her heart ached, but anger bubbled to the surface as she pulled into her driveway. She raced inside, her footsteps echoing through the silent apartment. She found her mother sitting in the kitchen, gazing out the window at the city center lights that never dimmed, casting Asphodel in a permanent, cold glow.

"Please," Ayelen said, barely able to contain the tremor in her voice. "Tell me you didn't know what Father did to Cedric."

Her mother turned slowly, her expression a mix of shock and sadness. But Ayelen saw it—the flicker of recognition. She knew.

"Cedric's condition has nothing to do with the accident," Ayelen pressed, her voice rising. "It's because of Father—your husband—putting things inside his brain."

Her mother's mouth opened, the words caught somewhere between her heart and her voice. Ayelen's patience snapped. She slammed her fist against the wall, the deaf sound of it cursing the room.

"TELL ME!"

"Ayelen, my child... What are you saying?"

"Don't lie to me!" Ayelen's voice was a knife's edge, cutting through the air. "I know the truth. Father did something terrible to Cedric, and if you want to help save him, you'll tell me everything."

Tears welled in her mother's eyes as a quiet sob escaped her, her voice catching in her throat. "This... was supposed to protect you both. It was never supposed to end like this."

"What? Protect us?" The words felt hollow in her mouth.

Her mother nodded, eyes distant, like she was slipping back into the past. She gestured for Ayelen to sit, and slowly, the girl's anger gave way to a grim curiosity. She took a seat beside her mother, who seemed to have been holding back this story for years.

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"Your father was... driven. He wanted to be the greatest scientist of his generation, maybe of all time. He admired your grandfather, Hiroshi, but Hiroshi never thought Marcus's ideas were 'good enough.'" Her mother's voice wavered. "Hiroshi cast a long shadow, and all your father ever wanted was to prove himself."

Ayelen's anger dimmed further, curiosity and a faint pity taking its place. "So he thought... he thought we'd make him great?" she asked, her voice soft.

Her mother nodded. "When you were born, Hiroshi didn't think you or Cedric would have the high intelligence he prized. But Marcus refused to accept that. He became obsessed with finding a way to 'improve' you both. He swore his enhancements would be harmless, that you'd never even notice. I tried to talk him out of it, but he was... relentless. And he made me swear not to tell anyone."

Her mother's voice broke, trembling as if the years of silence were too heavy to bear.

"Did he... ever stop?" Ayelen whispered, dreading the answer.

"After Cedric was born, I thought he had. I fell ill, and Marcus was swept into the Holodream Project with Hiroshi. For a moment, it felt like a blessing. I thought he'd moved on. But instead, his obsession grew. He began to see you both as more than just his children—as the only ones who could survive the machine." Her mother's gaze drifted to a memory only she could see. "When Cedric was two and you were six, he took you both on a trip. When you came home, you had these... marks behind your ears."

Instinctively, Ayelen reached up, her fingers brushing the faint scar hidden beneath her hairline. It was a mark she'd grown up with, one she'd never thought to question.

"I asked him about it, but he said it was just a harmless device to help with your development. And I believed him." Her mother's face crumpled as tears spilled down her cheeks. "I was such a fool."

"How... How could you not see what he was doing?" Ayelen's voice shook, half with anger, half with a dawning sense of betrayal.

Her mother's voice was barely more than a whisper. "Because I loved him, Ayelen. I trusted him. I thought he wanted the best for you."

Ayelen sat in silence, torn between anger and an aching pity. Despite everything, she couldn't bring herself to hate the woman sitting beside her. It was hard to hate someone who had been broken by the very same man.

"I'm sorry," her mother whispered, her voice cracking. "I should have... I should have stopped him. I should have protected you both."

"Stop," Ayelen cut her off. "The past is done, and guilt won't save Cedric. If I don't find a way to save him, he'll die. And there's only one way left."

Her mother's eyes widened in horror. "You mean... the Holodream Project?"

Ayelen nodded, determination hardening her gaze. "For better or worse, I have the brain he engineered. I can finish what they started. But I need to know everything. If there's anything left, anything that might help Cedric, please... tell me."

Her mother took a long, shuddering breath, as if summoning the strength to go on. Finally, she nodded, standing up slowly.

"There's something. Wait here."

Ayelen's heart pounded as her mother disappeared down the hall, climbing up to the attic where Cedric's room had remained untouched. She returned a moment later, holding an old notebook—a paper notebook, something rare and strange in their digital world. She handed it to Ayelen, her hands trembling.

"This was your grandfather's. One of the last of its kind. He gave it to your father, but the pages Hiroshi wrote himself are gone, torn out. What's left are your father's notes, but... they're in a language I don't understand. Maybe you can find something useful."

Ayelen held the notebook to her chest, feeling its weight. Another riddle. Another layer in an already impossible puzzle.

"Thank you, Mother," she said softly, then headed to her room, her mind spinning with questions. There was no time to rest—not yet. She had somewhere to go.

Before leaving, she scanned each page of the notebook, uploading them to a cryptography database. The analysis would take time, but she hoped it might yield something.

When the program finally returned an answer, she felt a pang of disappointment. No matches found. Not in any known language or code. The notebook was a mystery, its contents locked away, either unbreakable or written in something Hiroshi and Marcus had invented.

Frustration simmered beneath her exhaustion. This notebook held secrets, and now more than ever, she was determined to uncover them. Whatever was inside, she was willing to risk everything to find it.