MistNovel - Read Web Novel Stories & Fiction Online

The next day came without a sunrise. The room had no windows, no connection to the outside world, no way to mark the passage of time except for the digital clock on a monitor that blinked with indifferent precision. Victoria had tried to sleep after Aster left, but rest felt impossible in this place where even the air tasted filtered and artificial. She had spent hours just listening, trying to parse the muffled sounds of the facility beyond her door.
The door slid open at precisely eight o’clock. A different nurse entered, this one male and just as silent as the first. He brought a breakfast tray, the food arranged with a geometric precision that suggested it had been calculated rather than cooked. Precisely measured protein cubes, a colorful array of vitamin supplements, and a smoothie in an unmarked, frosted bottle.
"Can I have my phone, please?" Victoria asked, her voice steady despite the tremor of fear in her gut.
He did not respond. He simply set the tray on the rolling table, his movements economical and detached, and then departed. The door sealed behind him, followed by that same soft, definitive click of the magnetic lock. The finality of it echoed in the silence.
This time, fury overcame the fear. She pushed the table aside with a clatter, the calculated meal sloshing in its containers. She went to the door, a smooth, featureless white surface with no handle, no keypad, nothing on her side. She pressed her palm flat against it, then her entire body, searching for a sensor or a hidden seam. Nothing happened. It was as solid and unyielding as a tomb wall.
Do not panic, she told herself, forcing a slow, measured breath. This is probably a standard procedure. Patient safety. High-profile guest.
But the rationalizations felt thin and brittle.
She spent the next hour conducting a meticulous, desperate search of her cage. The walls were seamless, curving into the floor and ceiling as if the room had been molded from a single piece of polymer. The monitors were built into recessed panels she could not access. Even the attached bathroom, a smaller space with the same sterile aesthetic, had no exterior windows or emergency exits. Everything was designed to keep her contained. She felt a flicker of memory, an imagined fantasy of her public relations team crafting a statement about her "much-needed rest," and the thought made her feel less like a person and more like a volatile asset being managed.
When Aster returned at noon, she was sitting on the edge of the bed, her arms crossed, the untouched breakfast tray a testament to her silent rebellion.
"I want to leave," she said, her voice devoid of its usual melody.
"Tori, you just got here. We have not even run half the tests yet." He set his sleek tablet on the counter, his expression one of puzzled concern. "I know it is not the presidential suite, but…"
"The door locks from the outside, Aster. I cannot call anyone. You have my phone, my tablet, everything." She stood, planting her feet to match his height, a performer claiming her space. "I am not a patient. I am a prisoner."
"That is a bit dramatic, even for you." His laugh was soft, a dismissive puff of air. "The lock is a standard security measure. You are Victoria Alston. Do you have any idea what your safety is worth in financial terms? The Institute has protocols for guests of your profile."
"Then let me call my own doctor. Let me talk to Eira."
"Your sister is being briefed by your management. She knows you are safe." Aster picked up his tablet, swiping through screens of her data. "As for other doctors, I am your doctor. I have been since we were children, remember? I have always looked out for you."
The reminder landed exactly as he intended, a subtle weapon wrapped in nostalgia. Aster had been there for everything, from childhood scraped knees to her first panic attack before a major audition. He had held her hand through her mother's funeral and helped her navigate the disorienting first days of fame. He was her oldest friend.
So why does this feel so wrong?
"I just want to know what is happening to me," Victoria said, softening her tone, trying a different key. "The vision I had on stage felt so real. What if it is not just exhaustion?"
"Then we will figure it out together." Aster’s smile returned, warm and seemingly reassuring. "But you have to trust me, Tori. Trust the science. Everything we do here is for your benefit."
He left shortly after, and the door slid shut. Click. Locked in again. Victoria stared at the calculated lunch that had been left for her, each bite a small act of compliance. Outside her prison, she could hear the muffled sounds of footsteps and quiet voices discussing readings and protocols. She was not a person here. She was a subject. A specimen.
And from a place deeper than memory, a whisper of a thought that was not hers warned her that she had been imprisoned before, in a different life, in a much different cage.