No pain.
No visible issue.
But that didn't align.
Not with what had been described.
Not with what should have been there.
Nearly thirty minutes passed like that, the routine continuing, data collected, observations made. Plachel said very little during the process, but the way he moved—the extra glances at the screen, the slight pauses before the next instruction—made it clear he wasn't seeing what he expected to see.
Eventually, he stepped back.
"That's fine," he said, more to the staff than to Lukas. Then he turned toward him. "You can go."
Lukas sat up, removing the remaining straps as instructed, then slid off the table. He stood, testing his weight again, shifting slightly from one leg to the other.
Still nothing.
No pain.
He nodded once, more to himself than anyone else, then headed toward the adjoining room.
As he stepped through the door, he stopped briefly.
Topmöller was there.
