The room was dim.
Only the surgical lights provided the necessary illumination.
A boy in his late teens stood there, sharp eyes focused. A head cover hid his silky hair. He wore a green surgical gown, stark against the red before him.
On the surgical table lay a patient in a hospital gown, deep in slumber.
She looked identical to her sister.
Despite that, 1011206 was strapped tightly, subjected to anesthesia to prevent any further mishaps.
A scalpel sliced through the skin—a precise, controlled cut.
It was terrifying how advanced the clones were, Zubair thought.
His mind began to wander.
I need to perfect my surgical skills.
This is just a clone.
But his thoughts wavered.
Though… she is the best clone so far. Both intellectually and emotionally.
A pause.
If she wasn't a clone… maybe we could be friends.
He clicked his tongue softly.
What useless thoughts. Forget it.
You don't need friends.
What you need are results… and approval.
The doors opened.
A girl in her late teens entered the operation theater. Her steps were firm, deliberate. She wore a green surgical gown, just like him.
Her gaze locked onto him.
"You're operating on her again," she said coldly.
"1011206."
Her voice echoed in the room.
Zubair stiffened for a moment before responding, his voice slightly muffled by the mask.
"Why are you here? Don't you feel uncomfortable?"
"Why would I?" she asked calmly.
A pause lingered between them.
"Is it because…" she tilted her head slightly, studying him, "our father should have thought more carefully before using his daughter's somatic cells as a donor?"
Her lips curved faintly.
"Wouldn't you agree… brother?"
Zubair's expression hardened.
"Later."
Just one word—but it was enough.
Zara understood.
"You promised," she said, before turning and leaving the room.
His eyes followed her until she disappeared.
He sighed and returned to his work, stitching the incision with steady hands. Once done, he carefully checked the instruments, ensuring nothing was left inside.
The surgical lights dimmed, replaced by softer LED illumination.
His gaze drifted to her neck.
1011206.
He paused.
He remembered the first time he saw her.
Back then, he had been a fool—mistaking her for Zara.
But his biggest mistake had been wandering alone… accidentally entering the restricted section of the facility.
There is no point thinking about it.
"Well… let's see what Zara wants."
He loosened the straps and removed them, then called for assistance to transfer her back.
While giving instructions, he didn't realise when—or how—he had reached the clone quarters.
The clones glanced at him.
He avoided their gaze.
"Is the check-up done?" Clone 2 asked softly.
She already knew the answer. Yet she deliberately softened her tone, trying to remain positive despite everything.
Whether it was a coping mechanism or her genuine nature… she persisted.
And it irritated him.
People like her are the most dangerous, he thought. When they break… they shatter completely.
"Yes," he replied shortly.
His eyes moved around the room.
Their living conditions had changed over the years.
"Back when I was seven, this place was renovated after the project changed hands. Now it's under my father, Zayd."
"I don't know if it's because they resemble Zara… or if he truly cares.
But their conditions have improved."
4180114 glared at him.
Trust no one.
The thought echoed within her.
Fawdaa—7280206—remained unbothered, calm as ever, when she was with us , her eyes softned, she missed her ;everyone did.
But 7280206 and 1011206 both suffered the most.
They are ancient, she thought, a faint smile forming—not of joy, but understanding.
Not in years.
In experience.
She turned to 3150512 with a small smile.
"How old are 7280206 and 1011206?"
"Huh—?" 3150512 frowned.
"Twenty, I guess. Why do you care?"
She had a haughty personality. Asking her anything was always a risk. You never knew when she would snap.
"Hey—don't get close to him. Don't even think about it," 3150512 warned.
Her eyes scanned for defiance.
"Ah…" she sighed.
"Look, 4180114 , you don't understand how things work."
"Then tell me," 4180114 pleaded.
"I will—but not now."
Her gaze shifted across the hall.
It had changed.
It was no longer a prison.
They now had individual rooms and a shared artificial garden at the center. Above them, LED lights formed a dome, mimicking the sky outside.
They tried to create a growing environment.
But a golden cage was still a cage.
She kept staring at Zubair.
He had changed out of his surgical gown, now wearing a white lab coat over a neatly ironed shirt and trousers, giving him a mature appearance.
Yet everyone knew he was still in his late teens.
And no one questioned it.
It was already difficult enough to strip them of their humanity—to treat these human-like beings as mere clones.
Only the strong-willed, the science-obsessed, and the hypocrites stayed longer than necessary… interacting with them as if it meant nothing.
Zubair left the area.
He headed toward his sister's research section.
Her space was separate—isolated from all disturbances.
"Zara is acknowledged by Father… yet she still complains," he muttered.
"You're here, Zubair," she said brightly.
She smiled.
But it never reached her eyes.
Zubair returned the same smile.
Both of them were calculating.
Zara studied him closely.
"You've grown quite thin. Have you been eating properly? And those dark circles…"
Zubair's face twitched.
"Yes, Zara. I have."
A pause.
"…Actually, never mind. Lying to you is pointless," he admitted. "Yes, I've been having trouble. So—will my amazing sister take care of me?" he smirked.
"No," she replied instantly.
"But—why don't you ask your favourite one? 1011206. "
Her tone was laced with sarcasm.
Her eyes remained fixed on him, analysing every reaction.
"Zara—" he began, anger rising.
"What?" she tilted her head. "Did that annoy you?"
His silence answered her.
"Don't forget," she said coldly, "eliminate all weakness."
She circled him slowly.
"If you're too weak… I'll do it for you."
"I'll leave you to it," she added, turning away.
"Wait—" he called out.
"What now?" Her composure began to crack.
"Uh…" Fear crept in. "…Nothing."
She raised an eyebrow.
"Really? Spit it out. I don't have time."
"You—why did you call me here?"
She wouldn't come just to warn me, he thought.
"You've become sharp," she smirked.
A pause.
"You're soft," she continued. "But don't worry—I'll make sure no one has a reason to target you."
She smiled.
Genuinely.
And that frightened him more than any threat ever could.