Read Novel Full Chapter 1014 Checkup
Chapter 1014: Chapter 1014 Checkup
Karen looked around her room and sighed softly, the sound barely audible in the still air.
The walls were smooth and metallic, without a single window or hint of the outside world.
There was no sunrise, no moonlight, only the constant hum of machinery buried somewhere deep in the walls.
She rubbed her arms and tried to calm her thoughts. There really was no other choice left.
Whatever freedom she’d once had ended the moment she was brought here.
Taking a slow breath, she stood and walked to the tall cabinet near the far wall.
When she opened it, a small gust of cold air brushed her face. Inside were several neatly folded sets of clothes—jackets, shirts, boots, and even accessories, all arranged as if waiting specifically for her.
Whoever prepared them knew her size, her preferences, even the way she tied her hair.
The realization made her uneasy.
"This place..." she murmured. "It’s too much."
The room was absurdly large for one person—bigger than her entire apartment back in Parkland.
She glanced toward the far end, where a minimalist bed sat under a soft blue light.
The walls gleamed faintly, reflecting her movement as she walked, and she wondered just how deep underground they really were.
They said the base was near Parkland City, but beyond that, no one knew the exact location.
It was as if they had been erased from the world above.
Karen sighed again, a sound that carried both frustration and fear.
She pulled out a simple black jacket and a matching cap from the cabinet and slipped them on.
The fabric was oddly comfortable—too comfortable, as if made from something more advanced than normal cloth.
She adjusted the collar, took a deep breath, and headed for the door.
The hallway outside was dimly lit, the overhead lights pulsing faintly every few seconds.
The metallic walls stretched endlessly in both directions, cold and sterile.
It felt like walking inside the belly of some enormous machine.
Her footsteps echoed softly, reminding her just how alone she was down here.
The silence pressed against her ears until—
"Please follow me."
The sudden voice made her jump, her heart leaping to her throat.
She spun around, eyes wide, scanning the corridor.
"W-where are you?"
From the shadows, a shape emerged—a tall, broad-shouldered figure who moved with measured precision.
As he stepped into the weak light, she saw the gleam of armor plating and the matte black of a uniform.
His entire face was concealed beneath a sleek, high-tech helmet with a tinted visor that revealed nothing of the person beneath.
Karen took a nervous step back. "You scared me," she said, her voice barely steady.
The man didn’t respond.
The faint hum from his helmet’s built-in respirator was the only sound between them.
Then, with a slow, mechanical turn of his head, he gestured toward the corridor ahead.
"Please follow me," he repeated, this time with a sharper tone—polite but commanding, a voice that carried the weight of discipline and authority.
Karen hesitated, her pulse still racing.
She swallowed hard, pulling her jacket tighter around her.
"Fine," she said quietly. "Lead the way."
The man turned and began walking, his boots making precise, heavy thuds on the metallic floor.
Karen followed a few steps behind, trying to match his pace.
As they moved deeper into the corridor, the lights dimmed even further, and the air grew colder.
Strange hums echoed from behind the walls—machines working, vents breathing, perhaps something more alive.
After a while, she dared to ask, "Where are we going? Where is Ross?"
The man gave no answer.
His visor flickered faintly with blue light, perhaps scanning, recording, or transmitting.
Karen frowned and looked away. She didn’t know whether to feel watched or protected.
The man guided Karen through a labyrinth of dimly lit corridors, his steps silent yet deliberate, as if he had memorized every twist and turn of the bunker.
The walls pressed in slightly, metallic and cold, reflecting the faint glow of emergency lights overhead.
Most of the people in here were asleep, their quiet breaths and distant murmurs echoing faintly down the hallways.
Occasionally, someone stirred, and the man would subtly adjust their path, keeping them hidden in the shadows.
Karen’s heart pounded with every movement, every step feeling heavier than the last, as if the walls themselves were pressing her toward the inevitable.
The walk lasted barely five minutes, yet to Karen it felt like an eternity.
Her palms were clammy, and every instinct screamed for her to turn back, to run, to somehow escape this subterranean maze.
But the man’s steady pace and unwavering presence kept her moving forward, even as the fear in her chest grew.
Finally, they reached a reinforced door, one that seemed far heavier than the others.
Its surface was matte, unyielding, and there was an almost imperceptible vibration in the air, like power humming just beneath the steel.
"He’s inside," the man said quietly, his voice devoid of emotion but carrying authority.
Without another word, he pivoted, melted into the shadows, and vanished as if he had never been there.
Karen blinked, the emptiness of the corridor swallowing him instantly.
Her hand hovered over the handle, trembling slightly despite her effort to steady herself.
She drew a slow, shaky breath, trying to summon the courage she knew she needed.
Her pulse thundered in her ears, every beat echoing the apprehension and anticipation swirling inside her.
Finally, she turned the handle and pushed the door open.
Inside, the room was startlingly familiar.
The walls were bare but polished, the floor smooth, the lighting soft but precise, and the furniture minimal yet functional—almost identical to her own quarters.
The sense of symmetry was unsettling.
It made her realize that all the rooms in this underground bunker were likely designed the same way, each one sterile, controlled, and intimate in its own quiet way.
And there, standing at the small table, was Ross.
He exuded an effortless dominance, his posture relaxed but commanding.
In his hand was a glass of wine, which he drained to the last drop with a single, fluid motion.
The faint clink of the empty glass on the table seemed to reverberate through the room, announcing his presence in a way nothing else could.