I should have walked away.
That thought came the moment he said it.
"They don't."
Simple.
Calm.
Final.
People didn't refuse.
Not here.
My eyes stayed on the screen, but I wasn't really seeing the data anymore.
Names blurred.
Numbers lost meaning.
Because one truth had already settled in.
This wasn't optional.
Not for my sister.
Not for me.
My fingers curled slightly at my side as I forced myself to breathe slowly.
"This isn't legal," I said.
The words sounded weak the moment they left my mouth.
Because even I didn't believe they mattered here.
He didn't respond.
Didn't argue.
Didn't correct me.
That silence confirmed it.
Whatever this was—
It didn't follow rules I understood.
I stepped closer to the screen again.
Closer than before.
Close enough to see details I had missed.
Profiles weren't just names.
They were built.
Structured.
Psychological patterns.
Behavioral predictions.
Not just who these women were—
But who they could become.
My chest tightened.
"This is selection," I said slowly.
More to myself than to him.
"Not compatibility."
Still nothing from him.
That was becoming a pattern.
He only spoke when it mattered.
And right now—
He was letting me see.
That was more dangerous than anything he could have said.
I swallowed slightly.
"And if someone doesn't fit?" I asked.
My voice dropped.
Quieter.
Careful.
A pause.
"They are adjusted," he said.
The words were calm.
Too calm.
"Adjusted?" I repeated.
My chest tightened again.
That wasn't a word you used for people.
That was a word you used for systems.
For errors.
For things that needed to be corrected.
I turned to look at him.
"What does that mean?" I asked.
For a moment—
He didn't answer.
Then—
"They are guided," he said.
That wasn't better.
That was worse.
Because it meant control without force.
Control that felt like choice.
And that—
That was harder to fight.
My thoughts shifted quickly.
To my sister.
To everything I thought I knew about her.
Her independence.
Her stubbornness.
Her refusal to follow anything blindly.
"She wouldn't accept this," I said.
More certain now.
"She would fight it."
A pause.
Then—
"She did."
My breath caught.
I turned fully toward him now.
"And?" I asked.
This time—
I needed the answer.
Not later.
Not indirectly.
Now.
Silence.
Long enough to feel deliberate.
Then—
"She stopped playing by the rules," he said.
That wasn't relief.
That wasn't safety.
That was a warning.
My chest tightened.
"And what happened after that?"
Another pause.
This one heavier.
More controlled.
Then—
"She made herself a problem."
The words settled coldly.
A problem.
Not a person.
Not a victim.
A problem.
My fingers tightened again.
"And problems get…" I started.
I didn't finish.
I didn't need to.
Because I already knew.
"They are removed," he said.
My stomach dropped.
The room felt smaller.
Tighter.
Like the air itself had shifted.
"Is she alive?" I asked.
The question came out before I could stop it.
Too fast.
Too exposed.
For a moment—
He didn't answer.
And that silence—
That silence was worse than anything he could have said.
"She's alive," I said again.
This time, not a question.
A demand.
His gaze held mine.
"For now."
The words hit harder than anything else.
Because they weren't emotional.
They weren't defensive.
They were factual.
Controlled.
Real.
And that meant—
She wasn't safe.
Not fully.
Not anymore.
Something inside me shifted.
Not fear.
Something sharper.
More focused.
Because now—
This wasn't just about understanding.
It was about action.
"You're part of this," I said.
My voice didn't shake.
Didn't hesitate.
Not anymore.
"You're not just watching it."
A step closer.
"You're controlling it."
Silence.
Then—
"Partially," he said.
That single word changed everything.
Not denial.
Not defense.
Acceptance.
And that—
That was the line.
The one I crossed without realizing it.
Because instead of stepping back—
Instead of walking away—
Instead of choosing safety—
I stayed.
I looked back at the screen.
At the system.
At the structure.
At the truth I had just uncovered.
And instead of rejecting it—
I started trying to understand it.
And that was the moment I knew—
I had gone too far.
Not physically.
Mentally.
Because I wasn't just asking questions anymore.
I was stepping into the logic behind them.
And once you understood something like this—
You couldn't pretend it didn't exist.
You couldn't walk away the same.
You couldn't go back.
I turned to him one last time.
And for the first time—
I didn't see just a man standing in front of me.
I saw someone who was part of something bigger.
Something controlled.
Something dangerous.
And somehow—
I was already inside it.