Mike chuckled. "You're not that dumb after all."

Austin's voice cracked with shock. "You're experimenting on human beings?" He had suspected it, but the reality was still unbelievable. "No one in their right mind would conduct such experiments in this day and age. International condemnation would be swift and absolute. Who are these people? I never even realized it, working with them for so long."

Mike remained silent, staring coldly. His eyes, hidden behind glasses, were inscrutable.

"What are you looking at? Did I say something wrong? If you're experimenting on human beings, you're monsters! Worse than animals! You…" Austin's tirade faltered. His throat felt scorched, his heart pounded violently.

In all his years as a doctor, he had never experienced such profound, agonizing distress. His suffering intensified, then gradually subsided, leaving him drenched in sweat and utterly drained. He lay staring lethargically at the ceiling, speechless, as if already dead.

Mike finished writing, pushed his glasses up his nose, and said, "Your meal is on the table. Eat later." He left the room.

Austin remained motionless, seemingly lifeless.

Mike descended to Basement Level 3 in the elevator. The air was thick with the smell of disinfectant. He bypassed the morgue and entered a nearby room.

"Sir," he called.

A small man jumped from his chair. "What took you so long?"

"He responded slowly to the drug, so I waited," Mike explained, handing over a notebook.

The man impatiently scanned a few pages, then frowned. "This is all you have?"