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... essive kind that echoed with whispering shadows or distorted laughter. No.

This silence was clean. Empty.

Almost... peaceful.

He sat up in a bed he didn't recognize, inside a room that looked far too neat. White walls. Folded sheets. A single window letting in morning light that didn't flicker. Birds chirped outside. Birds. As if nothing had ever happened. As if the Pulse never existed.

He stared at his hands. No blood. No shaking. His watch... it wasn't glitching ...

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