"Now, I can answer your question. The answer is: Yes.
I am the president of the Umbrella Corporation—Alexander Roland Isaacs!"
Isaacs raised his wine glass and glanced at Alice, his tone calm yet carrying a smug undertone.
As he spoke, Isaacs circled the table, stopping directly in front of Alice. He stared into her eyes, his voice slow and deliberate.
"You must have seen my clones outside, haven't you? And your clones as well~!"
Alice instinctively shook her head, her gaze unsteady, her body subconsciously rejecting the question.
Seeing her reaction, Isaacs burst into laughter.
"Oh, come on, do you really think you're the original?
Haha, how adorable you are if you do!"
Isaacs' laughter dripped with mockery, his words cutting into Alice like a dagger.
"The original? I'm afraid that title belongs to her!"
He pointed toward a shadowy corner behind Alice, his expression eager to see her reaction.
The soft hum of an electric wheelchair echoed from the corridor. Emerging from the shadows was a frail, elderly woman who bore an uncanny resemblance to Alice, though her face was deeply etched with wrinkles.
The sight hit Alice like a thunderbolt. Her gaze faltered, emotions surging uncontrollably.
Isaacs, his tone brimming with false reverence, introduced the woman.
"Alicia Marcus, daughter of my old partner, James Marcus. She's the heir to the Umbrella Corporation and the thorn in my side that I've long wanted to remove!"
Alicia Marcus, with her short gray hair and feeble frame, maneuvered her wheelchair closer. She fixed Alice with a grave expression.
"Alice," she said, her voice weak but resolute, "he's completely lost his mind. You must kill him now!"
Isaacs feigned indifference, raising his wine glass in a mocking toast.
"It's a pleasure to see you too, Alicia," he sneered.
Despite being Umbrella's largest shareholder, holding 50% of its stock, Alicia was afflicted with an incurable condition—progeria—that caused premature aging and left her with little time.
Isaacs had spared her life only to let her witness the downfall of her futile schemes.
He turned back to Alice, his smirk growing wider.
"Alicia's disease caused her father, James Marcus, to create the T-virus in a desperate bid to save her. But it was only a temporary solution.
While waiting for her inevitable death, we began the process of creating your clones."
Alice, her world shaken to its core, could scarcely believe his words. Her voice trembled as she spoke.
"I'm not... I'm not a clone!
Night, tell me I'm not a clone!"
Night, moved by her distress, gently smoothed Alice's disheveled hair. His voice was warm and steady as he reassured her.
"Alice, you are you. Unique. Irreplaceable. There's no one else like you in this world."
Then, he turned his gaze to Isaacs, his expression hardening.
An oppressive force suddenly enveloped the room, bearing down on Isaacs and nearly driving him to his knees.
Isaacs staggered, his confident facade crumbling as fear filled his eyes.
"As a villain," Night said coldly, "I've already indulged you enough, letting you monologue to your heart's content.
But as the saying goes, villains meet their end through their own arrogance.
Rain!"
At Night's command, Rain rolled up her sleeves and charged forward without hesitation.
Isaacs, sensing the oppressive force lift, scrambled back, his advanced predictive system working overtime. Yet his confidence wavered—Rain moved too quickly.
"Wait~!" Isaacs panicked, reaching for his safeguard—the antivirus serum—only to find it gone.
Looking up, he saw the vial already in Night's hand, and despair washed over him.
Rain wasted no time, leaping forward. Her fist hurtled toward Isaacs with devastating force.
"It's useless! I can predi—"
Before Isaacs could finish, her punch landed squarely, knocking him unconscious. He collapsed in a heap, twitching, foam bubbling at the corners of his mouth.
"Ha! Predict all you want, but are you fast enough?"
Rain smirked disdainfully, pulling out her gun. With a single, clean shot, she ended Isaacs' life.
No need to dig a grave.
Returning to Night's side, Rain stood like a silent sentinel.
Alicia Marcus, relieved at Isaacs' demise, maneuvered her wheelchair toward the control panel. Her gaze fell on Alice, her expression solemn.
"You were created in my image," Alicia began, her voice soft but steady. "But you're also the culmination of my father's work. In a way, he's your father as well.
You've met the Red Queen, haven't you? Her appearance and voice were derived from recordings of me as a child."
The wall-sized screen flickered to life, displaying footage of a young girl—identical to the Red Queen—playing and lying on a hospital bed.
"Your genetic structure comes from my DNA, but the gene for progeria was removed.
The face you see in the mirror... is the adult version of how I might have looked."
Alice stared at the screen, emotions swirling. For the first time, she confronted the truth: she was a clone.
Turning to Alicia Marcus, the frail woman who was her original, Alice felt a strange sense of connection.
"You're far stronger than I ever was," Alicia said, her voice trembling with emotion.
"I caused all of this.
I was too weak.
But you—don't become like me. You must end this nightmare!"
Her face was etched with regret and guilt.
Alice, overwhelmed, turned to Night for support. His warm smile steadied her, like a beacon in the darkness.
"You are you, Alice," he said firmly. "An individual. Unique and irreplaceable.
You may not have a childhood, but you have a future—and you have us."
Bolstered by his words, Alice straightened her posture.
Clone or not, she was Alice.
She had her past, her present, and now—a future to fight for.
(Chapter End)
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