The Genius of Cloning in the Academy City

Chapter 359




Interrogation Room

In the dark interrogation room, with a single flickering light casting an eerie glow, a girl with black bobbed hair was tied to a chair in the center.

As the time arrived, Unit 9021 gave her a gentle poke.

“Wake up.”

“Ugh… Where am I… I was going to sleep… Don’t wake me up…”

She mumbled in her sleep, burying her face against the table and sniffling.

“You’re not waking up, huh?”

Suddenly, memories of dorm life came flooding back to me. Daphne used to wake us up when we wouldn’t get out of bed. Honestly, I didn’t want to do that. Her embrace was just too big and soft.

But this girl was somehow managing to sleep even on this hard chair.

Her adaptability to sleep is so impressive that I wouldn’t be surprised if she could nap in a classroom chair too.

Even after getting beaten up by us earlier.

“Wake up! Ta-da!”

*Splat!*

I shot her in the face with a water gun. She trembled and blinked in confusion as she sat up.

“Ugh… Ah? Sister? Is that you? Or another sister? Where am I?!”

“Glad to see you’re finally awake.”

Sister? What an awful term. Now that I knew her real age, I didn’t want to hear such a bizarre thing.

While I mentally chewed on her nonsense, she looked around the dimly lit room.

“Hmm, sister. Is this that interrogation room? What, are you going to torture me or something?”

“Correct.”

All around us were various neatly organized tools and weapons.

But what our Violets liked the most was the washing machine sitting right in the middle.

I pointed at it.

“Alright, missy. From now on, you better answer my questions. Got it? Or you’ll end up in there.”

“Wow, sister. Missy? I’m younger than you!”

She kept spouting nonsense as if her brain had gone cuckoo from the artificial virus research back in the nanolab.

Normally, we’d call in Bernike, the brain expert, but it was high time to use our Violet-style brain treatment.

“Looks like you’ve got a weird virus tangled up in there. I’ll give you a cure!”

“What? Hey, sister. What’s wrong… Ahahaha…”

“Sister? Get a grip, missy!”

*Thwack!*

“Ouch!”

The girl—no, the missy—held her head. We decided to lay some cold hard truths on this girl disguised as a cute human.

“Phoebe Drexler! Chief Researcher at the Selexis Nanolab! Missy, cut out the sister talk and answer our questions nicely. Got it?”

“Missy?! What kind of horrific thing are you saying? Terrorist! How dare you insult a beauty like me…”

Growing bored, I decided to throw her up in the air.

“Yikes! You perv! Where am I?!”

Tumbling into the huge washing machine, the girl, who insisted on being a beauty turned out to be a mess, seemed to regain some sanity just before the wash cycle.

“What the heck! You’re not gonna let me out?!”

Proudly, we introduced our new interrogation tool from the Ariel Group.

“Oh, this is a washing machine modified for humans. You close the lid like this, hit the button, and then…”

*Whoooosh!*

“A washing machine? What? No! Let me go, you—AAAAAH!”

“No mercy for fake beauties!”

As water sprayed out, the washing machine began to spin at high speed. It was quite a sturdy piece of equipment, bound to hold up for a while.

Inside, a mix of screams and whirrs created a strange tune.

With the Magical Restraint clamped tight and her tied up well, there would be no way she’d break free from the washing machine.

“This is a revolution in interrogation methods!”

“We’re such geniuses!”

The human washing machine was indeed a beautiful innovation. No longer would Violets need to beat them up or increase the voltage themselves.

With just the push of a button, automation significantly improved the quality of life for both the interrogating Violets and the subjects. Being in the washing machine would hurt less than getting beaten, after all!

It was the very epitome of the automation industrial revolution in torture!

Our Violet’s suspect interrogation tool had come one step closer to the Geneva Conventions.

After repeating the spin for dozens of minutes, we opened the lid. We were able to pull out a waterlogged, cat-like, disheveled Phoebe.

“Ugh, ugh… Ewwww…”

“So, ready to answer? Chief Researcher Drexler. Let’s start with why you tried to run away when we were investigating.”

Upon hearing her name, she scrunched her face as if she had seen a ghost, pouted, and started to cry.

“Ah… What? What did I do wrong?”


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