Early the next morning, Aiko shoved her tray back through the slot. White bread, white yogurt—untouched. She’d poked the pale pear once. Hard as a rock. She didn’t even try it.

  She looked in the mirror. The flickering light overhead made her reflection jump. Her fingers ran through her hair. White. Still white. Not a single strand of black anywhere.

  What the heck is happening to me?

  Keys rattled. The cell door creaked. Bright light spilled in, blinding her. A shadow filled the doorway.

  He stepped inside—white suit, white cane, white top hat. He looked like he’d walked out of some creepy movie.

  “You?” Aiko gasped.

  Malcolm gave a little bow, his smile sharp as glass. “My dear Aiko, no need for alarm. I want to help you reach your full potential.”

  Her hands balled into fists. “Help? You kidnapped me! You’re insane!”

  “Your mother’s work can change humanity,” Malcolm said smoothly, ignoring her anger. “With your help, we can unlock it.”

  Aiko narrowed her eyes. The mention of her mother made her chest ache, but she forced her voice steady. “You’re lying. Why should I believe you?”

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  He spread his hands, like some fake magician. “I only ask that you keep an open mind. Ginger and a few others already see the value in working with me.”

  Her stomach twisted.

  Ginger’s with him?

  “Are you… the warden she was talking about?”

  Malcolm just smiled. No answer.

  Her frustration boiled up. “If I help you… will you let me see my uncle?”

  “You’re in trouble, Aiko,” he said. “But I’m friends with the judge who’ll hear your case next month. We can help each other.”

  Aiko’s throat went dry. Her uncle. Her only family. She bit her lip, then gave a hesitant nod. “…Fine. What do you want?”

  With a click, he popped the top of his cane and unrolled a sheet of paper. Symbols and numbers spilled across it in her mother’s handwriting.

  Her breath hitched. “That’s… Mom’s.”

  “Exactly.” Malcolm slid it toward her. “I’ll leave this for you to decode.”

  He tapped the door twice, and the lock clanked open. Harsh light burned her eyes. “Now, get to work.”

  The door slammed shut behind him.

  Aiko dragged the paper into the brightest patch of light and stared. Her head throbbed as her eyes skimmed the lines. They didn’t make sense—squiggles and numbers and words she didn’t know.

  A tray slammed through the slot, making her jump. White meat, white potatoes, white rice. Milk.

  This place is sick. They’re trying to drive me crazy.

  She pushed the food away and stared at the paper again. The symbols blurred. Then—shifted. Like they lit up, glowing in her mind. She didn’t “know” the answers exactly—she felt them.

  Her hand shot for a pencil. She scribbled notes, filling in pieces as her pulse raced. Somehow, impossibly, it all started to fall into place.