The group therapy circle reminded Ferris of punishment circles at the monastery - a ring of the wounded, bound together by shared suffering. Seven patients seated in uncomfortable old dining chairs, all wearing the same loose clothing and rubber-soled socks. Only the socks varied in color; the rest - the hollow gazes, slumped shoulders, and nervous fidgeting - was universal.


    A woman with short gray hair and kind, patient eyes sat at what seemed to be the head of the circle. "For those who don''t know me, I''m Dr. Winters," she said, her voice gentle but not condescending. "We have a new face today." She nodded toward Ferris. "Would you like to introduce yourself?"


    All eyes turned to Gabrielle''s body. Ferris felt a surge of unease. In his world, drawing attention meant displaying strength. Here, strength would only mark him as more alien.


    "Hmm? I''m... Gabby," he said, forcing softness into the voice that still felt wrong in his throat.


    "Welcome, Gabby," Dr. Winters said. "Group is a safe space. You don''t have to share until you''re ready."


    Alex, slouched in the chair beside him, snorted almost imperceptibly.


    Dr. Winters either didn''t notice or chose to ignore it. "We''re talking today about coping mechanisms. Healthy ways to deal with overwhelming emotions."


    A young man across the circle with a shock of dyed blue hair raised his hand. "I''ve been using that breathing exercise you taught us. Five seconds in, hold for five, out for five. It''s... it''s been helping with the panic attacks."


    Dr. Winters smiled encouragingly. "That''s excellent, James. Mindful breathing is a powerful tool."


    Ferris studied the faces in the circle, assessing them as he would potential allies or enemies on a battlefield. James seemed earnest, his eyes clear despite the dark circles beneath them. A young woman with braided hair twisted the hem of her shirt as if trying to strangle it. A middle-aged man with a salt-and-pepper beard stared at the floor, disconnected from the proceedings.


    "Alex, would you like to share your coping strategies?" Dr. Winters asked, her tone suggesting this was a routine request that rarely received a satisfactory answer.


    Alex stretched, making a show of considering the question. "Well, Doc, I find that dissociating completely from reality and pretending none of this matters works wonders. Highly recommend."


    Several patients shifted uncomfortably. Dr. Winters sighed. "Avoidance may feel like protection, Alex, but it''s not healing."


    "Who says I want to heal?" Alex countered, a sharp edge beneath the casual tone. "Maybe I''m fine with the open wounds."


    Ferris watched this exchange with growing interest. In the monastery, such defiance would have earned punishment. Here, it seemed tolerated, or even expected. The strategy of the battle was different, but it was a battle nonetheless - one fought with words and willpower rather than fists.


    "Gabby, do you have any coping strategies you''d like to share?" Dr. Winters asked, shifting focus away from Alex.


    Ferris hesitated. What would Gabrielle say? What did he know of her methods for survival? Then he remembered the flash of peace he''d felt - her memory of painting, the calm flow of creating.


    "I find... solace in art," he said carefully. "When I paint, the chaos becomes ordered."


    Alex gave him a sidelong glance, surprised by the genuine response.


    Dr. Winters nodded. "Creative expression is excellent. It gives form to feelings that are difficult to articulate."


    The session continued, patients sharing techniques - some practical, others clearly ineffective. Ferris observed it all, gathering intelligence. These people were warriors too, he realized, though they didn''t know it. Fighting battles within themselves, day after day, with varying degrees of success. And this place… was a monastery courtyard, visiting warriors showing off their techniques.


    When the circle disbanded, lunch was served - bland food on flimsy trays that bent under minimal pressure. Ferris followed Alex to a corner table, away from the others.


    "Not bad in there," Alex said, poking at what appeared to be mashed potatoes. "You gave them what they wanted without completely selling out. Smart."


    Ferris sampled the food, finding it tasteless but adequate. "Knowledge of the enemy''s expectations is the first step to victory. Show a weakness only to draw them into your rhythm, then unleash a flurry of attacks. Ha."


    Alex snorted. "You seriously always talk like that? Like some kind of... I don''t know, warrior-poet?"


    Ferris caught himself. "Hn. I have never paid attention to my words."


    "Right." Alex studied him with renewed interest. "So what''s really going on with you? Because something is definitely off."


    Ferris considered his options. Deception had never been his strength; direct combat was his preference. But here, directness could be dangerous. Still, he sensed that Alex might be one of the few who would understand - or at least not immediately dismiss him.


    "If I told you who I really am," Ferris said carefully, "you would think I require more intensive treatment than what is offered here."


    Alex''s lips quirked upward. "Try me. I''ve heard some wild shit in these places."


    Before Ferris could respond, a door opened, and Dr. Chen entered the dining area, clipboard in hand. "Gabrielle Harper? Time for your evaluation."


    Alex rolled their eyes. "The inquisition awaits. Remember what I said - cuz it’s time do that thing you said about rhythm."


    Ferris nodded slightly, rising to follow Dr. Chen. As he did, Alex shrugged, muttering to themself. “Gabby, huh? Eh... I''ve seen weirder."


    -=-=-=-=-


    Dr. Chen''s office was small but less institutional than the rest of the ward. Plants lined the windowsill - real ones, Ferris noted with surprise. Books filled shelves along one wall. A desk occupied one corner, but Dr. Chen led him to two chairs angled toward each other instead.


    "Please, sit," she said, settling into one chair and indicating the other.


    Ferris sat, back straight, eyes alert - a warrior''s posture that felt natural to him but probably seemed unusual for Gabrielle.


    "How are you feeling after your first few hours here?" Dr. Chen asked, pen poised over her clipboard.


    Do the thing with the rhythm. Alex''s advice echoed in his mind.


    "Better," Ferris said, softening his posture slightly. "More... grounded."


    Dr. Chen made a note. "Good. That''s good to hear." She glanced up. "I''d like to talk about what happened Thursday night, Gabrielle. What do you remember?"


    Ferris knew to tread carefully. He rubbed his chin. "Not much. Everything is... fragmented."


    "That''s not unusual with trauma," Dr. Chen assured him. "Let''s start with how you were feeling that day. Your roommate said you seemed upset after meeting with Professor Marrow."


    “Marrow.. that name”, Ferris thought. "I don''t recall," he said aloud.


    "You don''t remember meeting with Professor Marrow about your art project?"


    Ferris kept his expression neutral despite the surge of interest. "As I said, everything from that day is unclear."


    Dr. Chen studied him. "Gabrielle, your artwork has always been exceptional, from what Professor Marrow tells me. But recently, she expressed concern about some of your pieces - particularly something called ''The Hollow Frame''?"


    Ferris''s heart quickened. Another connection. "What about it concerned her?"


    "I was hoping you might tell me." Dr. Chen''s gaze was penetrating. "Professor Marrow mentioned its ''disturbing imagery'' and ''possible references to self-harm.''"


    Lies, Ferris thought. Whatever Gabrielle had created in that artwork, it hadn''t been about harming herself. It had threatened Marrow somehow.


    "Art is… something that depends on one’s own eye," Ferris said carefully. "Sometimes the viewer sees what they fear, not what the artist intended."


    Dr. Chen''s eyebrows rose slightly. "That''s an interesting perspective." She made another note. "Your roommate also mentioned you''ve been acting differently lately. Using different speech patterns, seeming confused by everyday items."


    Ferris tensed. "Like, stress affects people differently… or something." he offered, trying to sound less secure.


    "Indeed it does." Dr. Chen set down her clipboard. "Gabrielle, I want to be direct with you. Your toxicology report showed some concerning irregularities. The medication in your system doesn''t match your prescriptions in type or dosage. Can you explain that?"


    Someone poisoned me, Ferris wanted to say. But that would only reinforce their belief that Gabrielle was paranoid or delusional.


    "I can''t," he said instead.


    Dr. Chen leaned forward. "Did someone give you something? Something not prescribed to you?"


    For a moment, Ferris wondered if this woman might be an ally after all. But then he remembered the note she''d made earlier: "Paranoid ideation."


    "No," he said, rubbing the back of Gabrielle’s head. "Perhaps I''m simply misremembering my medication."


    Dr. Chen sat back, disappointment visible in her expression. "Gabrielle, we can''t help you if you aren''t honest with us."


    "I understand," Ferris replied, the irony of her statement not lost on him.


    The rest of the evaluation consisted of standard questions - was he having thoughts of self-harm? (“No.”) Did he have a plan to hurt himself? (“Never.”) Did he feel safe returning to campus? (An interesting question, given that someone there had tried to kill Gabrielle.)


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    "I feel safe," Ferris lied smoothly.


    By the end of the session, Dr. Chen seemed satisfied, if not entirely convinced. "You''re showing good insight, Gabrielle. If this continues, I don''t see why you couldn''t be discharged tomorrow."


    Victory, Ferris thought. Not the glorious triumph of defeating an enemy in combat, but the quiet success of strategic retreat.


    "Thank you," he said, rising when she indicated the session was complete.


    "One more thing," Dr. Chen said as he reached the door. "Professor Marrow asked about visiting you. I told her it might be beneficial. Would you be comfortable with that?"


    Ferris''s mind raced. Seeing Marrow could provide valuable information, but it would also be dangerous. He wasn''t ready for that confrontation - not yet, not in this weakened state, not without knowing more.


    "Not today," he said. "Perhaps... tomorrow."


    Dr. Chen nodded. "I''ll let her know. Rest well, Gabrielle."


    As Ferris left the office, his mind churned with new information. The artwork, "The Hollow Frame." The toxicology report showing unknown substances. Marrow''s concern about Gabrielle''s "disturbing imagery." The pieces were beginning to align.


    He found Alex in the common room, watching some moving pictures on the wall-mounted screen with apparent disinterest.


    "How''d it go with the good doctor?" Alex asked without looking away from the screen.


    "Productive," Ferris replied, settling into the adjacent chair. "I may be released tomorrow."


    Now Alex turned to face him. "Impressive. You learn fast." They studied him with renewed curiosity. "So, you were about to tell me who you ''really'' are."


    Ferris glanced around the room. Other patients were scattered about, some dozing, others engaged in simple activities. None seemed to be paying attention, but he lowered his voice anyway.


    "My name is Ferris. I am The Iron Thesis," he said quietly. "I am - was - a warrior monk. My soul was torn from my body during battle with a necromancer and placed in this one."


    He waited for the expected reaction - disbelief, mockery, concern. Instead, Alex simply nodded.


    "Cool," they said, turning back to the screen. "That explains the weird speech and the confusion about basic stuff."


    Ferris blinked. "You... believe me?"


    Alex shrugged. "Does it matter? Either you''re telling the truth, which means reality is way more interesting than I thought, or you''re completely delusional, which means your company is way more interesting than the usual fare around here." They gestured toward the other patients. "Win-win for me."


    Ferris wasn''t sure whether to be relieved or concerned by this acceptance. "I need to discover what happened to Gabrielle," he said. "Someone tried to kill her. I saw it in a vision as my soul crossed over."


    "Vision, huh?" Alex muted the screen. "What''d you see?"


    "This Gabrielle, she… we are connected somehow. She always had a window into my life. My soul. I saw the window, then I saw pills raining down onto a carpet. Someone was pouring them out. Like when the unorthodox sect would kill the northern alliance members but use the swords of the orthodox sect. A provoker tried to blame Gabby for her own… ‘overdose’." Ferris hesitated, then added, "And I found these bruises on her arm. Someone restrained her, from behind, her frail and weak arms rendering her helpless, likely while administering whatever was in her system."


    Alex''s expression shifted slightly, interest sharpening. "So you''re saying someone drugged art-girl, then staged a suicide attempt to cover it up?"


    "Yes."


    "And you think it has something to do with her professor? The one who tried to visit?"


    Ferris nodded. "Her name was in my vision. The name Marrow."


    "Marrow," Alex repeated, testing the sound of it. "Sounds appropriately villain-like." They went quiet for a moment, then asked, "Why would anyone want to kill you? Err, Gabrielle?"


    "I don''t know yet," Ferris admitted. "But it may involve her artwork - something called ''The Hollow Frame.''"


    Alex''s eyes widened slightly. "Wait, Gabrielle Harper... Is she the one who did that painting that went viral? The one with all the faceless students trapped in gilded frames?"


    Now it was Ferris''s turn to be surprised. "You''ve seen it?"


    "Everyone''s seen it," Alex said. "It was all over social media last month. St. Aldwyn tried to take it down, claiming copyright infringement or some bullshit, but that just made people share it more." They let out a low whistle. "If that''s the girl whose body you''re in... damn. Her art struck a nerve."


    This was valuable intelligence. "What exactly did the painting show?"


    Alex''s brow furrowed in concentration. "It was like... a hallway of ornate frames, but inside each one was a student with no face - just blank skin. They were wearing St. Aldwyn''s colors, but the frames had, like, golden chains binding the students inside them. And there was this shadowy figure with a key ring, walking between the frames."


    "And this upset the faculty? Her mentors?"


    "Oh yeah. BIG time." Alex leaned closer. "There were rumors it was specifically targeting Professor Marrow''s ''mentorship'' program - this elite art track where she handpicks students for special attention. Everyone knows it''s just free labor for her gallery showings, but nobody can prove it."


    Ferris absorbed this information. "Gabrielle must have unsheathed a powerful weapon - something that threatened Marrow directly."


    "And got poisoned for her trouble," Alex concluded. "Hell of a critique."


    Ferris nodded grimly. "I will find this painting. And whatever else Gabrielle knew."


    "All of which requires getting out of here," Alex pointed out. "Lucky for you, I''m something of an expert in that department."


    Ferris studied his new ally. "Hm? Earlier, you said you were considering making this place your permanent address. That the world was going to hell anyway."


    Something dark flickered across Alex''s face. "Yeah, well. Maybe your little revenge quest sounds more interesting than watching the world burn from a psychiatric ward." They glanced away. "Besides, art-girl deserves justice if someone really did try to off her."


    Ferris recognized the deflection but didn''t press. "So you''ll aid me in escaping?"


    "Escape sounds dramatic. Let''s call it ''expedited discharge''." Alex''s grin held a hint of genuine amusement. "Step one: convince Dr. Chen you''re stable and remorseful. Which you''ve apparently already done. Step two: get cleared by the attending physician tomorrow morning. Step three: walk out the front door like a normal person."


    "Without throwing a punch?"


    "It’s just that simple." Alex paused. "Though there''s one complication."


    "Which is?"


    "Your ride home. Usually they only release you to someone - family member, friend, whoever. Got anyone who can pick you up? Because if not, they might keep you until Monday when the university shuttle runs."


    Ferris frowned. "I know no one in this world except you."


    Alex stared at him for a long moment. "You''re really committed to this whole ''warrior from another dimension'' thing, aren''t you?"


    "It is the truth."


    "Whatever." Alex sighed dramatically. "Fine. I''ll help you. I''m eligible for a day pass tomorrow anyway. We can say we''re friends, get released together, figure out your art girl mystery." They fixed Ferris with a stern look. "But if we''re doing this, you need to work on sounding less like you wandered off the set of a fantasy movie. People will notice."


    Ferris nodded. "I will endeavor - " He stopped, corrected himself. "I shall… no. I meant: I’ll try to sound more... normal."


    "That''s marginally better," Alex said, but there was a hint of amusement in their voice. In fact: I have some, ahh, magic words to teach you. Ones which will cast an illusion to make you seem like a normie.”


    Ferris rubbed Gabrille’s chin. “Hmm… Illusion magic… I see.”


    Alex smirked. “It’s so easy - each is just a word or two. No cap.”


    Ferris’ confusion showed on Gabrielle’s face. “...no cap? You mean - the helmet?”


    “Oh wow. This is going to be harder than I thought.” said Alex, taking a deep breath then blowing it out with puffed cheeks. “That ‘no cap’ is the first one you’ll learn. Try saying it, but it’s a way of, ahh… well it means ‘no lie’. It means you’re telling the truth. Know what I mean?”


    “Why not just say ‘I speak the truth’.”


    Alex picked up a water bottle, sprinkling some cold spring water onto their hand and finger tips. “Bad warrior-monk” admonished Alex, flicking their fingers at Ferris’ face.


    Ferris just stood there, unblinking. “Why did you bother attacking me with such a weak attack?”


    "Wowwww…. Listen, if you ever try to discount the power of my magic again, you''ll get sprinkled again. I''ll double the amount of sprinkles every time. Got it?" Alex poured a little more water into their palm, readying another attack.


    "Hm? Is this some kind of modern water-torture technique?" Ferris asked, deadpan.


    "Worse. It''s called ''being annoying until you cooperate.''" Alex wiggled their wet fingers menacingly.


    “Hn. Very well. Proceed, Mage Alex.”


    Alex barely held in a laugh. “Okay, try this one. ‘Being in the hospital sucked, no cap’. Say it.”


    “Being in the hospital... it was sucked. No cap?” tried Ferris


    Alex looked upon Ferris with such pity. “Okay, that’s the weakest I’ve ever heard you. Just talk like your normal self but add “No cap”. Like for emphasis.”


    Jaw clenched, Ferris nodded a few times. “Ah. This is confusing. Like, no cap.”


    Alex blinked, their head retracting a bit. “Oh. Not bad. Try this one: I was low-key not expecting that.”


    Ferris parroted it back. “I was low-key not expecting that.”


    “I’m going to get whiplash from the sudden change in how fast you learn, no cap.”


    “What is this, ‘low key’? Warriors focus chi, or ki, in their dan tian through cultivation.”


    “Gabby…” said Alex, whose fingers had dried too much to be a threat, dousing their hand then flicking it at Ferris, twice. “You use ‘low-key’ to make it, like… casual. More familiar. Less formal. A HUGE problem of yours. Use ‘low-key’ in a sentence. Say something. Go.”


    Ferris was nodding and furrowing his brow. “Hm. Ah. Yes. You use a low-ki attack to pull your punches. Soften the blow. I low-key enjoy this phrase.”


    Alex just gawked at that logical leap. “R…right.” Rubbing their head, Alex continued. “Just one more. You know ‘no cap’ is to be more convincing. ‘Low-key’ is to seem less stiff. So there is one last magic phrase to use as a last resort. When all is lost. You’ll say ‘I can’t even’.”


    “Hmm? I can’t even what?” asked Ferris.


    “No, that’s it. Just say ‘I can’t even’.” instructed Alex.


    “Would it be more emphatic if I were to add-”


    “OH MY GOD, I can’t even with you!” shouted Alex, in mock exasperation. “Like that. Or it can be a standalone. Ya know what-” thought Alex, out loud. “Think of it as an implication. Pretend it’s short for ‘I can’t even finish this sentence’. Like if you were just that angry, or sad, or frustrated, you’d say ‘I can’t even…’ and trail off. Got it?”


    “Very well. I low-key get it. I can’t even not get it.” Ferris looked up for approval, Gabrielle’s sad and tired eyes pleading.


    “Eh, sure. Close enough. We’ll workshop it later. So we’ve got another problem: We should low-key figure out a cover story for how we know each other. Something believable."


    "Hm. You were in one of Gabrielle''s classes," Ferris suggested.


    "Good, but specific. Which one?"


    Ferris realized he had no idea what classes Gabrielle took. "I don''t know," he admitted.


    Alex rolled their eyes. "Art History 201. Professor Lewis. Wednesday afternoons. We sit in the back row and make fun of his bow ties." They tilted their head. "What''s your major again?"


    "I... do not know."


    "Jesus, you really don''t know anything about her, do you?”


    "I feel sometimes. She liked this phrase, this ''low key''. She used it when painting—I can feel that memory. And she did not like the word ''Marrow''. It freezes her veins like too much yin energy. Even now, saying it makes her body tense."


    “Hm. She''s probably an art major, so let''s go with that." Alex studied him. "You should probably figure out basic information about yourself before we get out of here. Otherwise, you''re going to raise a lot of red flags."


    Ferris nodded, acknowledging the wisdom in this advice. "Perhaps you could… ‘quiz’ me more? Low-key help me prepare?"


    For a moment, Alex looked surprised by the request. Then, slowly, a genuine smile spread across their face - perhaps the first Ferris had seen.


    "You know what? Sure. Let''s play ''Who''s That Girl?'' It''s not like I have anything better to do in this place." They sat up straighter. "About your speech: nobody born after 1990 talks like they''re reciting Shakespeare. We’ve been over the three spells you can use. Now you have to fix some of your normal words. More contractions, fewer fancy words."


    Ferris nodded, focusing intently. This was a new form of training - not for body, but for mind and speech. Infiltration rather than confrontation.


    "...I''m prepared!" he said, then corrected himself: "I''m… like, ready to learn. More. No cap."


    Alex''s smile turned into something closer to a smirk. "We''ll see about that, warrior monk. We''ll see."


    As the afternoon stretched on, Ferris immersed himself in Alex''s crash course on modern speech, behavior, and knowledge. Learning to say "low-key" and "no cap" felt as challenging as mastering new sword forms had once been, but he persevered.


    Tomorrow, he would leave this place and begin his true mission: uncovering what had happened to Gabrielle Harper, finding "The Hollow Frame," and bringing Professor Marrow to justice.


    The battle was just beginning. And this time, he would not fight alone.