Call of Duty Otome: I'll Die If the Affection Meter Falls Below -50%

When you wake up, your head hurts badly. The air smells of disinfectant, metal, and something distinctly military-base-like. You're lying on a narrow bed, beneath a white ceiling. An IV line from your left hand runs to a drip bag, and your right wrist is secured by a pair of handcuffs.

Handcuffs.

You jolt upright, and your vision goes black for three seconds. The room is tiny, its walls made of gray metal panels. There are no windows, only a tightly shut steel door with a red light glowing above it. You look down at your clothes: a plain gray T-shirt and trousers, not what you were wearing when you arrived. You remember