A/N: I don’t know why, but I suddenly got my spirit to write again after talking to Kazetrigger (the one who completed .hack//Link Fan-English Patch) or seeing an old fan art from the Third Season. hack series resurfaced again…
I started this development about 1-2 years ago since I finished To the Shining You, but didn’t get to it in time due to IRL work…
But now I’m here… I’ll return to writing for now…
Today, I’ll release five chapters, followed by a Q&A session.
Hope you all be ready…
“…Is he still alive?”
a voice echoed, low and cold.
The air in the chamber was thick with the stench of antiseptic and iron, a silence broken only by faint drips of water somewhere in the dark.
“Of course he is,”
“That brat… after everything we put him through, he shouldn’t die that easily.”
The words reached him from a distance, muffled as though underwater. The boy lay crumpled on the floor, his body a canvas of bruises, wrapped in bandages that had long since soaked through. His long, unkempt hair fell over his face, hiding the faint gleam of half-lidded eyes that struggled to open.
All he could make out were the silhouettes of two men, their pristine white coats brushing against polished shoes—sharp, sterile, and merciless.
“Hey, you. Wake up.”
The order rang out, but the boy’s body refused to obey. His breaths were shallow, each one scraping against his lungs as if even air had become a punishment.
“I said, wake up!”
The kick landed hard against his ribs.
“Guaagh—!” A cry tore from his throat, raw and jagged. Pain flared white-hot, rattling through his fragile bones.
One of the men clicked his tongue and stepped back, almost disappointed. “Good grief… just remember—you’re not allowed to die that easily.” His eyes narrowed, voice dripping with cruelty. “We’re not done with you yet. More tests await. So… get moving.”
Another kick followed, harsher this time, forcing the boy to curl against the ground. His body screamed in protest, every nerve alive with agony.
“…kh—” His breath hitched, teeth clenched. Slowly, shakily, he pushed a trembling hand against the cold floor. His legs barely held as he dragged himself upright, bones creaking as if they might snap at any moment.
Still, he moved. Still, he followed.
With his battered frame hunched forward, the boy stumbled after the two white coats, their shadows stretching long before him like chains.
Every corridor the boy stumbled through was painted in blinding white, sterile and suffocating. The fluorescent lights above buzzed faintly, their glow reflecting off glass panels that lined the walls. Behind those transparent barriers, children his age—and younger—were trapped. Some lay strapped to tables, their fragile bodies twitching under the cold instruments of science. Others sat silently, their wide, hollow eyes staring out at him as though pleading for help he could never give.
His throat tightened. He wanted to look away, but his gaze lingered on them—drawn by the silent cries behind the glass, until his legs carried him onward like a puppet dragged by invisible strings.
“Yes…?”
The man leading him pressed two fingers against the small device in his ear. His tone was clipped, formal, as though reporting to some unseen authority.
“We brought him again, as you asked. We’re on our way now.”
The boy could not hear the reply, only the faint static, but he watched the man’s expression harden as he removed his hand from the earpiece.
The second man adjusted the briefcase in his grip, its polished surface hiding secrets too heavy to speak aloud. “What did he say?”
“Same test simulation as always,” the first man replied coldly. His gaze flicked back at the boy, sharp with contempt. “All because of that brat. If he’d just been polite and accepted the experiment, we wouldn’t be stuck cleaning up his mess.”
The boy flinched, his body shrinking at their words. He had heard enough to understand—he was the reason for their irritation, their anger, their cruelty.
Suddenly, they stopped.
“Hey, you brat!”
The boy’s heart lurched. His breath caught as one of the men turned sharply, eyes like knives stabbing into him.
“You’d better do us a favor,” the man hissed, voice dripping with menace. “Or else we’ll beat you until you understand. Got that?”
The weight of that gaze was unbearable. His instincts screamed at him to run, to hide, to vanish—but he knew it was futile. There was no escaping the iron grip of those in white.
“Y-Yes, sir…” His voice cracked as he bowed his head, trembling.
The man with the briefcase snorted. “Although if he fails again, at least it’ll free us from babysitting him.”
“Could you please just shut up?!” the other snapped, glaring daggers at his co-worker before returning his attention to the boy.
His cold stare froze him in place, colder than the steel cages around them. “Don’t disappoint us again.”
The boy lowered his eyes, unable to meet that cruel gaze. Silence was safer—silence was all he had. So he said nothing, forcing his weary body to move once more, trailing behind the two men like a shadow with no will of its own.
The steel door slid open with a hiss, and the two men in white coats ushered the boy inside.
The room beyond was vast and clinical, filled with the hum of machines and the steady clicking of keyboards. Men and women in identical coats worked in silence—typing data into glowing monitors, flipping through thick files, or pausing just long enough to watch the boy’s entrance with detached curiosity. To them, he was not a person. He was a specimen.
“We’ve brought Subject 01, professor,” one of the men announced.
From among the crowd, a woman rose. She looked to be in her late twenties, perhaps early thirties—tall, composed, her long blonde hair falling neatly down her back. A pair of thin glasses framed sharp eyes that gleamed behind the sterile glow of the room. Like the others, she wore the white coat, but the air around her was heavier, commanding.
“Good,” she said simply, her heels clicking softly against the floor as she approached.
Her gaze lowered to the boy, who stood hunched and trembling. She smiled faintly—warm, reassuring, almost motherly. “I suppose you’re ready for another test… right?”
He nodded silently, but the warmth drained from her face in an instant. Her smile remained, but her eyes did not match it—sharp, dissecting, clinical. The boy felt his blood freeze.
“Some scientists say that if you fail, you become disposable,” she murmured, voice calm, almost soothing, like a teacher comforting a frightened child. Yet every word pressed down on him like iron chains. She leaned closer, her hand brushing a lock of his messy hair back from his face as though she cared.
“But unfortunately for you, you’re far too valuable. You carry a greater potential… the kind that could bring about a new evolution for humanity. You, Subject 01, are the key to fulfilling our vision.”
Her tone never rose above a whisper—kind, almost affectionate—but the boy could feel the cruelty beneath it, colder than any scream.
“So even if you fail… we will repeat the process. Again, and again. Until we get the result we want. Even if it means bleeding you dry.”
The boy’s throat tightened. He wanted to scream, to cry, to run—but his voice was lost, swallowed by fear. Her eyes, on the surface, shone with purpose, even kindness. But the truth beneath was far more terrifying than anything he had seen. That gaze told him there was no escape.
Then, she smiled. A slow, calculated curve of her lips.
“Alright then,” she whispered, straightening as the chill in the room deepened. “Shall we begin?”
The boy could only tremble in silence, standing before the woman who smiled like a savior but spoke like an executioner.
“Commencing the Doubleware Project: Trial Test Simulation #9.”
The announcement echoed across the sterile chamber, the woman’s voice cutting through the mechanical hum. Her fingers danced across the keyboard, rapid and unrelenting, the glow of the monitors painting her glasses with cold light.
“Portal sequence activated. Preparing Subject 01 for transfer to the Digital Zone.”
The boy stood in the center of a circular platform etched with glowing lines, the air around him charged with a low hum. His knees trembled, but he did not move—whether from fear or futility, even he could not tell.
“Human digitalization: engage. Initialization sequence… complete.”
The circle beneath him lit up, symbols crawling outward like veins of fire. The floor vibrated faintly, sending shivers through his battered body. His eyes widened as columns of light rose around him, weaving upward like the bars of a cage.
From afar, the scientists watched in silence, their expressions unreadable. The woman who led them leaned back in her chair, her gaze fixed on him with clinical detachment. To her, this was no different than a number on a screen—just another step closer to their grand design.
“Commencing transportation. Beginning sequence.”
The beam of light struck him.
It was like being swallowed whole. His body shimmered, his outline flickering between flesh and something less tangible. His skin burned and froze at once, every nerve screaming as if it were being rewritten. Slowly, his form began to unravel, fragments of light peeling away from his body like shards of glass breaking off into the void.
“Ghh—!” The boy’s voice cracked, though whether anyone heard him over the roar of energy, he did not know. His hands reached for something solid, but there was nothing—only the relentless pull of the light tearing him away from the world he knew.
Piece by piece, he vanished.
“Transportation: successful.”
The last of his body dissolved into the air, leaving only the glow of the circle beneath him. The scientists murmured in approval, recording data, their eyes never blinking.
“Commencing second phase of transportation…”
On the central monitor, a loading sequence appeared—bars filling slowly, patterns spiraling across the screen like an endless vortex. The boy’s existence was no longer in the room; he was data now, suspended between realities.
The woman folded her arms, her expression sharp with anticipation. “Let’s see how far you can go this time… Subject 01.”
“Subject 01… can you hear me?”
The voice echoed faintly, like a ripple through water. The boy stirred, his eyelids fluttering as consciousness slowly dragged him back.
“…Nngh…” His throat was dry, his breath ragged. He pushed against the ground with trembling arms, his body sluggish as if weighed down by chains. Somehow, he managed to rise to his feet.
When his eyes finally adjusted, he realized he was no longer in the sterile chamber. The world around him stretched endlessly—a vast, empty expanse of gleaming white. Beneath his feet was a smooth floor that glimmered faintly, its surface forming patterns of glowing hexagons that seemed to pulse with life. The horizon above was blank, hollow, yet alive with a subtle hum that vibrated in his bones.
“Good… you’re awake.”
The voice came again, smooth yet clinical, filling the air as if the world itself spoke to him.
“Today marks your ninth trial. We’ve made several adjustments this time—your body will move more freely, and your abilities can be tested with greater accuracy. But don’t misunderstand.”
The voice sharpened.
“The difficulty remains unchanged. Just as with the last eight trials… survival will depend on you. Show us results, Subject 01. Make us proud.”
The boy swallowed hard and gave a small nod, his voice trapped in his chest.
A sudden chime filled the air. Before him, a massive screen shimmered into existence, translucent and radiant, displaying countless silhouettes of warriors. Each one held a weapon, their postures frozen mid-motion—an army of possibilities.
“This time, you will be tasked to choose your role.”
Lines of text scrolled across the glowing interface as the voice continued:
“We’ve prepared a selection of job classes from The World R:2. Twin Blade, Harvest Cleric, Steam Gunner, Blade Brandier… and more.”
The boy hesitated, then stepped forward. His fingers hovered before the screen, which rippled at his touch. Swiping slowly, he cycled through the glowing figures, their outlines shifting—one wielded twin daggers, another a heavy broadsword, another aiming a rifle.
At last, his hand stopped. His gaze lingered on the figure of a Twin Blade—dual weapons gleaming in either hand, agile and relentless. Without another thought, he tapped.
The screen flared.
“Twin Blade, huh?” The voice sounded amused now, almost taunting. “Fitting. Even the heroes of the past—like Kite—found themselves drawn to the Twin Blade.”
Text appeared before his eyes:
“SELECT JOB: SUCCESS.”
The screen dissolved into shards of light that scattered into the void. In their place, two blades materialized in his grip, solid and real. Their weight surprised him—he looked down to see their rough edges and plain design.
“The Amateur Blades… the most basic weapon,” the voice remarked. “Every journey begins from the bottom. Still…”
The pause was deliberate, heavy.
“You continue to impress me, Subject 01. But remember—this is only the beginning.”
The boy tightened his trembling grip on the blades, his reflection glinting in their steel. His chest heaved, a mixture of fear and determination stirring inside him. Whatever awaited, he knew escape was impossible. The only path left was forward.
His eyes snapped wide, catching the sudden flicker of movement ahead. Three goblins emerged from the empty void, their jagged weapons gleaming under the sterile light of the Digital Zone.
“Your first trial is to defeat the goblins,” the woman’s voice echoed in his head, calm and merciless. “Every RPG begins with goblins. Go on… make some rewards for yourself.”
The boy tightened his grip on the Amateur Blades. His hands trembled, but he forced his legs forward, charging at the nearest creature. He swung wildly, desperation guiding his strikes—but the goblin’s crude shield caught his blade, shoving him back with surprising strength.
“Kh—!” His body stumbled, and before he could recover, the other two lunged at him, claws and rusted steel flashing. Instinct took hold. His breath sharpened, his eyes following every twitch of their movements. At the last moment, he twisted aside, rolling across the ground as their blades slashed through empty air. His body landed hard, but he pulled himself upright in one fluid motion.
“Hmm… impressive.”
He gasped for breath, his chest heaving, but his eyes never left the three goblins.
“Your precision has improved. You’re faster, sharper. Unlike before—you’re no longer running like a child. You’ve learned to read your enemies’ rhythm. You’ve adapted.”
The praise was hollow, clinical, dripping with mockery.
“Magnificent… but let’s raise the stakes. This trial will be set to Do or Die.”
The words froze his blood. His grip tightened until his knuckles whitened. Failure no longer meant bruises or exhaustion—it meant death. Real death.
His heart pounded, but his body slid into a fighting stance, blades steady, eyes narrowed. He forced himself to focus—on their patterns, their steps, the twitch of their arms. Inside, fear gnawed at him, whispering of failure, of pain, of the void. But louder than fear was a single truth: survive.
“Graaaaaaghhh!!”
A scream tore from his throat as he lunged forward, his blades flashing. He caught the first goblin off guard, plunging a dagger deep into its chest.
He stabbed again. And again. Rage and desperation drove his arms faster, harder. Until the goblin convulsed.
The second creature snarled and charged, but before it could react, the boy hurled his dagger. The blade whistled through the air—then sank deep into its skull with a sickening crack. The goblin collapsed instantly, flickering out of existence.
The last goblin froze. Its eyes widened with something close to fear. It staggered back, trembling, but the boy was already moving. His feet slammed against the floor, propelling him forward with speed he hadn’t known he possessed.
The goblin turned to flee. Too late.
The boy’s blades struck, piercing its body. He drove the weapon down, again and again, until its cries turned into silence. His arms shook, but he didn’t stop—his body moved on its own, stabbing, tearing, fueled by a mix of fury and desperation. Blood sprayed across his face, staining his skin crimson.
“…Impressive.”
The voice returned, cool and detached. “Not quite what I expected. But still, impressive.”
The boy’s chest rose and fell violently, his breaths ragged as he finally pulled his blades free from the lifeless husk. He let the weapon slip from his hand, falling to his knees as exhaustion clawed at him.
“Though, perhaps the goblins were too weak,” the woman mused. “I may have underestimated them. For the next round… stronger opponents.”
The boy tilted his head upward, his vision blurring. Above him, beyond the endless white, he could almost feel their eyes—the scientists, the programmers, the overseers. Watching. Always watching.
Blood dripped from his chin as he stared back, silent, defiant in his own way.
“Prepare for Round Two.”
The void trembled, and the world began to shift once more.
The door hissed open, another figure stepping inside—his white coat crisp, his expression serious. Clearly, he was no ordinary staff member, but one of the higher authorities who had come to observe the trial firsthand.
“Is he still at it?” the man asked, his tone betraying a mix of curiosity and unease.
“Yes,” the blonde woman replied smoothly, adjusting her glasses as her eyes stayed fixed on the monitors. “It’s been several hours. His performance is remarkable compared to previous tests. His adaptability increases with every passing second.”
Her voice lowered, colored with restrained excitement. “He hasn’t yet unlocked his full potential… but the rate of his growth is undeniable. If we continue with more trials, the Doubleware Project may finally yield the breakthrough we’ve sought.”
Together, their gazes shifted toward the large display screen.
On it, Subject 01 stood amidst carnage. His chest heaved violently, his breath ragged and raw. Blood coated his torn clothes and streaked across his pale face, dripping from his chin. Around him lay hundreds of bodies—monsters of all shapes and sizes reduced to lifeless husks that flickered into digital ash. Whether it was one hundred, five hundred, or a thousand, no one could count anymore. Only the endless evidence of survival surrounded him.
The boy’s hands trembled, yet still clenched tightly around his twin blades. His knees threatened to buckle, but his eyes—tired as they were—burned with the primal will to endure.
“Man,” the new arrival muttered, his brows furrowed, “he’s all beat up.”
“As I expected,” the blonde woman said, her voice calm but her smile betraying something darker. “And yet…” She leaned closer to the screen, her eyes gleaming with obsession. “I’m still not satisfied.”
Her hunger for results had long since consumed her restraint.
“Operator,” she said suddenly, her voice cutting like glass. “Release the Code SIN.”
The room froze.
The operator, another woman in a white coat, spun around from her console, eyes wide. “Professor—! That’s too dangerous! If we unleash that entity here—”
“It doesn’t matter.” The blonde professor’s tone hardened, her authority absolute. “This is the perfect chance to test its capabilities against him. Only through the crucible of despair will we see what lies dormant within him.”
“But—”
“Do it.”
The word cracked like a whip. The operator faltered, hands trembling above the keys. Her hesitation was clear, but in this place, orders were absolute. She swallowed her fear, fingers typing furiously across the console.
The chamber lights dimmed as warning sirens flared across the monitors. Lines of crimson code scrawled across the screens like blood spreading through veins.
“Initiating Code: SIN.”
“Release—engaged.”
A deep rumble resonated through the Digital Zone. The white hexagonal floor beneath the boy flickered violently, rippling outward like water disturbed by a stone. The very air thickened, oppressive, as if the simulation itself recoiled from what was being summoned.
On the monitors, the researchers leaned forward, some in awe, others in fear. The boy, battered and panting, looked up with wide eyes as the sky above him fractured into jagged cracks of crimson light. Something immense was coming.
And this time… it was nothing like the monsters he had fought before.
Digital Space Zone
Haaah… haaah… haaah…
Each breath tore through his throat like fire. The boy’s chest rose and fell violently, lungs straining against exhaustion. His body trembled, refusing to obey, yet his hands still clung to the blood-stained blades as if letting go meant death itself.
He had lost count of how many enemies he’d cut down. Ten? A hundred? A thousand? Numbers no longer mattered—the battlefield was nothing but a graveyard of digital husks flickering into static ash.
Yet his heart wouldn’t stop pounding, his vision blurring at the edges. Hunger gnawed at his stomach. His lips cracked with thirst. His muscles screamed with every twitch. The simulation stripped him bare, until only the primal will to survive remained.
How long could he keep this up? Hours? Days? Weeks? Or would the next breath be his last?
Deep down, he knew the truth: no amount of tears would save him. Crying would not move their hearts. Screaming would not pierce the walls of their cruel observation. His desperation was nothing but fuel for their experiment.
The words of the blonde woman replayed in his skull, cold and merciless: Dry him out. Let him crawl. Only then will we see the next stage of evolution.
He wanted to curse her. To beg. To collapse. But none of that would change anything.
The only choice left—the only thing he could do—was fight.
Fight, and survive.
Even if survival itself had long since lost its meaning.
His legs shifted into stance again, trembling but unyielding. The boy raised his blades, forcing strength into his grip.
And then—
BAM!
The ground beneath him convulsed. The battlefield shook as a deafening crack split the air.
“Huh…”
His breath caught. His eyes narrowed, instinct sharpening like a blade. Something was coming. He could feel it—not through sight or sound, but through the very fabric of the digital air pressing down on him.
Then—
BAM.
The ground shuddered.
BAM. BAM. BAM.
The pounding reverberated like the heartbeat of a giant, each slam louder, heavier, more insistent, as though something colossal was hammering against the walls of reality itself, desperate to break through.
The boy’s gaze darted upward. The sky itself rippled, veins of distortion spreading like cracks on glass.
BAM. BAM. BAM. BAM.
The rhythm quickened, shaking his bones, crawling under his skin.
And then, eerily, impossibly—he heard it. A single, resonant A note in C Major, echoing through the void, like the mocking chime of some divine orchestra.
BANG! CLACK!
The world shattered. The digital horizon split apart, shards of false reality crumbling away like broken glass. From the abyss beyond, something pressed forward—something that should not exist.
First, a hand clawed through, massive and armored in obsidian flesh. Then another. Fingers curled, tearing the rift wider. A face emerged—horned, jagged, etched with an eternal snarl of malice. Its wings unfolded next, vast and leathery, blotting out what little light remained. A grotesque body followed, its legs twisted and clawed, and at its knees, snarling visages of monstrous faces writhed as if alive.
Piece by piece, the abomination dragged itself through the breach, until it stood fully revealed—looming, immense, and suffocating in its presence.
The boy’s heart froze.
So, are you ready for the final simulation test, Subject 01?
The voice did not come from its maw, but from everywhere at once—an omnipresent, booming resonance that rattled his skull.
He stared, wide-eyed, as the abyss gazed back into him. Fear, raw and primal, surged in his veins. His body screamed to move, to raise his blades, to run—anything.
But nothing happened.
His muscles refused to respond. His arms hung limp. His legs rooted themselves to the broken ground.
It wasn’t paralysis of the body—it was paralysis of the soul. The terror was so absolute, so consuming, that even his instincts had surrendered.
The boy could not believe such a creature existed—something darker than darkness, deeper than the abyss itself.
The only thing he could do was stand there, trembling, as fear swallowed him whole.
THE CODE SIN.
The horned demon towered before him, its wings vast as storm clouds, its claws sharper than steel, and its barbed tail coiling like a serpent ready to strike. Even its kneecaps bore grotesque visages—twisted, screaming faces etched into its flesh, like damned souls eternally imprisoned in its body.
It was darker than darkness itself—deeper than the abyss.
The boy’s eyes locked with it, and for a moment, it was as if the abyss returned his gaze. His breath hitched. A slow, suffocating dread coiled around his chest, crushing every shred of defiance he still held.
He tried to order his body to move, to brace his stance, to raise his weapon—anything. But nothing responded. His muscles betrayed him. His limbs refused his will.
His body did not listen.
Fear consumed him whole, a kind of fear so absolute that it transcended reason.
What’s wrong? Why did you stop?
The voice echoed again, thundering from nowhere and everywhere at once.
The boy clenched his teeth, struggling with everything he had to fight against the paralysis. His mind screamed at his body to stand, but his expression betrayed him. His face was pale, twisted with terror. His legs buckled beneath him, trembling so violently they refused to hold his weight.
The demon’s gaze never faltered. Those monstrous eyes bore down on him with a force more suffocating than gravity. The longer it stared, the heavier his fear grew. His heart hammered in his chest—rapid, erratic—like a drum of panic. His thoughts shattered, fragments scattered and lost in the storm of dread.
Fear… pure, unshakable fear.
For the first time in so long, he felt something beyond his control. He had always believed he could resist, that he could master fear and bend it to his will. But not this time.
This fear was not his to command.
“N-No… I-I can’t…”
The words spilled from his trembling lips, broken and uneven.
He couldn’t fight. He couldn’t even raise his hand. Before him was no enemy to conquer—only the embodiment of absolute abyss, a creature that was fear itself. Its gaze alone promised death.
What? Hey, what are you doing, you brat?! Stand up—right NOW!
The voice roared, furious, but it did nothing to stir his limbs.
“N-No… I-I can’t… I-I…” His voice cracked, drowned in despair. His throat tightened as tears threatened to well up. “I-I don’t wanna die…”
His body jerked backward, scrambling weakly as his palms scraped against the fractured ground. His hands clawed at nothing, dragging himself away, though there was nowhere left to run. His legs shook violently, refusing to carry him. Every instinct cried for him to flee, yet he could not escape.
The monster stepped closer. Each heavy thud reverberated in his chest, every footfall a death knell that grew louder, closer, inevitable.
The boy’s lips quivered. His heart pleaded for this nightmare to end—for the session to close, for the torment to stop.
But deep down, he knew.
This was impossible.
There would be no mercy.
“Please… stay away… please… I don’t wanna die…”
Dammit, what do we do, Professor? One of the assistants shouted, panic sharp in his voice. If this continues, it’ll endanger our only subject!
“We have to intervene!” another cried. “Professor—please!”
“Professor Emilia!”
“Professor Emilia!”
Behind the glass, the blonde woman in the white coat sat rigid, her knuckles white on the console. Their voices grated against her ears. Her expression twisted in anger—not only at their panic, but at the bitter truth before her. Even she had to admit it: Subject 01 couldn’t withstand the monster. He was breaking. Failing. Again.
Her jaw clenched. Fury burned in her chest, though beneath it was something heavier—something she despised acknowledging.
With a sharp slam of her fist on the desk, she snapped.
“Argh—DAMMIT! FINE! This test session’s a failure! BRING HIM BACK, NOW!”
The room erupted into frantic motion. Keys clattered, alarms beeped, commands fired across the system. But inside the zone, the boy was still alone.
The horned terror—CODE SIN—advanced. Its steps shook the ground, each one slower, heavier, crueler. The boy’s whole body convulsed under the weight of dread, his heart straining as though it might burst. His chest tightened until every breath became a sob, his vision blurring from sheer terror.
The monster’s claws rose. Edged in abyssal light, they arced downward to cleave him apart.
The boy shrieked, throwing his arms over his face, a useless shield against death. His mind fractured, consumed by the certainty that this was the end.
But then—
A beam of white light tore through the dark, splitting the monster’s strike. The blast struck CODE SIN squarely, driving it back with a roar that shook the zone. The boy’s body was seized by the light, pulled away, his outline already dissolving into fragments of data.
And then—he was gone.
But the light vanished. Cold air slammed into his lungs, dragging him back into the world he hated most.
The boy’s eyes fluttered open. Cold air hit his lungs as he sat up, trying to gather himself, only to find dozens of eyes fixed on him.
They weren’t eyes of relief. They weren’t eyes of concern.
They were cold. Judgmental. Empty.
The fear returned instantly—not of the monster he had just faced, but of something worse. Something that dug deeper into his chest than claws ever could.
And at the center of it all… her.
The blonde woman in glasses. Professor Emilia.
Her gaze alone froze him more than CODE SIN’s abyss ever had. Cold, sharp, merciless—it pierced him until he couldn’t breathe.
“P-Please… I-I was just—” he stammered, his voice trembling, desperate to explain. “I didn’t mean to, I… I tried, I—”
But no one listened.
“What should we do, Professor?” one of the men in white asked.
Emilia didn’t break her stare. Her silence crushed him, her glasses glinting as if to mask the disappointment written across her face. To him, it was more than disappointment. It was disgust. Hatred. Proof that he had failed her again.
Finally, she spoke. Her voice was like ice.
“Bring him back to his cage. As usual.”
The words shattered him.
“N-No! Nooo!” His legs buckled as he stumbled toward her, clutching at the hem of her coat with shaking hands. “P-Please, don’t bring me back there! Not the dark… I hate the dark!” His voice cracked into sobs. “I’ll do better! I promise—I’ll do good this time, I’ll… I’ll…”
For a heartbeat, something else flickered through his eyes—not just fear, but fury. His trembling fingers clenched harder on her coat, tugging as if to anchor her to him, to make her listen. His lips curled back, torn between a sob and a snarl.
But the strength collapsed as quickly as it came. Tears spilled freely down his cheeks, his defiance broken, his grip slipping away until he was only begging again. “Please… just one more chance…”
“Up you go.”
A hand gripped his shoulder. One of the men pulled him back, prying his fingers off Emilia’s coat. He struggled, fought, cried out, his arm stretching toward her even as his body was dragged away.
“Please—Professor, please! I won’t fail—I swear—I’ll do anything, anything!” His voice broke, shrill and hoarse. His trembling hands clutched at her coat, his mind twisting her cold presence into something else—someone else.
“Mother—please!” The word tore from him, raw and broken, not with reason but with desperate instinct. “Please, I’m scared! Don’t send me back there! I’m begging you, mother! No… nooo… NOOO!”
The door hissed shut behind them, sealing off his screams.
For a while, they could still hear him, pounding, pleading, wailing on the other side. His cries tore at the silence, until they grew weaker… and weaker…
And then nothing.
Only silence remained.
“GAAAGH!!”
The boy’s scream ripped through the cage as the man’s boot slammed into his stomach. His body curled inward, gasping for air that never seemed to come.
“GAAAAHHH!! STOOOP! PLEASE!! I’M BEGGING YOU! IT HURTS—!”
Another kick silenced his words, replacing them with raw, animal cries.
The beating continued without pause.
“It’s all because of you, you damn brat!” one of them spat, his voice heavy with contempt.
“Now we have to clean up your mess again.” A fist drove into the boy’s jaw, rattling his teeth.
“This is what happens when you fail her. Again.”
“GAAAGHHH!!” His scream broke into sobs as fists and boots rained down on every part of him—his face, his ribs, his arms trying feebly to shield himself. Every strike stole another fragment of breath, another shred of strength, until his body was nothing but pain.
He begged them, voice hoarse, desperate, but their ears were deaf.
They didn’t see him as human.
He was nothing but a failed experiment.
“Tch! At least this way we don’t have to supervise you anymore,” one muttered, pulling back with disgust. “Consider it your lucky day.”
“Like hell I ever want to see your pathetic face again.” The other leaned down and spat, saliva striking the boy’s cheek, sliding down to mix with blood and tears.
“Hope you don’t die before the next session,” he sneered as the sliding door hissed open. “It’d be too much paperwork.”
“What a waste. They never should’ve chosen you.”
The door sealed shut behind them, leaving only silence.
On the cold floor, the boy lay motionless. His body screamed with agony—every rib ached, his face throbbed, his bones felt splintered. He couldn’t even curl up anymore. Even the thought of moving a finger was impossible.
Yet he lived.
Barely.
His eyes fluttered open, blurred by tears. He could still breathe, shallow and ragged. That was all he had left—breath.
But the air was cold.
The room was colder.
And the loneliness that pressed down on him was colder still.
There was no one to warm him.
No one to reach for his hand.
No one to save him.
Only pain.
Only silence.
Only the dark.
Subject 01’s POV
I hate this place…
This place… it’s too dark… I can’t see anything…
I’m scared…
I wanna go home… but… I don’t even know what home is…
This is the only place I was born, and the only place I have lived.
It hurts… it hurts…
I hate it… I hate them so much,…
I’m tired… I’m tired…
I just want to die… I don’t like this…
I don’t want this life… I don’t want this life… I don’t …
I’m tired… I can’t take it anymore…
God… Why… Why do you let me born into this world…?
Why me… why…
*Sniff*
Why always me… why… why…
I hate them all… I hate them…
I don’t want this life anymore…
Please god… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me… take me…
Please… just take me… away… from this world…
I wanna die…
Several days later…
“Subject 01. You there… you’re still alive.”
The sterile air in the room felt heavier than before, the walls almost suffocating in their silence. The boy had wrecked everything within reach—even the scraps of food they had forced upon him. His hair hung longer now, tangled and unkempt. His cheeks were hollow, with bones jutting sharply beneath his pale skin; the same was true of his hands, which looked skeletal under the dim light. Hunger gnawed at him constantly, but he no longer cared to eat.
Even so… even with all his desperate prayers to gods that never answered, he continued to live.
Hunched in the corner, arms wound tightly around his knees, he lifted his head slowly at the sound of footsteps. His gaze met the man in the white coat—then fell again, bowing wordlessly.
“Thank god you’re still alive,” the man muttered coldly. “Would’ve been too much trouble if you died.”
The boy didn’t answer. He didn’t hear him, or perhaps he simply refused to care.
“But you’re lucky today,” the man added. “No test for you.” He gestured at the door. “Bring her in. And listen well, brat—be a good boy. If you mess with the newbie, I’ll crush you again.”
The sliding door hissed open.
Someone stepped into the cage. The man in the coat slipped out, leaving the two behind.
…
Silence.
No voices, no movement, nothing but the low hum of the lights.
Then—
“H-Hello…”
The boy’s body tensed. The voice was softer, unlike the sharp commands he was used to. Against his will, he lifted his head just enough to see.
A girl.
Black hair. White coat.
“A-Are you okay? You don’t look so good… are you eating well?”
Her voice wavered, but it carried something different. Concern. Empathy.
“…Hey. Are you alright?”
She knelt and reached out a hand toward him.
“DON’T TOUCH ME!!”
The boy’s cry tore through the room as he slapped her hand away, recoiling as if her touch might burn him. His body trembled, his breaths ragged. He glared at her with eyes full of fury, distrust, and exhaustion. Bruises stained his skin. Cuts marred his arms. He was a mess—broken in ways she could scarcely imagine.
Her hand stilled, but she didn’t withdraw.
She didn’t flinch.
Her eyes remained steady.
“Don’t worry,” she said softly. “I’m not here to hurt you.”
“It’s going to be alright.”
“You’re safe now.”
He stared at her in silence, his chest heaving. Something about her was different. Her eyes were not cold, not detached like the others’. They were warm—truly warm, filled with kindness. Even her smile carried a gentleness he had never known. It was real.
Her voice reached him like no other ever had. Warm. Human. For the first time, he felt a crack in the darkness.
Slowly, cautiously, the tension in his shoulders began to ease. His guarded glare faltered, replaced by something else—something closer to curiosity, almost fragile.
“You’re… Subject 01, right?” she asked carefully.
After a long pause, he gave the slightest nod.
Her smile widened, soft and genuine.
“Nice to meet you.” She placed a hand over her chest. “My name is—”
The words were cut off as the scene faded into silence.
TO BE CONTINUED…