Episode 1

Today, I gave up counting the days.
Before my wounds could even close, the cold tips of needles forced their way in.
Drugs of unknown names and compounds.
Days where I was denied even the luxury of passing out.
Those who slept back-to-back with me one day
became the targets I had to kill the next just to survive.

One by one, familiar faces vanished into nothingness.
There were days when counting dates eased the agony,
but when I could no longer weigh one pain against a hundred,
numbers ceased to carry any meaning to me.
I cursed those whose footsteps I was forced to follow, calling them monsters.
Yet, when flesh-tearing pain became more natural than breathing,
all that remained in that cold laboratory were four failures labeled as beasts.

Just as my very reason to exist blurred into obscurity,
someone in a white coat stepped through the heavy door and spoke:
"Succeed in this mission, and you shall become proud agents of Aglaia."
The unspoken truth beneath those words was clear: Fail, and there is no next time.

Given our desperate plight, the assigned mission was shockingly simple:
disguise ourselves as servants and monitor a young girl.
Unable to return to that endless cycle of torment,
we clung to that single instruction with absolute desperation.
Yet, the young girl, unaware of her fate, declared that she required only one person.
A timid child, scanning the heavy atmosphere with unease,
yet fixing her eyes on mine with firm resolve.
I wonder what expression I bore when she chose me.

...It was merely luck. If I fail to prove myself I will be sent straight back.
Because I don't live every single day, I survive.

Episode 2

Adapting to a new life was easier than enduring pain.
Dressed neatly, observing strict etiquette, and attending her needs.
Reporting her routines under the guise of guarding deferred my disposal,
proving my meager worth.

To one with no choices, being chosen by her didn't mean much.

The girl was isolated, abandoned by her family.
Used to solitude, she named me yet forbade kindness.
Still, she left my share of treats every night.
With warmth I could not comprehend, she spoke happily of withering flowers,
and one day she invited me to tea in an abandoned garden.

Listening quietly was no act of pity, merely my duty.
For my given name and life meant nothing against the shadow of death.

Yet as goodwill returned for mere duty accumulated, so did my debt to her.
When paid for a side mission, I placed the reward in her jewelry box,
hoping to strip away any personal attachment and refocus on my mission.
Instead, the gem returned on my "birthday," forged into a heavy sword.

"Your birthday doesn't have to be the day you were born.
Consider this our bond, Seres."

A weapon far finer than standard daggers or cheap firearms.
Yet the faint, unpleasant sensation from the hilt’s gem was one I knew from the lab.
The "power" I had clawed for to survive, yet failed to gain.
Reporting this single detail could prove a different kind of worth.

The next day, she brought me the broken remnants of her torn dream.
As I quietly listened to her recount being trampled on,
helping piece the fragments together, she smiled brightly and called me "friend."
Though I claimed I had no right to hear it, that all was just orders,
she forgave everything, regretting nothing.
She was the first to need my existence, not my utility.

I did not send the report.
If this life was spared by you, living it for your sake is not so bad.

That day, the girl became my gentle master.

Episode 3

The days bought by my traitorous silence were immensely warm and peaceful.
Sipping tea in a forgotten corner of the garden, giving names to clumsy blueprints.
Sharing burnt cake while vaguely picturing tomorrow’s routine.
The contempt and criticism trailing behind us like shadows no longer mattered.

If only I had realized sooner...
That "they" were never ones to be so easily deceived.

[Surveillance mission terminated. Prioritize the Patriarch’s orders.]

Before regret could settle, disaster swelled like a tidal wave and swallowed us whole.
I was deployed into missions carried out in the name of Ferrante’s honor.

Before one could end, another began.
Heavy malice I was forced to face, leaving the young lady's light behind.

"Promise me you will be with me... at least on my birthday, won't you?"

I turned over those words and carved them into my heart,
spoken with a forced smile by one so accustomed to suppressing her emotions.
Through the mud, forcing my broken body past its limits, only one thing kept me going.
I had a place to return to, and a person waiting for me.

I must return. To our home, where you remain.
Because I have yet to wish you a happy birthday.

Yet, mocking my resolve, daylight broke again on a day I could no longer count.

Episode 4

The room I returned to was in complete disarray.
Not a single trace of the young lady remained.
Only the familiar power felt nearby hinted at what had happened to her.

I cannot remember what went through my mind as I rushed toward her.
Even if those trying to hurt her were my old peers behind the glass, it mattered not.
When I finally reached the young lady, she was in tears,
having become an Awakened, the very existence I had craved yet despised.

Seeing her, I ought to have been terrified, just as I once was.
Yet when confronted with that power I thought I had forgotten,
the emotion that surfaced was not fear, but a blind urge to protect her.
For I knew better than anyone that she was no monster.

The familiar pain forces its way through my veins, clawing at everything within,
and the sword in my grip shatters to pieces in place of an unscrewed scream.
I cannot recall the pain I felt, nor my thoughts at death's door.
I only wished to share her sorrow, and to see her smile rather than weep.

"If we are together, nothing in the world can stand in our way. Right?"

I must answer her, yet a body pushed past its limits refuses to obey.
Sensations fade as consciousness drifts further away. Reality becomes distant.
Even so, a familiar warmth remains distinctly clear.
Warm moments shared over tea with you.

If I can hold a sword once more, I will become the sword that protects you...

Chapter 1

Wayfarer passing by. Would you like to hear the tale of a lady of Ferrante who longed to be a musketeer?

The Ferrantes are an illustrious family with a long and noble heritage, and even today, the name is equivalent to prestige.
Nowadays, they devote their efforts to the defense industry, specifically the development and manufacture of firearms.
For that reason, the atmosphere in their household is exceedingly strict.

Father has always been a stern, taciturn man.
Mother… I have heard she was a gentle soul, but I have yet to meet her even once.
The lady has three older siblings. All three are fine individuals who kindly bestow their guidance upon her.
Eldest Sister inflicts severe punishment, Second Brother refers to her as "that thing,"
and Third Brother tosses her work directly into the trash… all merely as education to instruct the unworthy lady.
Aren't I blessed to have such fine siblings?

Even so, there was one person who never scolded this humble child.
My nanny was ever gentle, always comforting me and saying it was alright whenever I made a mistake.
Before I fell asleep, she would sit by my bedside and read tales of musketeers.
Thanks to the days I shared with my nanny, I found confidence.
I wished to prove myself to everyone and proudly become a true member of the Ferrante family.

However, nothing changed.

It was on a day when the family members had gathered, and I timidly offered my opinion regarding a new firearm.
The cold, piercing gazes of everyone present as they looked down at me is a sight this lady can never forget.
That day, Eldest Sister bestowed upon me an even greater lesson than usual.

The feeling of flailing my arms in empty space with nothing to hold onto… was terrifying beyond words.
Since then, I have avoided high places. Oh, but this lady bears no resentment toward Eldest Sister!
She was merely trying to maintain order within our house.

Still… even now, I occasionally wonder. If only I had kept my mouth closed, my nanny would still be by my side, reading those delightful stories to me.
After all, it was my thoughtless words that ultimately brought blame upon her.

Chapter 2

Even after that day, the manor remained unchanged.
Father and my brothers were always busy with new business ventures.
I felt terribly lonely. I could no longer listen to the musketeer stories I loved so dearly.
All I could do was sip tea in the garden by myself.

One day, a new gardener arrived at the estate.
It was truly wondrous to watch the flowers and trees regain their vibrant life whenever his shears moved.
I timidly approached the gardener to speak with him.
I brought up the stories of musketeers my nanny used to read to me, along with my earnest wish to craft a classy firearm.
He did not laugh or dismiss my words as nonsense.
He simply gazed out at the garden for a long moment before speaking softly.

"A lady like you could surely do it."

From that day on, I began drawing blueprints.
Looking back now, they were dreadful diagrams, but I poured my absolute best into them.
Referencing all sorts of texts and documents within the estate, I worked tirelessly day and night.
It was the very first thing this lady had ever accomplished on her own.
Before long, however, Third Brother discovered what I was doing.
The blueprints were cruelly torn to pieces right before my eyes.

I ran out into the garden.

Yet the gardner was nowhere to be found.
I was simply informed that he had been cast out of the manor for the crime of daring to speak with me.
After that, the vibrant life that once enveloped the garden vanished as if it had been a lie, leaving behind only lonely days of gazing upon a wilting garden.

Chapter 3

One day, the lady was seized by a mysterious, high fever.
When she became unable to move on her own, a person claiming to be the family's physician visited her.
Yet he could not cure her illness.
Ultimately, Father commanded that a dedicated servant be assigned to her side.
Shortly after, four candidates arrived at the manor.
Father told the lady to choose one of them herself.

I did not wish to choose anyone.
I had a lingering fear that whoever I chose might meet with misfortune.
However, out of them, the most ragged and covered in scars caught my eye.
Her eyes were the exact color of my nanny's. Without thinking, I ended up choosing her.

She did not even have a name.
They told me to address her simply by a number, but I could not bring myself to accept such a thing.
A name is something deeply important to a person, after all.
Taking inspiration from "serenity," the color of her eyes, I gave her the name "Seres."
I repeatedly cautioned Seres with utmost gravity that everyone who was ever kind to me eventually disappeared. I asked her not to concern herself with me.

Yet, as the time we spent together grew longer, I found myself confessing my innermost thoughts that I had buried deep inside for so long.
Stories of the loved ones I had lost, and the dreams I could never fulfill.
Seres always listened to my words quietly.
Finding immense comfort simply in her listening, I pulled out the old scraps of paper hidden inside my drawer.
Together with Seres, I pieced those small scraps back together, one by one.
It was a tattered, dreadful blueprint, but with Seres beside me, it felt as though the gun would be ready any day now.

One day, Seres presented me with a large, beautiful gemstone as a gift.
I divided that lovely stone in two, fashioning one half into a brooch for myself, and crafting a sword with the other to give to Seres on her birthday.
It was a one-of-a-kind token of friendship presented to the one who had silently listened to my trivial dreams.

And so, once again, a precious bond had formed in my life.

Chapter 4

Before long, Seres began slipping away frequently.
She would disappear without a word to me.
Whenever she returned late at night, she bore new injuries I had never seen before.
No matter how many times I asked why she was hurt or why she kept disappearing, she never answered.
Because everyone who was precious to me had vanished without a word.
I felt a little upset, but I was deeply thankful simply that she returned safely.

Time passed, and my eighteenth birthday arrived. We had promised to be together on this day,
yet when I opened my eyes in the morning, Seres was nowhere to be found.
I sat alone in my room, waiting. Until the hands of the clock passed midnight
and spun three full rounds more… But Seres never showed up.
Two days after my birthday, Eldest Sister visited, saying she had good news for me.
That news was that Seres was no longer among the living.

Those who stay by my side always vanish without a trace.
In the end, because I chose Seres, she too met with misfortune.
If my very presence here is a curse that steals away everyone I hold dear…
Then wouldn't it be better if this lady simply left this manor behind?

Chapter 5

All alone, like the musketeers in tales who set off on their adventures with but a single gun, this lady packed a modest bag and departed the manor.
However, I had no idea just how heavy the Ferrante name truly was.
Less than a few minutes after leaving home, I was set upon by assailants.
Everything after that remains only as fragmented memories.
Pain as though my entire body were shattering swept over me, and from afar,
I heard a voice desperately calling my name. It was Seres.
Tears streaming down her face, Seres held me tight in her arms.
But before that warm embrace could even linger, Seres was gravely injured while trying to protect me.

I did not want to lose my dear Seres!

In that moment, a musket that had existed only as a dreadful scribble miraculously materialized in my hands. For Seres, and alongside her, I defeated the villains.
Like the splendid musketeer in the tales my nanny used to read, I had finally done it.

When I came to my senses, Seres was no longer by my side.
Yet I remembered her voice promising that no matter where she was, she would come back for me.

And so, this lady will firmly believe and wait.

1. 187X

Welcome to The Dead Man’s Pour. Hm? I haven't seen you before. What brings a stranger like you out to this godforsaken hole?
Ah, lemme guess—here for the bounty on "Gimpy" McCraw?
Hate to break it to ya, but a fella named "Willie the Hick" rolled through last week and split McCraw’s head six ways to Sunday.
If you don't believe me, head out and keep right. Nobody wanted to clean up the mess.
Willie just took the head, it's all he needed to collect that bounty, after all.

Not here for that? Then what in the blazes are you here for?
You look too young to be hidin' out in a dump like this just 'cause you're scared of dyin'.
You're a bit spineless for these parts. Hell, half the folks out there are throwin' their lives away just to see their names written down in a history book.

What's that? Do I know anything about "Craver"? Don't tell me you're another one of those fools comin' here just because of a rumor.

Listen here, kid. None of the fellas who came askin' me about that ever made it back.
We're talkin' about famous bounty hunters and wanted outlaws. All of 'em are gone. Vanished without a trace.
I even hear rumors now and then about corpses walkin' those hills.
Forget the stories, son. I don't feel like havin' those poor bastards chasin' me through my own dreams anymore.

How 'bout a drink instead? Bourbon, Scotch... or if you're down on your luck, I got some rotgut gin that’ll set your throat on fire.
Take your pick. The first one is on the house, on the condition you don't ask about that business no more.

2. 194X

Damn it, I'm sick of this. When is this damn war gonna end?
My ears are still ringing from the shelling earlier.

Goddamn it, they're shelling the hell out of us again. I guess, there's no eating in peace today.
Hey, you! Got a smoke on you? Do me a solid.
Hoo... By the way, I haven't seen your face here. Are you a new recruit?
You believe in God? Guess your faith ain't that strong, considering you ended up in a hellhole like this.
What? You enlisted on your own? Well, I thought I'd seen every kind of lunatic out there, but I didn't think there were still some like you left.

What's your name? Carl? Look, we're just killing time anyway, so let me tell you what kind of place this is.
Hey, where do you think you're going? The inside of a trench looks the same all over. Just sit tight and listen to me. It'll do you some good.
...We had a friendly fire incident the day before yesterday. Sergeant Maxwell, a pretty decent guy.
Sometime last week, he showed me an old revolver, said he looted it after taking down some enemies.
It looked like an antique, so I didn't think much of it. But he was a collector, so I guess he knew what it was worth.

Well, that Sergeant Maxwell used that gun to kill several of his own men.
But that friendly fire incident wasn't an accident. He targeted his own men on purpose, and the higher-ups covered it up.
The guy had a great reputation and was trusted, I wonder if he just... snapped because of the war. Well, there's no shortage of madmen around here, but if you're gonna lose your mind, you could at least do it quietly.
But there is one thing that doesn't make sense. They said he shot 'em with an old revolver, so tell me how the hell he put that many bullet holes in them in such a short amount of time?
What the hell, I think I heard gunfire near the trench. Goddamn it, guess they won't even give us time to train you, new guy. What is it this time? ...Those crazy bastards, they're actually breaking into the trench. Everyone get ready!

...Carl, you alright? Damn it, every time with the new guys. Somebody get him out of here!
Wait... hey, you... what the hell are you doing? Everyone, get down! Carl! Take your hand off that damn grenade! Let go!

#3 19XX

1. Hey, do we really have to take it this far?
Look around, man. It's already over.
Both enemies and allies are already lying dead on the ground. One more body isn't gonna change a thing.
Damn it, I'm just a messenger! Why are you doing this? I'm not the one who invaded your turf... I didn't steal your clients.
Please, I swear on my life I won't tell a soul about what happened here. Letting one guy go isn't gonna make a difference anyway.
Please... I'm begging you....

2. Jesus Christ, I finally found you.
Hey, Miguel! What the hell are you thinking?
Yesterday you destroyed a block outside our turf, and now you're messing with the biggest gang in the city? Are you crazy? Think about your family, man.
You used to run like hell the second you saw a gun. Did you take a hit to the head or something?
Let's go to the boss right now and beg for forgiveness. It ain't too late yet.
Before more of 'em show up... Hey, Miguel. Are you listening to me? Hey!
Don't just sit there smirking. Say something, you idiot!

3. Miguel, you son of a....
I took you in when you had nowhere to go, and this is how you repay me?
Before I kill you, I want to hear from your own mouth why you turned on us.
...What the hell are you talking about... someone's got to die? Who?
You out of your mind? What the hell is wrong with you?

#4 20XX

Let's go back to the time when we first became aware of "our" existence.
It's gonna be a long story, so anyone who needs to use the restroom, now's your chance.

Ah, yeah, a long time ago, when rough sandstorms swept the wilderness and the air was dry and harsh, there was a gun.
An ordinary one. A common revolver.
But strangely enough, those who held it always ended up badly. Drifters, sheriffs, all of them.

"I'll get my revenge!", "I'll curse you even from the grave!", "I'd rather take everyone down with me than die alone!" Blah, blah, blah...
Isn't it funny? Guys trying to act tough even though there's nothing they can do once they're six feet under.
But you know, when human emotions gather and build up, sometimes the unexpected happens.
Curses, grudges, murderous intent... all those things piled up together, and that's how "We" were born.

From then on, we wandered around searching for owners worthy of us.
Gunslingers out West, soldiers losing their minds in the trenches, or guys right in the thick of the chaos....
In the end, they all died, rotted away, and turned to dust, but they were pretty fun guys in their own way.

Times have changed, though, now there are only boring people left.
This era is full of idiots who just keep talking about love and peace.
War and violence, disorder and despair, that's what we need.
What? "Our" existence started from those very things. It's what it is.

Anyway, that's why we ended up here.
This island is packed with disorder and violence.

So grab us. Think of it as a game.
Pulling the trigger isn't that hard, is it?

1. The Name

I hated my name. Well, not this one. I mean the ones I had before.
My parents and the elders kept changing it constantly.
I complained about it once and they got really mad.

Turns out, it was some kind of "spiritual ward".
They were trying to dodge some fate where I bring ruin to the family, or something like that.

But I just want to be me.
Not someone’s daughter or granddaughter, and definitely not a shaman. Just me.

I like being outside, I like betting, and yeah, I like causing a little trouble. Isn’t that just what life's about?
All that destiny and "order of the world" stuff... I’m not smart enough for all that.

I’d rather just listen to whoever is strong enough to win a fight. Isn't that better?

2. The Secret in the Jar

There was this jar in our house that had been sealed up for ages.
The elders told me never to go near it or look at it. They wouldn't even tell me what was inside.

Even that voice I used to hear told me not to touch it.
But when people tell you not to look, it just makes you want to look even more, right?

Hey, I was just a kid! Though honestly, I’d probably still open it today.
So, when no one else was home, I popped the lid and looked inside.

That was probably the first time in my life I actually regretted something.
For once, the elders were right.

It was a swarm of bugs and rotting, unrecognizable meat.
It definitely wasn't a normal worshipping jar.

What the hell were they actually worshiping?

3. The Illness

Well, not long after that happened, I started getting sick.
It was just a cold at first, but it got so bad I could barely move.
"Spirit sickness," they called it. It is a common thing in shaman families. My time had come.

But you know me. I wasn't about to just listen to them and accept the initiation.
Even when my body was falling apart, I resisted. I told them I’d rather die.

The elders didn't care about me, though. They only cared about the family legacy.
Watching them harass me while I was barely hanging on... even my own parents...
I started wondering if I even knew these people at all. They were so desperate it was terrifying.

Then one day, I had a dream. A foul black mist was creeping toward me, but then someone shouted loudly and chased it away.
Thinking back, it sounded a lot like the voice I used to hear sometimes. Well, not that it matters.

4. The Ceremony

I held out for a long time, but eventually the elders decided they "couldn't delay it anymore" and started the ritual to force the spirit in.

I hated it. I didn't have the strength to fight back or run away.
My mind and body felt like they were being ripped to shreds.

The foul energy from my dream was trying to crawl inside me.
I tried to resist, but like I said, I was as weak as soggy paper.

Then, I heard a voice. It was clear and sharp this time.

"Accept me."
It wasn't the foul, disgusting voice. This one was clear, bright, and full of mischief.

Sometimes I think back to that day.
No, I don't regret wrecking the house, and I don't dwell on the pain.
I just think about how that was the most fun I've ever had!

5. Corroboration

VF has existed for a very long time, and traces of VF and "Awakeners" can be found throughout ancient texts.
They have been passed down through myths, receiving both awe and fear for their superhuman power.

However, very few groups have maintained their lineage to the present day.
Therefore, we are focusing our research on the connection between VF and Shamanism in certain Asian regions.

Shamans are generally divided into two types: "Initiated" and "Hereditary".
Initiated shamans physically host a god or ancestral spirit, while hereditary shamans serve the gods without hosting them directly.

Since the data from our current hereditary sample, 14M-RFT12 (Hyejin), cannot explain the relationship between physical hosting and VF, our priority is securing a sample from an initiated shaman.

If Shamanism is linked to VF as we suspect, studying these lineages could provide significant data on VF genetic traits.

We intend to use an initiated shaman sample to verify the specific anomalies found during our VF inheritance theory research.

In short, by focusing on Shamanic culture, this study aims to observe and analyze the phenomenon where multiple individuals with high VF awakening potential emerge simultaneously within a specific group.

Chapter 1: Grey

Fated as the middle child between a gifted older brother and a talented younger sister,
the people I was supposed to call parents never spared a glance for me.
At first, they seemed to expect something.
They were always comparing me to my siblings,
whispering that I could do it too if I tried.

Despite those expectations, I achieved nothing.
My parents’ heavy sighs and sharp rebukes haunted me,
while my brother and sister simply mocked me from the sidelines.

By the time they looked at me again, their gaze held nothing but coldness.
Eventually, even that coldness vanished. To my family, I was an invisible presence;
it made no difference whether I was there or not.

To keep them from abandoning me entirely,
I stared into a small hand mirror and practised how to smile kindly.
No matter what they said or did to me, I kept smiling.
I did it because it was the only thing I knew how to do.

One day, the colour bled out of my sight.
My ornate desk, my bedding, even my favourite pink dress.
Everything in the world began to look like ash.
I told them, desperate for any shred of help, but they just shouted at me to stop lying.
They treated me like a lunatic.

And so, my childhood was stained in a faded, hollow grey.

Chapter 2: White

After some time passed, I began to draw quite a bit of attention.
But for those who approached me with a smile,
their primary interest was my family, not me.
No matter what I did, they didn't care about who I was.
No one looked at me with sincerity.
That was when I saw it: something black squirming within the grey crowds.

Even so, there was nothing I could do.
I was Coraline Quincy, the girl who was kind to everyone.
My vision grew cloudier, slowly becoming stained with black.

Then, one day, I saw a streak of white light amidst the grey.
That girl was the first instance of vivid clarity I had ever encountered.
When our eyes met, she walked up to me and spoke.

"Your eyes are the colour of pink lemonade. Pretty."

It was the first compliment I had ever received in my life.

Phoebe was a pure soul who didn't know how to lie.
She never used meaningless flattery,
and sometimes she even scolded me to set my behaviour right.
She was the only white light shining in my darkening world.

That's how we became best friends,
and I was no longer the Coraline who had to be kind to everyone.

Chapter 3: Black

Someone once said that the brighter the light, the darker the shadow beneath it.
As that white light illuminated my world, the grey people around us began to turn
pitch black. I didn't think much of it at the time. As long as I had that white light,
it didn't matter how dark my surroundings became.
But once they turned completely black, they bared their teeth, not at me, but at Phoebe.

They attacked us relentlessly, leaving us no place to hide and no moment of peace.
But what I found most unbearable was how they fabricated stories
to drive a wedge between us.

She was fading right in front of me.
After all, to be white means it is all too easy to be stained by any other colour.

I did everything in my power to protect her. I shouted, I begged for help,
and sometimes I even fought back with my fists. But the pitch-black evil
kept rushing in like a tide, eating away at her. Before I knew it,
she had lost her white light and merged into that hideous black.
Then, that terrible darkness turned its gaze toward me, looking for its next meal.

When Phoebe stabbed me, I heard something snap inside.
I don't remember much after that. All I can recall is a blur of black and red,
and the sound of groaning.

My eyes eventually regained their colour, but I had lost my light.
The world locked me away in a room where there was nothing but white.
Ironically, that brought me peace. In that stark white room with no grey or black,
I spent my days staring into a small mirror.

Chapter 4: Truth

The solitary cell in the psychiatric ward was filled with nothing but silence.
In a world where only I existed, I encountered the most perfect white.
The light seeping through the tiny window,
the small hand mirror reflecting me without lies.
I couldn't even move my body as I pleased,
but for some reason, my mind was calm.
The mirror was more honest than anything else in the world.

Within that glass, following the flicker of my gaze,
I was the only light that hadn't been stained by the grey world.
After years of staring into that mirror, I finally realized the truth.
The world is divided strictly into black and white.
And I had become able to perfectly discern the hideous corruption within people.

One day, Phoebe came to see me with a smile.
She asked how I was and said she was sorry for what happened back then.
But the pure white light I remembered was gone.
In its place was a hideous pile of filth, stained black.
The moment I realized the truth, my hand mirror flashed
and erased that dirty black from the world.
My hospital gown was stained red, but the world was glowing whiter than ever before.

The doctor, who had been watching the scene with indifference,
told me the time had come. He spoke of an island stained with lies
and told me that I was the only one who could pass judgement.
His words were as white as the coat he wore.

This is a revelation.
Just as light dispels the dark, I exist to judge all falsehood.
I am the Truth and the White of this world,
the judge who will burn away every lie and condemn every sinner.

...

You, you're a liar, aren't you?

1. A New Race of Extraordinary Humans

Humanity no longer evolves.
Advances in science have erased the need for humans to change their bodies
to survive the environment. The rise of civilization and the comforts of a settled life
have made movement and adaptation unnecessary.

Does this mean humanity has perfectly adapted to the present, no longer needing to
spend energy on change?

No.
Humans have simply grown complacent in peace and convenience,
and forgotten evolution itself. They close their eyes to the coming end of their species
and pretend it does not exist. Among them, there is no door that leads forward.

Evolution must continue.
And it is necessary to remember who ruled this land before humans ever called
themselves its masters, and what allowed them to dominate the Earth for so long.

2. What Remains (1)

Ah. You’re finally awake. Can you hear me?
Hmm. Judging by your reaction, your sight and hearing seem fine.
I suppose it’s too early to expect actual words from you.

Well, you can’t expect to be good at everything all at once.
Being able to express yourself at all is good enough for now.

Alright, then. Let me properly introduce myself. From now on,
I’ll be in charge of your growth and education. You can call me Dr. ■■■.
I normally work in another department, but this one lacked anyone responsible
for education, so I was assigned here temporarily.

I suppose that makes me your teacher. Or maybe your parent. Haha.

That look tells me you don’t understand a word I’m saying. Good.
Then let me tell you something you’re better off not understanding.

Soon, everyone here except me will subject you to repeated,
horrific experiments. They will do anything to make you feel pain.

When that happens, you won’t have many choices.
You will either adapt, or fail to adapt and be discarded.

Ah. Did I say too much? Did I scare you? Haha.
… I intend to get you out of this place, though.
I don’t know how long it will take, but I promise I'll pull you out of this hell.

For now, you’re trapped.
But one day, I’ll let you go wherever you want.

Until then, please do your best to survive.

3. What Remains (2)

Hello, little one. How are you feeling today? There’s no need to be so wary.
Hmm. You’re growing faster than I expected. It’s only been a year, and already
the cage looks too small for you.

Haha. Yes, that’s fine. Take your anger out on me instead.
Just don’t break anything that will make them hate you even more, like last time.

You must feel suffocated. I’m sorry. There’s nothing I can do for you just yet.
I did request an expansion to improve your living conditions, though.
Soon, you’ll have a room of your own.

Still, it seems your ability grows along with your body. Your recovery speed is
remarkable. Now that I’m here, your wounds are already gone, so I can’t even
tell what they did to you today.

…The fact that you still have the strength to lash out at me means it wasn’t
the worst day, at least.

Ahem. Enough of the heavy talk. Let’s continue the book we were reading.
Now then, where did we leave off? Ah, here!

“The colossal wolf was stripped of its freedom by the frightened gods who deceived him…”

4. What Remains (3)

Hey, buddy. How was today?
You don’t look too bad. Good.

I actually came here with good news.
And now I can finally tell you.

Everything is ready to get you out of here.
You endured three long years. You did well.
You haven’t changed. That confused expression of yours is still so you. Haha.

Three years. Three long years already.
I never thought it would take this long. If I had known, I would have intervened
more directly. I’m ashamed. I truly am sorry.

Anyway, apologies and celebrations can wait until after you’re free.

Since we’re at it, how about choosing a name?
I can’t exactly keep calling you my “guinea pig” once we’re outside.

Fenrir? Haha. I guess that story really left an impression on you, didn’t it?
Alright then, Fen. What do you want to do first once we’re out?

5. What's Left Behind

Are you awake, little guinea pig?
You looked like you were having a rather pleasant dream.

Hmm. Your expression tells me you’re wondering why I'm here.
I’m the one who's wondering... Were you waiting for someone else?

Ah. Dr. ■■■, was it?
Now that I think about it, this would normally be your lesson time with him.

Unfortunately, you won’t be seeing him again.

Did you really think we had no idea what you two were planning?
Honestly, you were both far too arrogant.

We knew, and we allowed it.
It seemed like an excellent opportunity to gather data.
We wanted to test your sense of direction, your judgment, and how you
respond to a crisis. You didn’t quite meet the standards we were hoping for.
But that’s fine. You can learn the rest in the field.

You must have suffered greatly, being confined in such a small space for three years.
This may not be much of a reward, but we’ll grant you what you desired most.

Freedom.

Enjoy it while you can.

1. A Life Full of Hardship

There are lots of people born into a life of nothing but hardship.
Mirka is one of them.

Born in the slums, the daughter of a prostitute and a criminal, she was
neglected from an early age. Once she was old enough to fend for herself,
her father began sending her out to beg for money, which he’d later spend
on alcohol.

Day after day, rain or shine, she was forced to bring home the exact amount
he demanded, and if she came home short, he’d beat her. Mirka cried herself
to sleep every night, knowing there wasn’t a single light of hope waiting for her.

A few years later, she found other kids who shared her background and
struggles. Together, they turned to petty crimes like pickpocketing, stealing
whatever it took to get by. She knew it was wrong, but she had no choice.

It was the only way to keep from getting beaten, to stop the tears,
and to survive.

2. Turning Point (1)

The biggest turning point in Mirka's life was probably the birth of her
baby brother, Matyáš.

When she was about to turn ten years old, her mother, who was pregnant
again, died during labor. After the incident, her father ran away, leaving them
both behind. Mirka looked into her baby brother’s eyes, those round, innocent,
and pure eyes staring back at her, and thought,
“I’ll protect his life no matter what it takes.”

But even that promise seemed to fade quickly as her little brother's physical
condition began to decline, perhaps because of the loss of their mother.
Little Mirka, holding her feverish brother in her arms, went out into the street.

3. Turning Point (2)

Tears streaming down her face, she cried out for help.
"Please. someone help my little brother... Please!"
But the sight of her only drew the attention of people with bad intentions,
their eyes lighting up at the sight of two defenseless children.
No one looked at them with compassion.

Mirka knew. She knew what kind of place it was.
Suddenly, someone grabbed her firmly by the shoulder and pulled her
into an alley. She held her breath and looked up at the stranger,
a woman carrying a large bag.

The woman introduced herself as a pharmacist and immediately diagnosed
Matyáš. After a brief treatment, she put a few pills for the baby in Mirka's
small hand.

Thank you... thank you so much,” Mirka said, weeping.
In her little voice, she then asked, “B-but why are you helping us?

"──────────────────," the woman quietly said before leaving.

The tears stopped, and instead, Mirka’s eyes turned red, as if she had
realized something and made up her mind.

4. A Boss is Born

After that encounter, Mirka was never the same.
Everything she got or was put through, she paid back in kind.

From a small, scrappy girl to a wild dog, and from a wild dog to being called
“Boss”, she fought, bled, and carved her way through every hardship.

Soon, others began to follow her. She was small but strong, tough but
open-hearted, and people were drawn to her mix of loyalty and warmth.

Looking at those who stood behind her, Mirka vowed she would never forgive
anyone who messed with her people. No matter who they were, they would pay
exactly what they deserved.