Chapter 2
His eyes slowly opened. The room around him was nothing like he remembered. It was a perfectly square chamber, made of steel—or perhaps some other material—painted in a sterile white coat that gave off an unnatural silence and an oppressive loneliness. A single white LED light was embedded into the wall, its cold glow filling every corner without leaving a shadow.
The "bed" he was lying on wasn't even a real bed. It was just a solid cement block painted white, with a thin, supermarket-quality mattress thrown over it, a white blanket, and a standard pillow like the ones from cheap hotels. Beside it sat a plain white table with a matching chair, the kind you could order on Amazon. In the far corner of the room, a toilet and a sink were installed, looking eerily like something from an American prison movie.
Except for the black steel door, everything was drenched in white. White walls, white furniture, white bedding—white everywhere, until it was suffocating. He stood up groggily, like any guy who had just woken up, tugged his pants down, ready to relieve himself—just another mundane morning routine. But then…
His eyes widened in shock.
When his hand moved down between his legs, there was nothing. Absolutely nothing. Where his manhood should have been—gone. His breathing quickened as his hands moved frantically over the spot again and again. Still nothing. Smooth. Empty. Like it had never existed. His skin itself had become paler, softer, smaller. His hands were slimmer, delicate, like they belonged to someone else. Panic surged. He screamed, stumbling toward the mirror.
???
> Wtf… Fuck… Where the hell is my dick…
His reflection froze him in place. His whole body trembled, refusing to accept what he was seeing. In the mirror was no grown man, no trace of his old self, but a sixteen-year-old girl.
A petite loli with long, silky pink hair flowing down to her waist, the tips fading into soft white like cherry blossoms in bloom. Her face was smooth, porcelain pale, eyes a gentle sky blue that shimmered with an innocence he didn't feel. She was dressed in a simple orange jumpsuit—like something pulled straight out of an American prison drama.
Her height couldn't have been more than 155 cm. Hands trembling, she touched her own cheek—so soft, so smooth, so undeniably real. The shock overwhelmed her, and she screamed again. But this time, the sound that escaped was a high-pitched, cute, girlish voice.
???
> Fucking hell… Did I overdose on drugs or something…?
Desperate to prove it was just a dream, she slapped herself hard across the face. Pain exploded instantly, sharp and burning, making her stagger. Her cheek turned bright red—no dream, no illusion. The tears welled up uncontrollably, rolling down her face, staining the pristine white floor below.
And then—the black steel door at the end of the room creaked open.
Two halves of the door parted like jaws, and a presence stepped in. First came a pair of glowing crimson eyes, sharp and predatory. Then long, silken white hair, smooth as a fox's fur, framing pale, flawless skin. She wore a dark uniform resembling the SS officers of history, but with a modern insignia stitched on the collar—the unmistakable emblem of the EASRS Foundation.
Mei
> I AM OFFICER MEI… SINNER NUMBER 57. Commander of Alpha Unit 25, "Neo Neko." I am also the lead overseer of Project Clone Uta JP 1126, "Body Manipulation Stone." And you… Number 139… you are the only survivor out of twelve thousand experimental stones.
Her voice was firm, official—but then, almost comically, she let out a long yawn. At barely 154 cm tall, Mei's attempt to project authority was undercut by her exhaustion. Her crimson eyes drooped lazily, her body swaying slightly as if even standing here was too much effort.
Before Mei could say more, another figure entered the room. This one was shorter—about 152 cm—with shoulder-length white hair, round spectacles perched on her nose, and deep wine-red eyes that set her apart from Mei's blood-crimson. She wore a pristine white coat, the kind you'd expect from a researcher or scientist.
She adjusted her glasses, her voice calm, soft.
Qu
> Hello. My name is Qu. Yes… I am a scientist. And the leader of Neo Kitsune, or Beta 17.
Qu pulled a small identification card from her coat pocket and gently placed it into ???'s trembling hands. She leaned closer, smiling kindly. Then, with a swift, almost imperceptible motion, Qu pressed something against ???'s neck.
A sudden warmth spread. Her thoughts blurred. All of her memories were wiped clean.
Qu
> From now on, your name is Shion Takana. Age… 17.
Her mind reeled in confusion. Who was she? Where was she? The questions clawed at the edges of her consciousness, but no answers came. She tucked the ID card into her pocket, her face still flushed faintly red from the earlier slap, her eyes empty of rebellion or memory.
Then—suddenly—laughter rang out from behind her.
A long curl of golden-blonde hair brushed against her shoulder, followed by piercing yellow eyes that seemed to see everything. In that instant, Mei and Qu gasped in recognition, abandoning Shion entirely. They rushed forward, their voices trembling with joy, wrapping their arms tightly around the newcomer.
Sora.
How long had she been standing there, unseen? Her presence erased Shion's importance in an instant.
Ignored and disoriented, Shion stumbled out of the cell. The black steel door behind her bore a plate reading Uta UN 5112. Around her stretched endless corridors lined with countless identical cells, each marked with its own Uta designation. The facility itself was suffocating: concrete walls painted white with blue stripes running across them, security cameras watching from every angle, hallways stretching endlessly like a maze.
She walked aimlessly until a sharp klaxon shattered the silence. Red warning lights flashed along the walls. Cameras swiveled, locking onto her.
AI (over loudspeakers)
> Subject Uta UN 5112 confirmed breaching containment at Facility 17, Osaka. Subject has violated detention protocols. Unconditional surrender is required.
Armed soldiers stormed in from the end of the hallway, clad in tactical armor and heavy boots, M4 rifles raised and aimed directly at her. Shion froze, confusion clouding her mind. She didn't understand. She didn't even know who she was. Fear clawed at her chest. Her hands trembled.
A gunshot split the air.
The bullet tore into her arm, detonating in a spray of gore. Blood and flesh erupted, her limb blown apart instantly, her severed arm falling to the cold concrete floor. The soldiers tightened their grips, preparing for retaliation.
Shion stared at the mangled remains of her arm. She should have been screaming in agony. But instead… an unfamiliar thrill coursed through her veins. Excitement. Euphoria. Something dark, unexplainable.
And then—her flesh regenerated.
Bone and sinew crawled back into place, new flesh knitting itself together until a brand-new arm stretched from her shoulder. She looked down at the bloody severed limb still lying on the ground, then back up, dazed and trembling.
The soldiers shouted, panic in their voices.
And then—darkness.
When she opened her eyes again, the hallway was painted red with blood. Shattered bodies lay strewn across the floor, heads twisted grotesquely, limbs broken and torn apart.
And she… she was covered in blood, standing amidst the carnage.
A hand rested gently on her shoulder.
Sora's voice whispered softly, laced with a subtle, chilling threat.
[To be continued]