Tik… tik… tik… tik…
…
A violent shock ripped through him.
In an instant—he lurched upright.
"WAIT…!!!"
A raw scream tore out of him, his hand shooting forward, clawing at the empty air… grasping for something—someone—that wasn't there.
His long, dark hair spilled over his face, sticking to his skin with sweat. His breaths came out sharp, ragged—like a starved animal denied water. His lungs dragged in air desperately, yet nothing felt enough.
His entire body trembled… drenched… vibrating with leftover agony.With one shaking hand, Yuri covered his face.
His eyes darted around the room—frantic, unfocused—haunted by voices only he could hear. Hundreds of them. Screaming. Whispering. Laughing. Begging.
He squeezed his skull between his palms—
"what… is… what… p-please…"
The agony hit harder.The air seared his lungs. His heart hammered violently—fast, reckless—like it was about to burst through his ribs.
Every joint. Every tendon. Every muscle.
It felt as if invisible hands were tearing him apart piece by piece.
"GHAAAAAAA—!!!! GHA—AAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!"
His voice ricocheted violently off the sterile white walls, echoing through the hollow room, rattling the metal frame of the bed beneath him.
And then—
Gone.
The pain cut off instantly.Silence.Peace—fragile, cold… almost mocking.
Yuri's eyes shot to the door as it flung open.
Seven figures stormed in.
Expressionless white masks… cold, uniform.Three held guns.Four carried blades.
His body still felt foreign, unresponsive, his senses scattered like broken glass—but danger was something Yuri's instincts never failed to recognize.
The blade wielders charged first.The gunmen held position.
BANG!—BANG!
The shots cracked through the room.
Yuri's instincts snapped awake—his body moving before his mind did. He twisted, ducked, slipped past the bullets with desperate precision.
A blade whistled toward his skull—He dipped under it, angled his elbow up sharply, knocking the sword into the air—
Then—CRACK!
A spinning kick smashed into the attacker's mask, sending him flying.
More rushed him. Bullets screamed.Yuri leapt, twisting midair, the world blurring around him. He kicked the airborne blade—launching it like a thrown spear straight into another mask, piercing through the cheek.
Another sword was drawn—Yuri's heel crashed into the hilt, slamming it back into its sheath as he dropped to the ground. He grabbed the wielder by the collar, jerking him into the line of fire—using him as a shield as bullets hammered into the body.
The last sword-wielder froze. Trembling. Unable to pull his weapon.Yuri ripped the sword from his grip and, with one fluid sweep, drove it clean through the three gunmen.
The blade slipped from his fingers—clattering to the floor.
His breaths were heavy. His thoughts jumbled and scattered.For a moment—just one—he felt a sliver of stillness.
He stared at the final masked figure who shook uncontrollably, too afraid to move.
Then he felt it.A presence. Sharp. Cold.
His body moved on instinct—turning, striking—
But the blow never landed.
She stopped it. Effortlessly.
His vision was a haze, but he caught glimpses—Long white hair, tied back in looping strands…Golden eyes that glowed like lit embers against her dark skin…An aura that pressed down on him like gravity itself.
Her hand gripped his fist.Before he could react—
BAM!
A clean, brutal strike to his chin.
His body flew upward—then crashed hard into the floor.
"Stand down."Her voice was flat, strict… undeniably commanding.
Yuri lay on his back, groaning—not sensing any killing intent from her. The pain stabbed through him, relentless. His chest heaved as he fought to catch his breath. His mind drifted… blurred… and darkness swallowed him whole.
…
When he opened his eyes again—the world had shifted.
The air was calm.His heartbeat steady.His body finally obeying him.
He stared at the plain white ceiling for a long moment, letting deep breaths ease through him. His mind felt foggy—thick—but clearing.
He slowly turned his head.
She sat at the edge of the bed.
The white-haired authority. Her hair now tied into tight buns, arms crossed, golden eyes fixed on him like he was a puzzle she'd already solved. Sunlight hit her skin through hidden ceiling panels, making every delicate, striking detail sharper… harsher.
"Don't strain yourself by trying to speak," she said, tone low, expression unreadable. "Keep your words as short as possible."
Yuri hesitated—searching for air, then words.
"w-where… am I…?" he managed.
The woman answered instantly.
"You're in the possession of the Head Assassin of the (insert corp/organization name). And you," she continued, unwavering, "are their full property."
Yuri paused.His mind tried to connect the pieces—failing.
He pushed himself upright, using the bedframe for support. His eyes scanned the room—every corner, every detail. There wasn't much to see:Plain white walls. Lights embedded across the ceiling.No windows.No visible door.
Just… confinement.
"I just said not to drain yourself with unnecessary movements," she snapped sharply, her tone cutting through the silence like a blade.
Yuri looked down at himself—He wore a loose white shirt, oversized, and matching pants.
He ran a shaky hand through his hair—And froze.
It was longer. Thicker. Heavier.
His fingers drifted to his face… confusion tightening his stare.
His voice trembled.
"How long… have I been here…?"
Her silence stretched—thick, unsettling.She stood, turning her back to him as she walked toward the wall.
When she finally spoke, her words were slow. Measured. As if rehearsed.
"You need rest. Let your body heal. Do not attempt anything unnecessary that may strain you. Food and water will be delivered. So will any necessities."
A section of the wall slid open without a sound.
She stepped through.
It sealed behind her.
Leaving Yuri alone again.
His head throbbed. His thoughts tangled. Too many pieces missing… too much noise in his mind. He tried to force everything together, to understand this place, this woman… this fate they'd chained him to.
But one thing was painfully clear.
He wasn't leaving this room anytime soon.