When the girl awoke, the hunger was there—deep and insatiable, gnawing at her core. She knew, with chilling certainty, that ordinary food would never satisfy it. An alien truth sat heavy in her mind: she had become one of them.

An anomaly. A cursed existence.

Something dark, instinctual, stirred inside her. She didn’t need to question it. She knew exactly what she had to do.

It was time to hunt.

“There are no other anomalies in this city.” Her voice was a whisper to the empty air. Since her transformation, she had learned to sense other anomalies by their scent, sharp and strangely sweet, a scent that beckoned to her. But the city felt empty, devoid of anything that could satisfy her.

With a thought, she summoned the book. Its cover, a worn and blackened leather, bore the faint image of a grinning clown, its eyes flickering with white fire.

She ran her hand over it, and as her fingers touched the fire, a screen ignited in midair, the flames forming words and symbols. Seven colored panels appeared on the screen: white, blue, purple, orange, red, gray, and black.

She knew these colors well—they were the levels of danger, the game’s attempt to categorize anomalies.

The last two tiers were legends, rumors gathered from the ruined research notes that other players had found and uploaded online. No one who encountered these levels.

But for now, only the white and blue levels were unlocked. She frowned, tapping the blue panel. The other options faded, and a single number appeared on the screen: 7.

“Seven lives,” she murmured, her finger tracing the number. “Seven chances to revive.”

She reached out, pressing her hand against the number, knowing what it meant. The blue anomaly was close. The screen glowed, and in an instant, a wave of darkness swept over her, smothering her senses.

Her vision blurred, her limbs went slack, and she felt herself slipping away, like a puppet severed from its strings.

---

The next time she opens her eyes, darkness still clings to her. The air is dense and stale; she can’t see a thing. Her heart races as she strains her eyes, but there’s only blackness.

A faint hum reaches her ears, a muffled vibration—“Bzzzz…”—the low, thrumming sound of a car engine. So they’re still moving, still in transit. She tries to lift her hand, only to feel cold metal biting into her wrists. She’s handcuffed. She twists her hands and yanks, but the restraints don’t budge.

A sigh escapes her lips. She must still be as weak as a child, she thinks. Just then, she hears it: the muffled cries of other children around her, broken, pleading whispers in the darkness.

“I want to go home…”

“Please... release me…”

Suddenly, a harsh, metallic bang erupts beside her, and a gruff voice snarls, “Shut up, you little pieces of—”

But the shouting only makes the children’s cries grow louder, more desperate. Knocks and bangs echo from all sides, the sounds bouncing off metal walls, sealing them in a cage of helplessness.

“Too noisy,” she mutters, irritated.

They ride on in silence until finally, the engine grinds to a halt. The dark stillness is oppressive, but the children sense it too—any noise now could mean danger.

Moments later, there’s a loud clang as a door swings open, flooding the compartment with harsh fluorescent light. She squints, and for the first time, catches sight of the person who’s been barking orders.

A scarred man stands silhouetted in the doorway, his figure casting a looming shadow. The dim light gleams off a crow emblem sewn onto his uniform, a mark that seems to hold dark significance.

“Fate is funny,” the girl mutters to herself, realizing she’s encountered these people before.

“Out. All of you.” The man’s voice cuts through the silence, gruff and impatient. The children obey, scrambling to their feet. Some of them shoot fearful glances at the man as they step off, wary of punishment for even the slightest delay.

The girl steps down and finally sees it—the sprawling outline of a laboratory. Its towering structure looms like some monstrous beast waiting to devour them. The children around her shrink back, eyes wide with dread, but she feels something else stir within her—a strange temptation, almost hunger.

Strange, enticing smells drift from the building, something only she seems to notice. A feast, perhaps, one she’s certain is meant for her alone.

Lost in thought, she doesn’t notice the man urging them forward until his hand pushes her roughly along. They pass through a small entrance and into a narrow, darkened corridor.

The shadows close in as they walk; one of the kids beside her starts trembling, their breaths coming in shaky gasps. She glances at him, wondering if it’s fear of the dark or something far worse.

Eventually, they reach a massive metal door. The man inputs a code on a dim screen, and with a hiss, the door slides open.

Once the children have filed through, the door slams shut behind them, sealing them in a vast, cavernous room. It resembles a living area of sorts, though everything about it is artificial, hollow, and unnervingly silent.

The walls are lined with metallic panels, and harsh fluorescent lights cast an unforgiving glow over the occupants within.

Two distinct groups await them, positioned like opposing forces on either side of the room. To the left stands a thin man with a sharply angular face, his lips twisted into a sneer that barely hides his contempt. He has a scar that slices across his cheek, giving him an even more sinister appearance.

Flanking him are two hulking men, each with thick arms folded across their chests, their expressions blank but menacing. Behind them, a group of rough-looking individuals stands at attention, a gang of sorts, eyes flickering with a predatory gleam as they assess the newcomers. The man’s eyes roam over the children, cold and calculating, as though assigning a price to each terrified face.

On the right side of the room, a young man with tousled blond hair and gentle eyes observes the scene with a calm, almost reassuring presence. Draped over his back, a small girl with soft green hair clings to him, her wide eyes watching the children with a mixture of curiosity and caution.

Around them stands a cluster of other children, all appearing strangely serene, their faces free of fear and worry. Together, they give off an air of warmth and familiarity, like a family waiting to welcome new members.

The children glance from one side to the other, caught between two opposing forces—the intimidating group with their sharp glares and the friendly-looking cluster that seems almost too welcoming.

A heavy silence settles over them, thick with the unknown, and an unspoken question hangs in the air: Where are they going next, and who among these strangers will decide their fate?

The man with green hair and a jagged scar on his cheek scans the group of trembling children, a cold gleam in his eyes. With a quick, dismissive gesture, he points to a few of them, mostly those with striking features or sturdy builds. His lackeys move in immediately, grabbing the selected children and pulling them roughly toward his side.

Some children struggle, reaching out in desperation, but they’re silenced with brutal punches to their stomachs, doubling over in pain.

The green-haired man smirks, turning to the blond boy in the opposing group. His voice oozes with mock courtesy. “You don’t mind if I take these, do you?”

The blond boy sighs, his expression resigned as he nods. “Fine, I’ll take the rest.”

Behind him, the small girl with green hair, her face tense with worry, tugs at his sleeve and murmurs softly, “But Chris…”

He shakes his head, as if already knowing her concern. “Luvia, we have to honor the agreement.”

The green-haired man, David, sneers at Luvia, his voice thick with menace. “Chris is right. Mind your own business, chibi.”

Caught in David’s piercing stare, Luvia shrinks back, pressing herself behind Chris.

Chris’s eyes narrow as he faces David, his voice sharp. “That’s enough, David.”

David’s sneer falters, but only for a moment. He clicks his tongue, feigning boredom. “Tch.” With a dismissive wave, he signals his lackeys to herd the newly chosen children away. But as they turn, David’s gaze lands on a small figure in Chris’s group—a beautiful girl with platinum-white hair. His eyes widen with surprise and something darker.

“How did I miss such a beauty?” David mutters to himself. His hand lifts to signal one of his lackeys, but Chris steps forward, his tone low and dangerous. “Don’t get greedy, David.”

David’s lip curls in a taunting grin. “And who are you to lecture me, hypocrite?”

But Chris holds his ground, his expression unwavering. After a tense silence, David gives an exaggerated sigh, waving his hand for his men to retreat, and finally steps away with his group of selected children.

Once they’ve left, Chris pats Luvia’s head gently, his voice softening. “That girl… She’s going to have a hard time with a face like hers.” He nods toward the white-haired girl in their group. “If you can, give her a hand.”

Luvia hesitates, her eyes flicking toward the girl with uncertainty, but then she nods. She steps forward, her movements tentative, and makes her way over to the platinum-haired girl, who watches her with wary eyes.

The little girl with platinum hair stares at Luvia as she approaches, her expression unreadable, almost unnervingly blank. The coldness in her gaze makes Luvia hesitate, a prickling unease crawling up her spine.

For a moment, she considers retreating back to Chris’s side, but she steels herself and takes another small step forward.

Standing before the girl, Luvia realizes that, though she’s small herself—barely reaching 1.35 meters—she still has a head’s height over this mysterious child. But the aura the girl projects is something else entirely, a strange, quiet pressure that makes Luvia feel smaller, despite their difference in size.

“Uhmm…” Luvia begins hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper. She swallows, trying to muster some courage, and manages a shy greeting. “Hey there… Uhmm, what’s your name?”

Name… The girl seems to mull over the question, her eyes narrowing slightly, as if she’s forgotten the answer. After a pause, she speaks in a soft, detached voice. “Io. You can call me Io.”

Luvia blinks, then clears her throat awkwardly. “Ehem, Io…” She glances back at Chris, eyes pleading for some kind of guidance. Chris sighs, unable to resist a faint smile, and strides over to join them.

“Hi, Io,” he says warmly. “I’m Chris, leader of the ‘Wing to Paradise’ group. We’re staying here for now.”

Io’s brows crease at the odd name, and Chris chuckles, sensing her thoughts. “Yeah… everyone reacts like that the first time they hear it,” he admits with a dry laugh.

Io nods slowly, as if agreeing. What kind of group name is that? They sounded a little too cheerful, maybe even eccentric, to be in a place like this.

Chris shifts to a gentler tone. “Our Luvia here is staying alone,” he explains, casting a kind look at Io. “Would you mind staying with her?”

Io studies Luvia for a moment, her gaze cool and measured. Finally, she shrugs, her expression unreadable, and gives a short nod.

As Io ventures deeper into the laboratory, the surroundings grow unexpectedly brighter, a sharp contrast to the dim corridors she first encountered. Yet, the light does nothing to ease her discomfort.

If anything, it makes everything feel strangely artificial, as if someone tried too hard to mimic a welcoming environment. Even the trees planted along the main path seem unnatural, their leaves too green and their branches too stiff, as if rooted in something they shouldn’t be.

Io follows the broad walkway and soon spots other children. They look content—laughing, talking, even playing together, their faces shining with an unsettling brightness that feels wildly out of place. Io frowns, the dissonance jarring.

They should all be kidnapped like us, right? she mutters, her thoughts slipping into words.

Luvia, walking beside her, hesitates before responding, as though trying to find a way to ease Io’s concerns. “Uhmm… It’s not too bad, you know. Staying here isn’t as bad as it looks.”

Not too bad? Io’s icy glare pierces through Luvia, who falls silent, lowering her gaze as if scolded. Io finds it impossible to imagine anything worse than being held captive here—especially in a place tied to the “Crows” and whatever twisted experiments they had in mind.

Luvia remains quiet for the rest of the walk, leading Io up to a high-rise apartment building. It looms above them, ten floors stretching high like a series of stacked cages. Without a word, Luvia brings her to the top floor, where their room waits at the very end of the corridor.

As they reach the final door on the left, Io tilts her head, puzzled—there’s no handle on the door.

“Ah, right. You’ll need this,” Luvia says, rolling up her sleeve to reveal a barcode tattooed onto her arm. She presses it against a scanner embedded in the door, which beeps softly, and with a light ting, the door clicks open, swinging inward to reveal their living space.

Io peers inside, estimating it to be no more than twelve square meters. Bunk beds pressed against one wall, two small desks for studying, and a compact bathroom barely big enough to turn around in.

The walls are stark white, unadorned, offering nothing but a cold, clinical atmosphere.

“It looks like a prison,” Io mutters.

Luvia, looking defeated, bounds inside and climbs up to the top bunk. “I’ll take you to pick up daily items later,” she says with a weary sigh. “But right now, I need a break.”

Io watches her with a mixture of pity and curiosity, wondering how a girl like Luvia has managed to survive in a place like this, seemingly unfazed.

She closes the door, noticing a handle on the inside—at least they could lock themselves in.

Sliding onto the lower bunk, Io lies still, pretending to rest, her mind quietly whirring as she organizes the pieces of information she’s gathered so far. This place is more than a prison… but just how much more?

After taking the rest for a while, Luvia takes Io to the laboratory storage to pick up her daily necessities, then leads her on a short tour around the complex. Eventually, they return to their apartment, where Io encounters her first real challenge in this place.

It begins when she spends a little too long in the bathroom. Eventually, there’s a soft knock on the door.

“Io? Are you there?” Luvia’s voice is cautious but concerned.

“Yes…” Io’s voice sounds a little strained.

“What’s wrong?” Luvia asks, sensing something amiss.

“…I’m having trouble with the clothes.”

“Huh?” There’s a pause before Luvia, a bit nervously, asks, “Do you…want me to come in?”

Io hesitates, her mind caught between pride and practicality, but finally, she relents. “Yes.”

Luvia steps inside, finding Io staring at a bra, clearly stumped. Luvia stifles a laugh; seeing the usually composed Io so lost over something so ordinary is strangely endearing.

“All right, let me help you,” Luvia says with a warm smile, moving over to assist. She carefully helps Io put on the bra, patiently explaining each step so Io will know what to do next time.

“You seem pretty familiar with helping others with this kind of thing, Luvia,” Io observes, watching her companion’s steady hands as she finishes adjusting the straps.

Luvia pauses, momentarily surprised by the comment. A shadow crosses her face, and she looks down, her eyes tinged with a sadness she quickly tries to hide.

Noticing the shift, Io glances away, choosing not to press. She senses there’s more to Luvia than she initially thought, but now doesn’t feel like the right time to pry. “Thank you…” she murmurs, awkwardly shifting the topic to ease the tension.

Luvia seems to appreciate the gesture. She waves her hand dismissively, managing a light smile. “Don’t worry about it,” she says, brushing off any lingering awkwardness.

As the evening progresses, the two girls begin to settle into a tentative comfort with each other. Luvia loses some of her earlier timidity around Io, and Io finds herself growing more at ease in Luvia’s company.

They head to the cafeteria for a quiet dinner, where Luvia patiently explains a few essentials to Io: the rules, the routine, and what’s expected of them tomorrow. Though Io listens closely, the information feels both simple and strange, yet she commits it to memory, nodding along.

When they finally return to their shared room, both girls are worn out. With everything sorted for the next day, they slip into bed, bidding each other a soft goodnight.

Late that night, Io is jolted awake by a strange smell drifting through the air, one that stirs a deep hunger within her. Her stomach growls, sharp and hollow. She had tried eating as much as possible at dinner, but the food didn’t seem to satisfy her at all.

It’s no use, she thinks. I can only ease this hunger by devouring… them—those anomalies.

The smell is stronger near the door. Quietly, she rises and reaches for the handle, ready to investigate, but stops as a soft muttering catches her attention. She turns to find Luvia tossing in her bed, her face pale and sweating as she mumbles feverishly in her sleep.

“Everywhere… they’re everywhere… yellow… yellow…” Luvia’s words spill out in a fearful whisper, her expression haunted by whatever nightmare she’s trapped in.

Io’s hunger fades as she watches, a mix of curiosity and unease stirring in her. She releases the door handle, realizing it might not be wise to sneak off on her first night here. Instead, it’s better to gather more information before taking any risks.

With a sigh, she returns to her bed, glancing one last time at Luvia’s troubled face before lying down.

---

Current ??? laboratory status

Researchers: 372/372

Staff: 431/431

Children: 1476/1479 - 3 missing or unaccounted for.

Anomaly: 1 + ??? - An identified anomaly with unknown additional factors.

Death count: 3 - Three recorded deaths.