In the past, her fingertips only touched cold pull-rings and warm blood. This peaceful, almost boring warmth was so beautiful that she often woke up in the middle of the night, terrified that she would open her eyes to find herself back in that containment room smelling only of disinfectant.
She was too attached to this "country mouse's life."
So attached... that she didn't even dare to touch it too hard, fearing that with one bit of force... this beautiful dream would shatter like a bubble.
Sumire found it a bit funny and ruffled that purple hair. "What silly things are you saying... of course it's real."
Reze nuzzled against her palm, her lips curling into a satisfied yet fragile arc.
Only... that night, in the bedroom.
Sumire was sleeping hazily when she suddenly felt the blankets beside her trembling violently.
Reze, lying beside her pillow, had her eyes tightly shut, sweat constantly breaking out on her forehead—
Before her eyes was a World without color.
Only a suffocating black and a sickly green like moldy moss.
In this deathly silent palette, some mottled and broken shadows of the past began to flicker frantically.
It was the scene deep in her memory that she was most unwilling to touch—the bone-chillingly cold white laboratory.
Countless figures with blurred faces, wearing heavy military coats, surrounded the operating table.
They looked down at her, holding cold clipboards, talking in low voices in Russian.
"subject's heart rate is normal."
"Prepare for the next live experiment."
Their cold gazes were like examining a weapon fresh out of the factory, rather than a girl.
The pungent smell of disinfectant mixed with blood submerged her, but the scent vanished in an instant, and all the officers suddenly disappeared.
There was no sound around her until those hair-raising footsteps rang out.
Tap, tap, tap.
It was the sound of leather shoes stepping on a marble floor.
Every step felt like it was treading on Reze's heart.
Reze wanted to turn back, wanted to pull the ring on her neck, even wanted to scream out loud.
But she couldn't move.
Her body didn't feel like her own; her limbs felt as if they were entangled by countless invisible chains.
"Little mouse... did you really think you could make a clean break from the past by escaping here?"
The voice was very gentle.
So gentle it made one's scalp tingle.
In the depths of that distorted darkness, a figure emerged—white shirt, black trousers, hands behind her back, and those eyes with concentric circles glowing with a golden light in the dark.
Makima.
Bang!
She just stood there quietly, with that smile that seemed to see through everything and control everything.
Immediately after, she raised her hand, her index finger extended, pointing steadily at the center of Reze's forehead.
Reze was stiff all over; the fear etched into her bones left her unable to move, only able to watch that finger helplessly—
Like a countdown to death.
However.
Just as Reze was preparing to meet death.
Makima's pupils constricted slightly, as if she had discovered something more interesting, and her finger suddenly moved.
That slender finger traced a small arc in the air, shifting to Reze's side.
Reze's pupils shook violently, and she instinctively looked out of the corner of her eye.
In the previously empty darkness, a figure had appeared at some point.
Sumire.
She was wearing her gray loungewear pajamas, holding half a bag of potato chips, standing there with a dazed expression.
"Eh...?" Sumire hadn't even realized what was happening yet.
The smile at the corners of Makima's mouth deepened.
Her red lips parted slightly, and the silent mouth movements exploded in the darkness:
"Bang."
Puchi.
Sumire's chest instantly exploded, blood splattered, and the warm liquid splashed onto Reze's stiff cheeks.
Her body, like a puppet with its strings cut, fell backward powerlessly.
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