I struggled to sit up in bed.
The sounds from outside were beginning to grate on my ears—sharp, unfamiliar noise that stung like static.
I rubbed my eyes and took a deep breath.
What had I seen in my dream to leave me in such a state?
There was a muffled sensation inside me—like I had forgotten something important.
The only thing I remembered clearly was that I had been running away from somewhere.
But from where?
And why?
The answers were still shrouded in fog.
And one more thing…
**Am I a monster?**
I'd heard that sentence somewhere—I was sure of it.
Maybe someone had even said it to me.
But one thing I knew for certain:
I wasn't human.
Because the last image I remembered before everything went black—the one that refused to leave me—was my own severed arm lying beside me.
And now… it was perfectly intact.
**How?**
How was that even possible?
As I sat silently at the edge of the bed, lost in that chaos, the door slammed open.
Three people entered.
I didn't recognize them.
Or… maybe I did.
It was hard to say when I remembered nothing at all.
Two of them were tall, solidly built men.
The third was older, shorter, with snow-white hair.
But what struck me most… was the way they were looking at me.
As they began walking toward me, an instinctive panic surged through my body.
I tried to throw myself off the side of the bed, but my body felt buried in exhaustion—my knees resisted, and gravity felt impossibly heavy.
I collapsed onto the floor.
Trying to push myself up with the edge of the bed, I realized my legs no longer wanted to carry me.
The white-haired man stepped closer, and for reasons I couldn't explain, waves of dread began spreading through my chest.
I lifted my head.
His face was full of wrinkles, but…
In a blink, everything changed.
---
> "Look, 07, if you don't give them enough water, they'll dry up before they can even stand."
I couldn't see his face, but I knew that voice.
Why was I seeing this now?
> "Then I'll just give them *all* the water."
> Makes sense, right?
**Whack!**
> "Ouch! My head! Why'd you hit me? Did I say something wrong?"
> "Foolish child…"
> The old man sighed.
> "If you give them all the water, do you know what happens?"
> "They become super strong?"
He shook his head slowly.
> "No. They die. They rot away."
> "Why are you telling me all this? Rigel's waiting for me."
His eyes turned dull—he wasn't looking at me anymore, but somewhere deep inside me.
> "Because you're just like those flowers... pitiful flowers of \*\*\*\*\*\*."
**Flowers of what?**
I was slipping back into a memory, but nothing came clearly.
> "07… did you say Rigel? Don't address each other that way. If \*\*\*\*\* or the others hear, there'll be trouble."
> He bent down and picked a small flower from the soil.
> "Want to give this to 02? If she's there. Girls tend to like these kinds of things."
He held the flower out to me.
> "I mean… old man. Let her come get it herself. And why would she even like something like that? You're weird, I don't get you. Now if you'll excuse me, we have a test in an hour."
Unfazed, the old man gently placed the flower to the side.
> "See you around, 07. Good luck on the test."
> "I don't need luck."
> "Yes… maybe all you need is love. Isn't that right?"
> "Senile."
> "Yes… I suppose I really am. Hahaha..."
---
The fog lifted, slowly.
I returned to reality.
But that wasn't just a memory.
It felt like I had been right there inside it—breathing it in.
The old man's hand rested on my shoulder. His eyes searched my face with concern as his lips moved.
> "Are you alright, kid?"
Was he really asking me that?
Why would he care?
> "Take your hand off me," I snapped, pushing his arm off my shoulder—but it didn't budge.
> He was stronger than I expected.
> "Hey, are you deaf? I said TAKE your hand off me! Where the hell am I?!"
He didn't seem to understand a thing.
Are all old men this slow?
As I cursed silently, the old man from my memory flashed into my mind.
He was the only one I could remember clearly-yeah...maybe not that clear-
And I was sure—if *they* hadn't found me yet, they would soon.
They always did.
I shoved him hard with my other hand.
He stumbled and fell backward.
I forced myself to stand—
And froze at what I saw.
The two men who had entered with him had strange devices aimed straight at me.
I was certain I'd never seen anything like them before.
I couldn't recall their details or their faces, but…
Not *everything* from before yesterday was gone.
The old man quickly stood and raised a hand to lower the weapons.
> "Easy now," he said, catching his breath.
> "It's completely normal for him to be confused. Do you remember the state he was in when we found him?
> And remember—no harm comes to him without *His* permission.
> He made it clear he wanted to speak to the boy personally once he woke up."
**Harm?**
Are they talking about killing me?
Perfect.
The worst possible outcome.
But…
I'm not going to die that easily.
> "Old man. You still haven't answered me. Why am I here?
> And who *are* you people?"
He stared at me for a long moment, then sighed and spoke:
> "I'm Cirrus. Head instructor of this camp.
> As for why you're here… well, that's exactly what *He's* been wanting to know.
What's your name?
How did you end up all the way out here?
This place is a long way from the Aldeboron borders, kid."
**Aldeboron?**
What the hell is he talking about?
Aldeboron…
Who am I?
Who are *they*?
Seems like everyone in this room is missing something—
And some are hiding too much.
> "Your name. Do you hear me?"
My name?
You…
My head… it's pounding.
---
> "Spica… That's my name from now on, okay?"
> "Huh? You're 02. 02 means 02.
> Though… I guess Spica sounds kinda cool."
> "Of course it does. A name and a number aren't the same.
> Don't *you* want a name too?"
> "The Professor calls me 07. Isn't that enough?
> Besides, what if they get mad…
> My scores are already low. I don't want to make things worse."
> "Hmm… then look, we can use our names just while we play, okay?"
> "Do we even have time to play? There's already a ton of tasks…"
> "Of course we do! We're kids, aren't we?
> Kids play."
Then… another voice joined in.
> "What's all this now, 02? Talking about playing games?
> Where is this nonsense coming from?"
> "Sorry, Miss \*\*\*\*\*\*. I just… read about it in the book they gave us," said 02's voice.
> "Ugh… *that* book again? I still don't understand what that man was thinking.
> A bunch of wannabe-human monsters…"
---
**I AM NOT A MONSTER, YOU WITCH!**
No…
No one had called me a monster.
I had just screamed into the middle of the room—
Like a lunatic.
Out of nowhere.
And now…
Everyone who had just calmed down was back on edge.
Hands crept toward their weapons.
A moment ago, "harm" had been just a word.
Now, it felt real.
But—
Cirrus. The old man.
He was still smiling.
> "Of course you're not a monster," he said softly.
> "If I did something to upset you… I apologize.
> Perhaps I should have given you more time to rest.
> But…"
He didn't look away as he continued:
> "*He* doesn't like to be kept waiting.
> Still, I'll explain the situation.
> Even if you can't remember your name… that's alright."
He gently placed his hand on my head.
> "You don't need to be afraid," he said.
---
> "...Are you scared? If we stay here, we'll be caught."
---
What's happening to me?
It feels like…
Like there's only one reason I didn't die.
And I'm too weak to remember it.
Cirrus withdrew his hand and gave a signal to the others.
All three headed for the door.
**Say it.
Say something.
Just say it.**
> "My name is Sirius… and…
> Sorry for what just happened."
I had apologized to an old man.
But… something inside me *needed* to say it.
And more than that—Sirius.
That name had echoed through my fading memories.
Either I truly was him…
Or I was just another madman.
Cirrus stopped, turned, and walked back toward me.
He extended his hand.
Did he want me to shake it?
---
> "07, I don't want you touching me—or anyone else—without permission again."
> "I don't have time for hugs—you can *see* that, can't you?
> You're affecting the others too.
> Really… disgusting.
> And yet… I pity you.
> It's all just so tragic..."
---
> "You… want me to shake your hand?"
> "Yes, yes, exactly. Think of it as a formality—an introduction."
I just wanted this absurdity to be over.
I gripped his hand quickly.
> "Pleasure to meet you, kid.
> We'll probably be back in an hour.
> Don't knock me over next time, eh? Hahah."
> "O-of course… I won't…"
He let go and left the room with the other two men.
**Cirrus…
Is he really a good person?
And who is this "He" they keep talking about?**
**Escape.**
That was the clearest word in my mind right now.
The most vivid thing I could recall.
And it could only mean one thing—
**Survival.**
> "Why did I run away…? From what I remember, I had friends there.
> I wonder… is there anyone out there who cares where I am?"
The moment I asked that question, a strange discomfort stirred inside me.
As if… even asking that wasn't really *mine* to ask.
Someone like me… why would I care about something like that?
> "What does it matter anyway?
> It's not like there's even a 'me' left to care."