Chapter 9
As we followed the staff member through the stark, white corridors, I kept my head low but my eyes sharp. This was the perfect opportunity to analyze the layout of the facility. Every corner, every hallway, every exit—anything that could give me an edge when the time to escape arrived. And trust me, I was planning to escape. Who in their right mind would want to stay here?
I had a vague idea of what to do, thanks to Isa's escape plan in the game. She had mapped out a route, detailed weak points in the security, and even figured out the guard rotations. It had worked in the game, so surely it could work in real life. Right?
---
The walls around me were pristine and metallic, painted in an almost blinding white. Scientists and staff moved briskly up and down the corridors, some accompanied by injured test subjects. Most of them avoided eye contact, their gazes either downcast or hollow.
I kept my head down too. My black hair, dark eyes, and Eastern features made me stand out among the predominantly Western-looking people here. And then there were the hair colors—vivid blues, fiery reds, and, oh, was that green?
Yes, it was green.
I blinked at the sight of a scientist walking by with a literal ship on her head. Her hair had been styled into an elaborate, gravity-defying masterpiece complete with sails and a mast.
"Is… is that a crow's nest?" I whispered under my breath.
The blonde boy walking beside me snorted. "That's not the weirdest thing you'll see here. Just wait until you meet the guy with the bird coat."
"Bird coat?"
"You'll see."
---
As we continued down the corridor, I noticed that the scientists didn't just look strange—they acted strange too. One was muttering to herself while scribbling furiously on a clipboard, her pen moving so fast it looked like it might catch fire. Another was wearing goggles indoors, adjusting them every few seconds as if she was about to dive into a pool.
I sighed, shaking my head. "No wonder this place is a mess. The people running it are barely holding onto their sanity."
The blonde boy smirked. "You're just jealous because you don't have green hair."
"Yeah, because that's the look I'm going for," I muttered sarcastically.
---
After what felt like an eternity, we arrived at a thick metal door covered in glowing runes and intricate symbols. The staff member leading us didn't say a word as the door slid open with a low hiss.
The room beyond was large and sterile, filled with rows of test subjects dressed just like us. Most of them looked terrified, their wide eyes darting around the unfamiliar space.
It didn't take long for me to notice that all eyes were on us.
"Looks like we're the last ones here," I muttered.
---
Before I could respond, a commanding voice echoed through the room, silencing all murmurs.
"Welcome, new test subjects," the voice boomed. "I am Dr. Graves, and I will be assigning your numbers today. Please form a queue and step forward one at a time to receive your designation. Obey the instructions, and everything will proceed smoothly."
I froze. That name… Dr. Graves. I recognized him immediately from Isa's warnings in the game.
He was a towering figure, well over six feet tall, with sharp features and an aura of authority that made the air feel heavier. His pristine lab coat was spotless, as if mocking the chaos around him and with his split pupils he look no better then a real snake.
---
The queue began forming, and I found myself standing behind the blonde boy.
"Hey," he whispered, leaning closer. "Do you think they'll give us cool numbers?"
"What do you mean by 'cool'?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"You know, something that sounds powerful. Like 007. Or 300."
"This isn't a spy play," I muttered.
The line moved slowly, each test subject stepping forward to have their wrist scanned by a machine. Occasionally, there were murmurs or protests, but they were quickly silenced by the guards stationed around the room.
Finally, it was my turn.
---
I stepped forward, holding out my wrist. The machine beeped and glowed, projecting a string of numbers onto the screen.
"Your designation is 4271," Dr. Graves announced ad he stamped a metal object on my hand.
No. 4271 can be seen on my wrist where the previous tattoo can be seen.
The blonde boy followed after me. His number turned out to be 4272. He looked ridiculously pleased.
"Look at that!" he said, nudging me. "We're consecutive numbers! It's fate."
"It's coincidence," I muttered.
"Or maybe it's destiny."
"Or maybe it's bureaucracy."
---
As we waited for the others to receive their numbers, the room suddenly erupted into chaos.
One of the test subjects near the front of the line began screaming, thrashing wildly as the guards tried to restrain him. He shouted about something about numbers but i didnt quite hear it but a commotion was brewing.
The panic spread like wildfire. More test subjects began shouting, some trying to run, others curling into themselves in fear.
Dr. Graves slammed his hand onto a nearby console, his voice booming over the noise. "Silence! Return to order immediately!"
Suddenly snake shadows come out from where he was standing, furiously slithering to wards the children who were chasing a commotion knocking them down in one breath.
I looked at what's happening with aw. It was real life cg. But even with this commotion panic spread around my face was a ice block. I think I am used to it now.
---
The guards quickly moved to contain the situation, herding us toward the exit.
"Go back to your quarters!" one of them barked.
The blonde boy and I exchanged a glance.
"Well," he said, smirking. "That was eventful."
"Let's just get out of here before things get worse," I muttered.
As we were pushed out of the room, I couldn't help but feel a strange mix of relief and unease as if it is not the end. The chaos had cut the number designation short, but it also left me with more questions than answers.