Chapter 11
Chapter 11
As we left the canteen, Blondie walking beside me seemed to be brimming with energy, even though we had no purpose for the moment. The scientists weren't going to touch us yet, probably because we looked like twigs ready to snap in half. The malnourished and frail state of our bodies was apparently our free pass—at least for now.
"So… what do we do?" Blondie asked, his voice dripping with curiosity.
I shrugged. "Walk around? Breathe? Exist?"
He frowned. "That sounds boring."
"It's either that or volunteer yourself for experiments early. I can recommend it to the staff if you're so eager for excitement."
He paled at the suggestion, shaking his head furiously. "No, no! Walking's fine. Let's walk!"
As we roamed the corridors, we came across a couple of staff members dragging heavy black bags. I didn't think much of it until a nauseating stench hit me like a slap to the face. The smell… it was awful. Rotten, putrid, like something you'd expect to find in a dumpster behind a slaughterhouse.
Blondie's nose wrinkled as he muttered, "What's in those bags? Rotten vegetables?"
I side-eyed him. Rotten vegetables? Really? The realization hit me like a cold wave. That's not food. That's… bodies.
My spine tingled, and for a moment, my stomach twisted into a knot. My head screamed at me to stay calm, but it was a harsh reminder of where we were. This wasn't some lighthearted field trip. This was a lab—a dangerous, horrifying place where survival was anything but guaranteed.
Yet, outwardly, my face remained as stoic as ever. Blank. Neutral. Expressionless. The beauty of having resting face paralysis, I supposed.
Blondie sniffed again, his face scrunched up. "It really smells bad. Maybe it is vegetables."
I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Yeah, sure. Let's go with that."
---
Not long after, a staff member approached us. He seemed slightly annoyed, though that might've just been his default expression.
"You two. Follow me. I'll show you to your assigned room," he said briskly.
Blondie perked up. "Our room? Is it nice? Do we get beds?"
The staff member shot him a look, and I almost felt second-hand embarrassment.
As we followed him down the corridors, the stench from earlier still lingered faintly in my nostrils. My mind raced. I need to prepare to escape. There's no way I'm staying here. If the bags were any indication, my chances of survival weren't high. I needed to unlock those basic attributes from the system and upgrade them fast. Without them, I'd be dead meat—or worse.
---
We eventually arrived at our assigned room. It was surprisingly spacious for what I expected—a single large room with five bunk beds lined up neatly. Each bed had a small number engraved into the metal frame.
"Wow, this place is huge!" Blondie exclaimed, wide-eyed.
Huge wasn't the word I'd use. But then again, for someone from the slums, this probably felt like a mansion.
There was a big cupboard, likely for clothes, and a shelf filled with books. A door led to what I assumed was the toilet. Beside each bed lay a small bundle of toiletries, neatly packaged.
The staff member rattled off instructions. "You'll find your basic supplies on your bed. You won't be subjected to experiments for the first week. During this time, you're expected to improve your physical condition so you don't die immediately. Utilize the time wisely."
Blondie blinked. "Improve our condition? How?"
The staff member ignored him and continued. "You're free to read, use the learning crystals to educate yourselves, or do errands for the scientists. There's also a church in the building for prayers. But remember, prayers are only for Jormungandr."
The mention of the church made me sigh. Great. A forced religion. Just what I needed.
Blondie tilted his head. "Jormungandr? Who's that?"
I deadpanned. "A god. Or a snake. Or a snake god. Take your pick."
His face lit up with curiosity. "Do you think praying to him works?"
"Sure. If you want to pray for a quick death, maybe."
He didn't get the sarcasm, of course. Instead, he hummed thoughtfully, muttering something about checking the church out later.
---
As we explored the room, Blondie glanced at the bunk beds. "Do you think we get to choose our beds?"
"I don't care where I sleep, as long as it's not next to you," I replied, sitting down on the nearest bunk.
"Hey!" he pouted. "I'm not that bad!"
"Your snoring might beg to differ."
He huffed, crossing his arms. "You haven't even heard me snore!"
"Exactly. And I'd like to keep it that way."
Despite the banter, I couldn't help but notice the faint trace of relief in Blondie's demeanor. For someone who grew up in the slums, this was probably the best living condition he'd ever had. Food, shelter, and a bed that wasn't made of dirt or stone—it was a step up.
But that wasn't enough for me. Surviving until 16 just to become a worker here? Not happening.
Still, for now, I'd play along. Play dumb, act weak, and bide my time. Because when the opportunity came, I'd be ready.