ON THE ASHES

A vast, empty, and bright plain stretched as far as the eye could see. The horizon rose gently with hills of varying sizes. The wind blew through the hills, gently bending the long grass and scattering dust in the air. The small shadows between the hills had turned into areas where animals were cooling off. At first glance, it was a pastoral, even peaceful scene. But beneath the surface lay a much darker reality. Hidden beneath the ground were structures. Their surfaces were covered in slightly shiny concrete that resembled purple stones. There were dozens, perhaps hundreds of them. They were all close together, so close that it was almost impossible to breathe. Between them were corridors so narrow that only two people could walk side by side. Above these structures, observation rooms surrounded by glass walls rose up. Behind the glass, scientists in white coats were laughing and sharing something, looking down at the images below and joking among themselves. But beyond the glass, there was another reality. Rooms of different sizes and shapes. Some only allowed forward and backward teleportation. Some were so narrow that there was no room to even move. Some rooms held two people, some three. In others... a scene of savagery where those who had gone mad over time began attacking each other. Some had their arms and legs bound; experiments were being conducted on them while they were fully conscious. And then... a deafening siren sounded. It echoed through the air like a metallic scream. A wave of panic spread instantly. The scientists behind the glass quickly retreated. Other personnel around the purple structures scattered into special compartments. The corridors were like an ant hill; chaotic yet terrifyingly organized as they emptied out. Two men were walking against the crowd. One was younger, his face filled with worry. "How far do we need to go? What if... what if it catches us?" The older man beside him answered without looking away: "Nullum is here. It won't affect us. But it's best to stay away just to be sure." The siren suddenly stopped. A brief silence followed. Then four men quickly headed toward a Nullum room. One of them was pushing a wheelbarrow. The sterile garments they wore rustled with every movement. Their breath was heavy, their steps measured. They stopped in front of the panel. A card was swiped. The door opened slowly. The smell emanating from inside was indescribable at first. As the dim light pierced the darkness, the pieces on the floor became visible: scattered flesh, blood-stained walls, and limbs whose origins were unclear. One of them brought his hand to his mouth and stepped back. The other bowed his head but continued to look. Slowly, carefully, they gathered the pieces. Each one was placed on a wheelbarrow. Then the pieces were taken to another room. That room... was a place of silence and oblivion. An unused, cold space. The vacuum-sealed door opened slightly. The pieces were thrown inside one by one. The partition closed. A button was pressed silently. Suddenly, a bright flame appeared inside. Everything began to burn. No sound was heard. The indicator light outside turned red. By eight o'clock, everyone had left the area. The power was completely cut off. Security measures kicked in. The lights on the windows went out. The entire system was shut down. Except for one thing: the air system that allowed the Edenites to breathe. A door opened in the darkness. Footsteps echoed. Someone with a flashlight was coming down the stairs. Their face was hidden in the shadows. He slowly descended the stairs. When he reached the door, he stopped. He took out his card. The door, covered in Nullum, opened silently. He entered. As he walked down the corridor, the light from the lantern clashed with the red light seeping from the rooms. Dimness, silence, and heavy footsteps. He stopped in front of a room. He opened the door. The room was large enough to accommodate at least ten people. But there was only one person there. Leaning against the wall, his eyes half-closed. It was Kisaragi. He smiled. "You finally came, my friend," he said. The person who had entered sat down silently across from him. The door closed behind them. The yellow light from the lantern reflected off his gray hair. ⸻We see a scene from the past. A dining hall. Everything is white. The walls, the floor, the ceiling. A sterile, lifeless white. Even the light reflects coldly. The tables are metal, the chairs are soft. Five men, all wearing the same uniform. "Working so hard for this salary... DISGUSTING." "AT LEAST OUR FOOD IS GOOD, RIGHT?" They take bites of their sandwiches. One of their eyes wanders: next to them, a lone man. He doesn't lift his head. He writes something in the small notebook in his hand. *August 6, 2025. My tolerance for the people here is rapidly decreasing. I wish they were all down there.*Amid whispers, the man stands up. He puts the notebook in his pocket. He walks slowly. The corridor... white again. Silent. Footsteps echo. He reaches an office. The door opens. A single desk. A nameplate on the desk: **Koichi Taomoka**. He sits down. He takes out his notebook. A new sentence: *I hate white.* After putting the notebook back, he takes out his laptop. He inserts the flash drive. Four numbers on the keyboard: **1… 2… 3… 4…** The flash drive contains numerous videos and photos, all filled with memories of his family. He opens a video. The date in the top left corner: *December 27, 2023.* He is celebrating his wife's birthday with his family. Suddenly, his six-year-old daughter... with orange-tinged hair and freckles on her face. She makes funny faces at the camera. Next to her, in the crib, a silent baby. Koichi's smile is short-lived. He turns off the computer and looks at the clock. It's 9:00 p.m. He gets up. For no apparent reason, he leaves his room, walks through the cluttered rooms, and heads toward the camera room. The room is as big as an ordinary house. There are dozens of televisions everywhere, each showing a single room. Despite the lights being off, Koichi is completely illuminated by the light from the screens. His gaze falls on one of them, a man sniffing his wrist. He is holding his stomach. He is breathing irregularly, trying to make sense of his surroundings. He has never been in such darkness before. Koichi's gaze then moves to another camera. A little girl around eight years old. She has orange, braided hair. She is curled up with her knees pulled up to her stomach. She is trembling. Her eyes are wide. She is looking around with a frightened expression. Koichi leans back in his chair. He stares at the screen for a long time. He looks at the screen with confusion and sadness, unable to understand why the little girl is there.