Chapter 2: A Taste of Freedom

I awoke back in my room, dressed in a thick cloth dress, the kind that concealed scars well.

Rather than complain, I walked to the desk, pulled out a notebook from a drawer, flipped to a random page, and wrote down “gas.”

I returned the notebook to the drawer and surveyed the room. Someone had tidied up, but yellow residue still clung to surfaces.

The acrid smell made my chest tighten.

A tingling sensation led me to touch my abdomen. There was a hole, large enough to fit three fingers, though it was slowly closing.

The drugs must still be working, as I felt no pain. That wasn’t so bad.

If only these walls weren’t here, I would be happy.

I punched the wall. The surface yielded softly.

The senseless softness stirred a strange mix of defiance, jealousy, and misery within me, all directed at the protagonist.

If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t be so miserable. Yoo Ha-rin, the original me, wouldn’t have suffered this fate.

Voicing these thoughts felt like it would tear my lips apart.

This whole “being in a novel” thing didn’t add up.

How could this world possibly be a novel? Every person had their own personality, their own story. And the protagonist was nowhere to be seen.

My parents wasting away and dying, our home and money seized by local gangsters, me left alone and desperate… all because I was reading a fantasy novel? It made no sense.

This wasn’t a novel.

Then what was I?

The ramblings of a discarded girl, driven mad by experimentation?

But I had my own memories. Not Yoo Ha-rin’s, but mine.

I didn’t hate this small room; it felt cozy.

I didn’t feel longing or affection for my childhood friend, only a faint hatred and a desire for her to show her face so she could get me out of here.

What would become of me?

I would die. That’s all I remembered happening.

A briefly mentioned childhood friend dying wouldn’t shock any readers. They would simply think, “That’s enough to make the protagonist angry,” and move on.

I was that worthless. Even more so now, trapped in this lab with no one to rescue me.

The protagonist, who others would risk their lives for at the slightest touch, had forgotten me, left me here like trash for half a year.

Someone was desperate to be like her, even willing to crawl into this place.

How insignificant must I be for her to forget me so easily?

Whenever I thought like this, my reflection would blur. I couldn’t see myself, the girl with white hair and red eyes, in the mirror. Just a hazy image.

Perhaps the mirror reflected who I was now, someone who preferred instant coffee capsules to milkshakes shared with a childhood friend.

If I had to be thrown into this world, I wished I had been given something. Some advantage. But of course not. If I had, it would have been obvious from the start.

The power to incinerate this building, the ability to rewind time, or perhaps some incredible ability fueled by unwavering self-confidence.

I wanted coffee. Not just espresso, but something like a Dolce Latte or an Einspänner. Or maybe a piano in my room.

I wanted to experience joy through music, not through drug-induced euphoria.

This wasn’t rage, not really. Just a childish complaint. But I was angry. At whom, I didn’t know.

As I rolled on the floor, clutching my throbbing head, the drugs intensified, melting away the pain and bringing on a pleasant drowsiness.

Drooling, face pressed against the floor… it wasn’t so bad. I didn’t have to think.

A voice shattered the quiet.

Two guards strolled down the hallway, chuckling over their cheap instant coffee. One face was unfamiliar. A newbie.

“Excuse me.”

“Ignore her and keep walking.”

The familiar guard, his face tense, tried to hurry past.

“Excuse me, mister. Could you bring me a cup of coffee?”

The newbie reacted. I barely suppressed a smile.

“She’s just a kid. A drink wouldn’t hurt…”

“Just shut up and don’t even look at her. We’re not supposed to interact with the test subjects.”

How frantic he was. I was quite frantic myself.

“It’s okay, you can just give me what you’re drinking. I’m always stuck in this room, and I just want to chat with someone.”

The newbie, holding the coffee, looked at me. Our eyes met, and he nodded, a dazed expression on his face.

“Newbie, whatever you hear, just… oh,!”

The small hatch, used for delivering special meals, opened. It seemed to lack a locking mechanism.

I wasn’t just tortured here. This wasn’t some barbaric human experimentation facility.

This was a research lab, dedicated to creating artificial ability users.

They took in unsuspecting orphans, had them sign contracts they didn’t understand, and used them as lab rats. A
place, but a legitimate research institution nonetheless.

And I was a successful experiment.

I might have been self-deprecating and impulsive, but those were minor side effects. I had awakened an ability.

I was a valuable specimen, not easily disposed of, even if I killed a few guards or newbie researchers. I possessed the power to eliminate multiple ordinary humans in an instant.

I dug my fingers into the bleeding wound on my abdomen, widening it. Blood gushed out, spurting through the small hatch.

It shot out, a crimson spear, piercing the newbie’s head. He hung limply, suspended by the thread of blood. A comical sight, perhaps.

The familiar guard, instead of screaming or drawing his weapon, fumbled with his radio, yelling about sealing off Sector A.

I blasted his radio to pieces with another jet of blood, but the message had likely been sent.

Meanwhile, the newbie, still twitching, fumbled for his keycard and swiped it against the door lock.

As the door opened with a mechanical whir, I stretched and stepped out.

The guard continued to yell into his broken radio, reporting a test subject escaping.

He stared at the mangled device, then at me. He calmly drew his pistol, aimed, and fired.

The bullet grazed my skin. A scratch. A meaningless gesture.

Cursing, he threw the gun at my face.

That hurt more than the bullet. I could absorb the impact of fast-moving objects, but slow-moving projectiles or sharp objects seemed to bypass my defenses.

“Why are you protecting this monster…!”

“You know why they keep me alive. So, what kind of punishment will it be this time? I’ll try to escape, but I’ll probably be caught.”

“! You’re just a lab rat…”

“Hmm.”

I couldn’t understand such harsh words. So, after dealing with the newbie, I decided to test something. I prodded the familiar guard’s head with a blood spear, searching for something beyond his emotions.

Disappointing.

He didn’t die instantly. He twitched and stumbled, like an ant controlled by a parasite. He would soon explode, just like the newbie.

The sensation in my fingertips, the thrill of using my ability, was exhilarating. Perhaps this was the only upside to this change.

With a pop, the guard exploded.

I surveyed my surroundings. A long, red hallway, bathed in the harsh fluorescent light. My body, pristine against the grim backdrop.

And the distant wail of sirens.

I was just expressing my frustration. I was under the influence of drugs; a mitigating circumstance.

They would be lenient.

Probably.