Sakuradamae carefully planted miniature pinhole cameras, bugs, and other covert devices throughout the facility. All of them were hidden-style spy tools, embedded in wall cracks, ceilings, furniture—low-power, long-lasting, and perfect for recording and eavesdropping over long periods. Whether it was home security, surveillance, or counterinfidelity ops, they were the go-to gear.
Including the location trackers she'd already placed, she had now deployed almost all of her gadgets.
She let out a sigh. This place is way too big.
The long hours of high-alert movement were starting to wear her down. But as a trained shinobi, she was professionally disciplined—tired or not, her work was always precise.
The main issue was the Chen clan's base itself. It had several signal jammers throughout. She had to dash back and forth repeatedly, looking for suitable spots to place devices. Some high-security areas were especially important but heavily guarded, so she had to install gear just outside.
If the signal couldn't get through, the footage would remain stored locally. Meaning she'd have to sneak back in later to retrieve it…
As a swirling shadow cloaked in her kotodama Meishou (Shadow Reflection), Sakuradamae drifted through the buildings under cover of night. By now, she'd identified several key points of interest.
This industrial park was heavily funded by the Chen group and included advanced tech institutes, medical facilities, bio-research labs, and data centers. The most suspicious in connection to the rumored "death trooper" research was the medical facility beside the diagnostics center.
There, she had uncovered large import manifests.
Most of the paperwork was obfuscated, but one detail stood out: the source of the goods.
There were two major providers—one was a South American cartel, and the other… was a Japanese yakuza group.
Yakuza?
That alone raised every red flag.
As someone from Japan, she knew the dark underworld well. The Hebi Orochi Clan ruled the hidden layers of society there. Alongside them was Mouki-gumi, a gang composed of dangerous mixed-bloods—many of whom were former Hebi Orochi defectors.
Between the two, they practically controlled all mixed-blood affairs in the country. Independent agents like Sakuradamae or Emiya were rare exceptions.
So if the Chen clan was importing goods in secret from these kinds of groups… the end use was practically guaranteed to involve dragon blood research, bloodline-altering drugs, or some form of inhuman experimentation.
She kept flipping through the files and eventually landed on a new name:
"Don Porco."
Weird name. Sakuradamae shrugged. She'd never heard of him. She'd let "Potato Girl" investigate that later.
From what she remembered, the South American underworld had a booming human trafficking scene. Could the Chen clan really be buying large numbers of mixed-blood subjects for experiments? That could explain the death troopers.
Mulling it over, she exited the shady medical facility and returned to the Diagnostics and Testing Center—the same place where Nuonuo had been taken earlier.
This building now appeared to be the sketchiest of all.
Despite having no public-facing research projects, the clan leader had sent his own daughter here under lock and key.
From a distance, Sakuradamae stared at the corridor lined with stark white overhead lights. Nuonuo had vanished into its depths.
The silence was oppressive, suffocating. It was so quiet it hurt. The far end of the hall looked like the open mouth of a predator waiting to bite.
I stuck a tracker on her too, she reminded herself. Whatever happens to the Little Miko, I'll find out soon enough.
Then—
…?
She tilted her head.
Did she just hear… a scream?
Within a confused half-dream state—
That chilling, emotionless voice kept echoing:
"Frigg Unit-03 has refused to respond. Increasing intensity. Commencing Execution Trial #45."
Wave after wave of suffocation enveloped her. Nuonuo was spiraling—drowning in darkness, pain, fear.
Suddenly, chains clinked loudly beside her. A wave of freezing cold jolted her back to consciousness.
Her eyes flew open.
She was in total darkness, her limbs bound to a solid metal rack. Heavy chains coiled tightly around her. Just like in her dream.
The good news? That had just been a dream.
The bad news? Now it was real.
Nuonuo's pale face tilted upward—just in time for a blinding surgical light to hit her eyes.
That same cold mechanical voice issued an unfeeling command:
"Frigg Unit-03, begin your testimony. Clearly state the 'bloodline memory' accessed through your spiritual vision. Rhetorical questions, metaphors, and implications are strictly forbidden."
Huh? Nuonuo's mind spun. Bloodline memory? What vision?!
Wait—
Were they talking about the scripted vision Sakuradamae had given her to repeat?
"Be advised," the voice continued. "According to test data from the previous unit, Frigg-02, execution intervals have been extended. You now have ten minutes for recollection."
The voice fell silent. The surgical light dimmed.
She trembled as she looked around. Her surroundings matched the dream: thick, gleaming alloy walls… and—
The source of her rising dread.
Two other execution racks.
Their chains dangled with matted red hairs, dry and stiff like blood-drenched strands left out to rot.
She turned her head slightly to peer downward—barely managing to see what lay beneath one rack.
A coffin-like container. Dark brown. Inside, floating in colorless fluid, was—
A lifeless red-haired corpse.
Nuonuo went pale. Her body reacted before her mind could catch up. Her psychic profiling ability activated involuntarily.
Cloning. Formalin. Dozens of torture sessions.
The knowledge surged into her mind.
There was no doubt.
That body was her—another Frigg experiment subject.
She wasn't the original. She wasn't Chen Motou. She was just a clone. A replication of Frigg Unit-00.
Her memories? Her past? Fabricated.
The mother she missed? The family she hated?
All of it belonged to the original.
She had nothing of her own. Her body, her soul—everything was someone else's shadow. A false shell.
The "Little Miko"? The "Chen heiress"?
All just elegant lies.
With the spotlight still off, a moment of crushing silence passed.
Then, with a snap, the white light returned.
Beep.
The chains tightened sharply, pulling her back into agony.
"Frigg Unit-03, time has expired. You failed to deliver a valid testimony. Intensity increased. Commencing Execution Trial #46."
"AAAHHHHHHHHH—!"
(End of Chapter)
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