I struggled to sit up in bed.
The sounds from outside were beginning to grate on my ears—sharp, unfamiliar noise that stung like static.
I rubbed my eyes and took a deep breath.
What had I seen in my dream to leave me in such a state?
There was a muffled sensation inside me—like I had forgotten something important.
The only thing I remembered clearly was that I had been running away from somewhere.
But from where?
And why?
The answers were still shrouded in fog.
And one more thing…
**Am I a monster?**
I'd heard that sentence somewhere—I was sure of it.
Maybe someone had even said it to me.
But one thing I knew for certain:
I wasn't human.
Because the last image I remembered before everything went black—the one that refused to leave me—was my own severed arm lying beside me.
And now… it was perfectly intact.
**How?**
How was that even possible?
As I sat silently at the edge of the bed, lost in that chaos, the door slammed open.
Three people entered.
I didn't recognize them.
Or… maybe I did.
It was hard to say when I remembered nothing at all.
Two of them were tall, solidly built men.
The third was older, shorter, with snow-white hair.
But what struck me most… was the way they were looking at me.
As they began walking toward me, an instinctive panic surged through my body.
I tried to throw myself off the side of the bed, but my body felt buried in exhaustion—my knees resisted, and gravity felt impossibly heavy.
I collapsed onto the floor.
Trying to push myself up with the edge of the bed, I realized my legs no longer wanted to carry me.
The white-haired man stepped closer, and for reasons I couldn't explain, waves of dread began spreading through my chest.
I lifted my head.
His face was full of wrinkles, but…
In a blink, everything changed.
---
"Look, 07, if you don't give them enough water, they'll dry up before they can even stand."
I couldn't see his face, but I knew that voice.
Why was I seeing this now?
"Then I'll just give them *all* the water."
Makes sense, right?
**Whack!**
"Ouch! My head! Why'd you hit me? Did I say something wrong?"
"Foolish child…"
The old man sighed.
"If you give them all the water, do you know what happens?"
"They become super strong?"
He shook his head slowly.
"No. They die. They rot away."
"Why are you telling me all this? Rigel's waiting for me."
His eyes turned dull—he wasn't looking at me anymore, but somewhere deep inside me.
"Because you're just like those flowers... pitiful flowers of \*\*\*\*\*\*."
**Flowers of what?**
I was slipping back into a memory, but nothing came clearly.
"07… did you say Rigel? Don't address each other that way. If \*\*\*\*\* or the others hear, there'll be trouble."
He bent down and picked a small flower from the soil.
"Want to give this to 02? If she's there. Girls tend to like these kinds of things."
He held the flower out to me.
"I mean… old man. Let her come get it herself. And why would she even like something like that? You're weird, I don't get you. Now if you'll excuse me, we have a test in an hour."
Unfazed, the old man gently placed the flower to the side.
"See you around, 07. Good luck on the test."
"I don't need luck."
"Yes… maybe all you need is love. Isn't that right?"
"Senile."
"Yes… I suppose I really am. Hahaha..."
---
The fog lifted, slowly.
I returned to reality.
But that wasn't just a memory.
It felt like I had been right there inside it—breathing it in.
The old man's hand rested on my shoulder. His eyes searched my face with concern as his lips moved.
"Are you alright, kid?"
Was he really asking me that?
Why would he care?
"Take your hand off me," I snapped, pushing his arm off my shoulder—but it didn't budge.
He was stronger than I expected.
"Hey, are you deaf? I said TAKE your hand off me! Where the hell am I?!"
He didn't seem to understand a thing.
Are all old men this slow?
As I cursed silently, the old man from my memory flashed into my mind.
He was the only one I could remember clearly-yeah...maybe not that clear-
And I was sure—if *they* hadn't found me yet, they would soon.
They always did.
I shoved him hard with my other hand.
He stumbled and fell backward.
I forced myself to stand—
And froze at what I saw.
The two men who had entered with him had strange devices aimed straight at me.
I was certain I'd never seen anything like them before.
I couldn't recall their details or their faces, but…
Not *everything* from before yesterday was gone.
The old man quickly stood and raised a hand to lower the weapons.
"Easy now," he said, catching his breath.
"It's completely normal for him to be confused. Do you remember the state he was in when we found him?
And remember—no harm comes to him without *His* permission.
He made it clear he wanted to speak to the boy personally once he woke up."
**Harm?**
Are they talking about killing me?
Perfect.
The worst possible outcome.
But…
I'm not going to die that easily.
"Old man. You still haven't answered me. Why am I here?
And who *are* you people?"
He stared at me for a long moment, then sighed and spoke:
"I'm Cirrus. Head instructor of this camp.
As for why you're here… well, that's exactly what *He's* been wanting to know.
What's your name?
How did you end up all the way out here?
This place is a long way from the Aldeboron borders, kid."
**Aldeboron?**
What the hell is he talking about?
Aldeboron…
Who am I?
Who are *they*?
Seems like everyone in this room is missing something—
And some are hiding too much.
"Your name. Do you hear me?"
My name?
You…
My head… it's pounding.
---
"Spica… That's my name from now on, okay?"
"Huh? You're 02. 02 means 02.
Though… I guess Spica sounds kinda cool."
"Of course it does. A name and a number aren't the same.
Don't *you* want a name too?"
"The Professor calls me 07. Isn't that enough?
Besides, what if they get mad…
My scores are already low. I don't want to make things worse."
"Hmm… then look, we can use our names just while we play, okay?"
"Do we even have time to play? There's already a ton of tasks…"
"Of course we do! We're kids, aren't we?
Kids play."
Then… another voice joined in.
"What's all this now, 02? Talking about playing games?
Where is this nonsense coming from?"
"Sorry, Miss \*\*\*\*\*\*. I just… read about it in the book they gave us," said 02's voice.
"Ugh… *that* book again? I still don't understand what that man was thinking.
A bunch of wannabe-human monsters…"
---
**I AM NOT A MONSTER, YOU WITCH!**
No…
No one had called me a monster.
I had just screamed into the middle of the room—
Like a lunatic.
Out of nowhere.
And now…
Everyone who had just calmed down was back on edge.
Hands crept toward their weapons.
A moment ago, "harm" had been just a word.
Now, it felt real.
But—
Cirrus. The old man.
He was still smiling.
"Of course you're not a monster," he said softly.
"If I did something to upset you… I apologize.
Perhaps I should have given you more time to rest.
But…"
He didn't look away as he continued:
"*He* doesn't like to be kept waiting.
Still, I'll explain the situation.
Even if you can't remember your name… that's alright."
He gently placed his hand on my head.
"You don't need to be afraid," he said.
---
"...Are you scared? If we stay here, we'll be caught."
---
What's happening to me?
It feels like…
Like there's only one reason I didn't die.
And I'm too weak to remember it.
Cirrus withdrew his hand and gave a signal to the others.
All three headed for the door.
**Say it.
Say something.
Just say it.**
"My name is Sirius… and…
Sorry for what just happened."
I had apologized to an old man.
But… something inside me *needed* to say it.
And more than that—Sirius.
That name had echoed through my fading memories.
Either I truly was him…
Or I was just another madman.
Cirrus stopped, turned, and walked back toward me.
He extended his hand.
Did he want me to shake it?
---
"07, I don't want you touching me—or anyone else—without permission again."
"I don't have time for hugs—you can *see* that, can't you?
You're affecting the others too.
Really… disgusting.
And yet… I pity you.
It's all just so tragic..."
---
"You… want me to shake your hand?"
"Yes, yes, exactly. Think of it as a formality—an introduction."
I just wanted this absurdity to be over.
I gripped his hand quickly.
"Pleasure to meet you, kid.
We'll probably be back in an hour.
Don't knock me over next time, eh? Hahah."
> "O-of course… I won't…"
He let go and left the room with the other two men.
**Cirrus…
Is he really a good person?
And who is this "He" they keep talking about?**
**Escape.**
That was the clearest word in my mind right now.
The most vivid thing I could recall.
And it could only mean one thing—
**Survival.**
> "Why did I run away…? From what I remember, I had friends there.
> I wonder… is there anyone out there who cares where I am?"
The moment I asked that question, a strange discomfort stirred inside me.
As if… even asking that wasn't really *mine* to ask.
Someone like me… why would I care about something like that?
> "What does it matter anyway?
> It's not like there's even a 'me' left to care."