Deborah's POV
I never expected Matthew to recover so quickly, just overnight.
Though his werewolf powers were sealed, it seemed he still retained some of the remarkable traits of his kind.
The next day, we both took a day off and, as promised, made our way to Tirnanog.
Tirnanog was even more unsettling than I had imagined.
The exterior walls of the buildings were all white, sleek, and elegant, giving the impression of purity.
From the outside, it seemed like a sanctuary within the underground city.
But as we stepped inside, the stark whiteness continued—walls, floors, ceilings, every piece of furniture, every tool, everything was white.
Even the elderly women who walked past us, dressed in identical white gowns with their hair loose, looked eerily alike.
Their expressions were unnervingly calm, as if their entire lives had been scripted, devoid of any personal emotions or desires.
This place was designed to be beautiful and simple, but it felt suffocating.
Living in such a long-term environment would strip away one's emotions, compressing the mind into a tight, white box.
The outward peace masked deep layers of submission, endurance, and resignation to fate.
To me, this was a cold, inhumane design, deceptively presented as protection and hope.
Matthew explained that in Tirnanog, men and women were strictly separated.
Women operated on the third floor, while men were confined to the second.
The first floor was reserved for "staff"—women who were unable to have children.
As for the women still capable of reproduction, they were forced to stay on the third floor to fulfill their duty of bearing children.
Due to the radiation the people of Murias had suffered on Earth, even with countless artificial inseminations, very few children survived to full health.
Because of this, women had almost no break between pregnancies.
They were given only a week between births before they were expected to start the process again.
For these women, it was a endless cycle of suffering.
The only way out was to pass the public service exams and become a scientist—using your intellect as the ticket to freedom.
Ordinary men were expelled from Tirnanog at the age of fifteen, forced to find work in Murias.
Those who couldn't find jobs ended up in the Falshi quarries, where radiation exposure often shortened their lives.
As for the "slave bloodline" werewolves, they were sent away at the age of twelve, their large, strong bodies put to work in the mines.
Newborn boys were immediately sent to the second floor, while girls were kept isolated on the fourth floor until they turned eighteen, at which point they were sent to the third floor to become breeding machines.
They had no contact with the outside world and never knew their biological parents.
Even if their mothers lived just one floor below, they would never meet.
Since Matthew and I had left Tirnanog, we were no longer allowed upstairs.
We wandered through the first floor and passed by a wall with "the Human Manifesto" carved into it:
"In the twilight of the apocalypse,
we pen our hopes,
guardians of life,
awaiting the light to break through.
Every beating heart,
nurtures the seed of the future.
Love,
as brilliant as the stars
illuminates our souls.
Unyielding maternal spirit,
the endless power,
we bear the burden,
to protect the light of life.
Through this prolonged night,
we are each other's beacon.
Guiding, watching,
until the dawn breaks anew."
Reading these words sent a chill down my spine.
They were meant to inspire hope and symbolize light, but in the white prison of Tirnanog, they felt more like a twisted declaration of fate.
I had never imagined such a repressive system existed in the underground.
Were these women here by choice, or were they forced into it?
Maybe they had no other options, or perhaps they had been deceived.
Whatever the reason, they were trapped in an endless cycle of reproduction until their bodies gave out.
Deborah once lived here.
What must she have felt, enduring this place before she finally escaped through the public service exams?
I couldn't even begin to imagine the emotional toll it must have taken on her.
As my gaze moved from "the Human Manifesto" to a plaque nearby, I noticed "the Honor Roll of Maternal Heroes".
The name of the list sounded grand and dignified, as though it was meant to celebrate the sacrifices these women made.
Every name gleamed coldly, but the latest addition caught my eye—Maeve Wellspring.
Maeve?
The same Maeve who helped Deborah cast the Necrobind spell to pull me back to life? They were mother and daughter?
In that moment, everything became clear.
Deborah and her mother had always known the truth, and now I finally understood their connection.
I turned away, heading toward the potato cultivation area on the first floor.
Potatoes were the only staple food left in Murias.
As I made my way there, a woman who looked to be in her sixties approached.
She was thin and wiry, dressed in the same white gown as the others, her long white hair flowing freely.
Her head was bowed slightly as she walked toward me.
When she passed, she subtly slipped a small package into my hand without a word, then disappeared without looking back.