(JAPAN 1937)
The dimly lit interrogation room was filled with smoke from a single cigarette resting in an ashtray. Nana sat in silence, her hands clenched into fists on the table. She had been forced into espionage, infiltrating Japanese ranks for the Americans in exchange for the promise of her family's safety—a promise she knew was hollow.
"You're young, but capable," said an officer seated across from her. His voice was low, almost kind, but the weight of his words pressed down on her like a mountain. "This mission will require complete obedience. Fail, and you'll regret it."
Nana didn't flinch. Her face was stoic, but inside, her heart raced. She didn't have a choice.
(JAPAN 1938)
the world was on the cusp of war. In a hidden underground lab, deep beneath an American military facility, the hum of machinery filled the air. Scientists bustled about, their faces tense as they worked tirelessly on a project that wasn't just classified—it was unspeakable.
Dr. Allan Greaves, lead scientist of the Aegis Project, adjusted his spectacles as he scanned the complex diagrams on the board. A file on the table bore the title: "Project: Aegis - Human-Robot Transformation" in bold ink, stamped with the red seal of the U.S. Government.
"This could be the breakthrough we've been waiting for," Greaves muttered, though his tone was uncertain.
A military officer stood nearby, arms crossed. His expression was cold, calculating. "It's not just a breakthrough—it's a necessity. If the rumors about Germany are true, we need this weapon before they strike."
"But this is… inhumane," Greaves said hesitantly. His gaze flicked toward the diagram—a human figure, part flesh, part machine. "The subject won't survive intact."
The officer's tone hardened. "Survival isn't the priority. Victory is."
The Lab, 1938
The sterile room buzzed with electricity. Nana was strapped to a steel chair, her wrists and ankles bound tightly. She struggled against the restraints, her voice hoarse from hours of pleading.
"Please!" she cried, tears streaming down her face. "I did everything you asked! Let me go!"
Dr. Greaves stood to the side, his face a mixture of guilt and resignation. He didn't look at her as the officer gave the command.
"Begin the procedure."
The machines roared to life, their mechanical arms moving with precision. Nana's screams echoed through the lab as the process began. Her body convulsed, her vision blurred, and pain unlike anything she had ever felt tore through her.
Her last thought before losing consciousness was a desperate plea: "Please… let this end."
—-
later,
When Nana woke, the room was dark. Her body felt… wrong. Heavy. Unnatural.
She struggled to sit up, but her limbs wouldn't move the way she expected. The faint glow of a monitor reflected off her skin—except it wasn't her skin. It was metal.
"No," she whispered, her voice cracking. Her hand reached for her reflection in the glass of a monitor screen, trembling as she saw the robotic fingers.
She screamed, but it was cut short by the realization that no one was coming to help.
In the corner of the room, a shard of broken glass glinted in the dim light.
—-
Nana jolted awake, her chest heaving as she gasped for air. The dream?—lingered, vivid and raw.
She sat up in bed, her body trembling. The faint hum of the lab surrounded her, but the sterile, modern environment did little to calm her racing thoughts.
Her eyes darted to the mirror beside her bed. For a moment, she hesitated, afraid to look. But the pull was irresistible.
The reflection stared back—a fusion of human and machine. Her right arm, her abdomen, her legs—all metal, all alien. Her left eye, human and wide with fear, contrasted sharply with the cold mechanical glint of her right.
Slowly, she swung her legs over the side of the bed. The metallic joints whirred faintly.
She stood, wobbling as her synthetic limbs struggled to balance. She refused to use the wheelchair, even as her knees buckled. Her stubbornness drove her forward, step by step, until she stumbled and fell to the floor with a loud clang.
For a moment, she lay there, overwhelmed by her own reflection in the polished tiles.
The memories of her nightmare surged back—the lab, the screams, the broken promises. Her fists clenched.
She couldn't trust anyone. Not the scientists. Not the students. Not even Max.
Her mind replayed Claire's cryptic words from weeks ago in the library:
"Enjoy your time here, Nana. Look around, make friends. Our project starts next month, so don't do anything… rash."
RINGGGG!!!!!
The school bell rang, signaling the start of breakfast. The hustle and bustle of students filled the halls as they made their way to the cafeteria. Nana slowly stood up from her seat, her movements stiff and uncertain. Her robotic limbs, though functional, were still unfamiliar to her. As she shuffled down the corridor, the noise of students grew louder, but she kept her head down, avoiding the curious stares from the others.
Arriving at the cafeteria, Nana hesitated for a moment at the entrance. Her gaze scanned the room, looking for a place to sit. Max was already there, chatting animatedly with a group of friends at one of the tables. She noticed he glanced at her once, but quickly turned his attention back to the conversation, as if she didn't even exist. A pang of hurt twisted in her chest, but she pushed it away.
Nana walked past him, her footsteps uncertain. The chatter of the cafeteria seemed to grow louder as she moved, but it didn't matter. She didn't belong here. She didn't belong anywhere.
She made her way toward a nearly empty table, her steps faltering slightly as she tried to balance herself. Her body, still unfamiliar and uncoordinated, caused her to stumble, but she caught herself on the edge of the table. Her fingers gripped the surface as she steadied herself, silently cursing the weakness she felt in her new form. She felt like a stranger in her own skin.
She picked up a tray from the food counter, but as she reached for her meal, her hand trembled, making the tray tilt slightly. A small piece of food fell off and landed on the floor with a soft thud. She sighed quietly, bending down awkwardly to pick it up. As she straightened herself, she noticed the curious glances from nearby students. Some whispered to each other, others just stared.
Nana felt a flush of embarrassment, her chest tightening with discomfort. She wanted to escape, but she couldn't. She was trapped in this strange, robotic body, surrounded by people who didn't understand her.
She sat down at the table, trying to ignore the whispers, trying to force herself to eat.
Nana's hands trembled as she tried to steady the tray, but it slipped, the food scattering across the table with a sickening sound. Her vision blurred, and before she could stop it, tears welled up in her eyes. She didn't want to cry. She didn't want to show weakness, but the weight of it all—the humiliation, the loneliness—crashed down on her.
She quickly wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, hoping no one would notice. But Max had already seen.
His friends had fallen silent. For a brief moment, it felt like the world had paused, the noise of the cafeteria fading into the background. Max stood frozen, his expression unreadable. He looked at the mess on the table, then at her tear-streaked face. For a moment, Nana thought he might say something—something that would make her feel seen, maybe even comforted. But all he did was sigh.
"That's real pathetic," Max muttered under his breath, loud enough for her to hear.
Nana's heart sank. His words, sharp and cutting, were like daggers to her already fragile spirit. She quickly gathered what little was left of her dignity and turned away, walking as fast as she could, trying to escape the judgment that clung to her like a second skin.
She didn't look back.
But then, just as she reached the door, she heard him again.
"Nana, wait."
She paused, her heart pounding. Was it pity? Or something worse? She refused to turn around. Max had made it clear where he stood—she was just a freak to him.
But then, as if sensing her hesitation, he spoke again. "Don't make a scene." His voice was quieter now, almost… strained.
Nana stood there, frozen. The sound of her heartbeat filled her ears as she felt the sharp edge of humiliation sink deeper. What did he want now?
Nana stood motionless, her back still turned to Max, her hand clutching the doorframe. Her mind was racing. Should she just leave? Should she just escape from all of this? She couldn't even get a simple meal without feeling like an outcast.
Just as she was about to walk out, she heard the clatter of footsteps behind her. Max's voice called out again, but this time it wasn't laced with mockery. It was sharp, demanding.
"Are you really just going to run away from everything?"
Nana's pulse quickened. She stiffened, her hand still gripping the doorframe. She didn't want to face him. Not now. Not after everything. But she couldn't ignore the way his voice sounded—something was different about it.
Without turning around, she spoke through clenched teeth. "What do you want from me?"
There was silence, then the sound of footsteps drawing closer. A chill ran down her spine, and she could feel Max's presence behind her, like a shadow looming over her.
"You know," Max's voice dropped lower, "you're pathetic. Crying over something as stupid as this. You think it makes you weak?"
Nana's heart tightened. She didn't want to hear this, didn't want to believe this was the kind of person Max was. She gritted her teeth, trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill again. But just when she thought she could block it out, she felt his hand touch her shoulder. A cold, possessive touch that made her freeze.
"Don't ever think I'm doing this out of pity for you." His voice was low, and there was something in it that made her blood run cold. "You think you're different? You're just like me."
Nana spun around in shock, her eyes wide. Max was standing just inches from her now, his eyes dark, his jaw clenched. There was something cold and terrifying in his gaze, something she hadn't seen before.
"Don't look at me like that," she whispered, stepping back instinctively.
Max's expression twisted into a smirk, but it wasn't the playful, carefree one she had grown accustomed to. It was darker. Dangerous.
"You don't even know what I'm capable of. You think you're broken?" He leaned in closer, his face inches from hers, his breath hot against her skin. "I've seen worse than you."
Nana recoiled, her heart hammering in her chest. Was this really the same Max? The one who had seemed kind at times? Or had she misjudged him all along?
As the silence hung between them, Max slowly stepped back, a cruel chuckle escaping his lips. "I thought you'd figured it out by now. But maybe you're too naïve. Too trusting."
Nana felt a surge of fear run through her, but it wasn't just fear—it was confusion, anger, betrayal. She wanted to scream, but no words came out. Instead, she turned and fled the cafeteria, not daring to look back.
Nana's voice was barely above a whisper, but it cut through the tense silence like a blade.
"You act different," she said, her words trembling as she met his gaze.
Max didn't respond right away. He simply stood there, staring at her with that cold, unreadable expression. But something in Nana's eyes seemed to break through the mask he had carefully built.
Nana's heart sank as she looked at him, her face filled with a mixture of sadness and disappointment. She had trusted him, even in the brief moments when he had shown kindness, and now she felt betrayed. All the walls she had built around herself to protect her vulnerability were slowly crumbling away, piece by piece.
"I didn't expect this from you," she whispered, her voice trembling with both hurt and confusion.
Max's jaw tightened, but he didn't speak. His eyes flickered briefly, as though struggling with something, before he turned his gaze away, breaking the silence with a bitter laugh.
"Expectation," he muttered, more to himself than to her. "You never should've had any."
The words stung, and Nana felt her chest tighten with the weight of his cold indifference. She wanted to scream at him, ask him why, but the words seemed to choke in her throat.
Before she could say another word, Max took a step back, his posture stiff and unyielding. "I don't have time for this," he said flatly. His voice was colder than before, like a door slamming shut, leaving Nana standing there in the midst of it all, feeling more alone than ever.
Max turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing in the cafeteria, leaving Nana standing in the same spot, rooted to the floor. She didn't even know what to think anymore.
Later that night, the cafeteria's cold atmosphere still lingered in Nana's mind. The mocking tone of Max's voice echoed in her head as she lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling. The weight of the day pressed down on her, and the tears she had held back began to fall silently.
She couldn't sleep, couldn't shake the feeling that everything was slipping through her fingers. Nana pushed herself out of bed, her limbs stiff and unfamiliar. She moved quietly, careful not to wake anyone, and made her way up to the rooftop.
The chill of the night air hit her like a slap as she stepped onto the cold, empty rooftop. She could see the city stretching out before her, the lights flickering like stars. But none of it mattered. The world felt so far away from her, like she didn't belong to it.
Her heart ached, the weight of her robotic body and the emotions she couldn't fully understand pressing on her chest. She sat down on the edge of the rooftop, her feet dangling over the side, her vision blurred by the tears streaming down her face.
Nana cried in silence, her sobs wracking her body, each one more desperate than the last. She wanted to scream, to break free from this feeling of emptiness, but no sound left her lips. Her broken heart ached in ways she couldn't explain.
A soft click of the rooftop door opening made her freeze, but she didn't look up. She didn't care who it was. If it was Max, if it was anyone, they wouldn't understand. She didn't want to face anyone, didn't want to hear more empty words.
"Nana…"
The voice was low, almost hesitant. She blinked, slowly raising her head, her tear-streaked face looking over her shoulder. There, standing in the doorway, was Max.
The sight of him shocked her. The coldness that had been there in the cafeteria was gone, replaced by something she couldn't read. He stood in the shadows, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets, his expression unreadable.
"What do you want?" Nana's voice cracked as she spoke, though she could feel the pain seeping into every word.
Max hesitated, his gaze flickering between Nana and the ground, as though struggling to find the right thing to say. He took a step forward, his eyes softening, but his movements were still guarded.
"I… I didn't mean what I said earlier," Max said, his voice quieter than before. "I don't know what's wrong with me… I just… I was frustrated."
Nana didn't know how to respond. The hurt she felt wasn't something that could just be fixed with words. She looked away, wiping at her eyes, trying to compose herself, but it felt useless. The tears kept coming.
Max approached her slowly, and for a moment, it seemed like he might leave again. But then, he stopped, a mere few steps away from her, standing still as though unsure what to do next.
"I'm sorry, Nana," he said again, his voice softer now, almost… genuine?
Nana turned her head slightly, not trusting herself to speak. Her chest tightened, torn between the hope that Max's apology was real and the anger that still simmered inside her. She had trusted him, but now she wasn't sure if she could ever trust anyone again.
Max stood there in silence for a few moments longer before he slowly sat beside her, his presence tentative yet almost comforting. For the first time, Nana noticed how close he was, how the silence between them seemed to stretch in a strange way.
Neither of them spoke for a long time, just sitting there together, watching the city lights flicker in the distance. The cool night air chilled her, but something about Max's presence next to her made her feel less alone—though the emptiness still lingered, just out of reach.
But then, without warning, Max turned to her, his expression hardening once more, though not in a mocking way.
"Don't think you're the only one going through hell, Nana," he said softly, his voice low but with a sharp edge. "You're not the only one carrying a weight you can't understand."
Nana's heart skipped a beat at the sudden change in his tone. There was something different now, a hidden vulnerability beneath his words, but it was quickly masked again, just like before. It left her confused, unsure of where she stood with him.
"Why do you act like this?" Nana whispered, her voice barely audible.
Max didn't answer immediately. Instead, he stood up slowly, taking a step back, his face unreadable once more.
"I'm not the person you think I am, Nana," he said. "But maybe you'll find out soon enough."
With that, Max turned and walked away, leaving Nana alone once more, her mind racing with questions she wasn't sure she could answer. She stared at his retreating figure until it disappeared into the night, the feeling of confusion and hurt still lingering in the air.
As Nana remained alone on the rooftop, she realized that the complexity of Max—and the people around her—was something she couldn't easily decipher. The weight of their unspoken words, the tension in their interactions, was far from over.
Nana's chest heaved as her emotions swirled—anger, hurt, confusion, all mixing together in a storm she couldn't control. Max was walking away again, like she didn't matter, like everything they had just said didn't mean anything. She couldn't stand it.
Without thinking, she charged after him, her hands trembling.
"Max!" she shouted, desperation in her voice. She reached out and grabbed his wrist, stopping him from taking another step. He froze, his body stiffening at the unexpected touch. His eyes flickered toward her, narrowing slightly, but he didn't say anything.
"You think you can just walk away from this?" Nana's voice cracked, the frustration boiling over. She stepped in front of him, blocking his path.
Max's expression softened for a moment, almost like he was about to say something, but before he could open his mouth, Nana slapped him across the face. The sound of the slap rang through the quiet night air, a sharp, stinging silence that followed.
Max's head snapped to the side, his eyes wide with disbelief. He didn't flinch, didn't even touch his face. For a split second, Nana thought she might've gone too far, but the anger in her veins made her push forward.
"Tell me!" she screamed, her voice hoarse with all the emotions she had been bottling up. "Tell me what's going on, Max! Tell me why you keep doing this to me—why you keep pushing me away, why you keep acting like I'm some kind of experiment! You think you can just ignore me and keep me in the dark?"
Her hands were trembling as she balled them into fists at her sides. Her chest was rising and falling erratically with each breath, the tears she had been holding back starting to blur her vision. But she didn't care anymore. She needed answers.
"I hate using my voice!" she yelled again, her voice breaking. "But you made me use it tonight! I can't stand this anymore! Do you hear me, Max? You've hurt me enough. Just tell me why!"
For a moment, Max stood still, his eyes locked on hers. His face was hard, expressionless. He looked like he was about to say something, but the words seemed to catch in his throat. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, as if unsure of what to say. His eyes flickered with something—a flash of something she couldn't read.
"You want to know why I'm doing this?" Max's voice was low, almost a whisper, but there was something dark in it now. "You think I'm playing with you? You don't know what you're dealing with, Nana."
Nana felt her heart race. Was that a threat? Was he serious?
Max stepped closer to her, his gaze intense, not cold but almost like he was testing her—testing how far she would go. "You think I've been cruel to you? You don't know the first thing about cruelty," he whispered, his breath brushing against her ear. The words sent a chill down her spine.
Her chest tightened, her throat constricting. What was he saying?
Before she could respond, Max reached out, his fingers brushing her wrist where she had grabbed him earlier. He held her there, his grip gentle, yet firm enough to remind her that she was powerless against him in that moment.
"You're not the only one who has to face things," he said, his voice turning cold. "You want answers? I don't owe you any. You don't want to know the truth. Not yet."
Max's eyes lingered on her for a long, tense moment, and for the first time, Nana saw something flicker in them—something dark, something he was hiding.
"Just remember this," Max said, his grip tightening for a second before releasing her wrist. "Not everyone in this world is what they seem. Sometimes, the truth is darker than you can imagine."
Nana stood frozen, her breath shallow as the weight of his words hit her like a truck. What was he talking about? What truth?
Max turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing in the quiet night. He didn't look back.
Her knees buckled, and she sank to the ground, clutching her chest. The night air felt colder now, the darkness pressing in on her as the shadows of uncertainty grew longer.
Nana made a decision.
She would keep her distance from Max.