The night air was cool, a sharp contrast to the warmth of the building she had just stepped out of. Nana leaned against the wall outside, her eyes scanning the dimly lit courtyard. She had told herself she would wait for James, though she wasn't entirely sure why. Maybe it was the curiosity that gnawed at her, the unanswered questions she needed to confront. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the need for answers she couldn't ignore.
A soft rustle interrupted her thoughts, and James appeared from the shadows, his figure sleek and confident under the moonlight. His usual easy smile was in place, but there was a glint of something darker in his eyes, something that didn't quite match his friendly demeanor.
"You waiting for me?" James asked casually, stepping closer to her. His voice was smooth, almost comforting, but Nana was cautious.
"Yeah," Nana replied, standing upright. She could feel her heart rate pick up slightly, a mix of anticipation and wariness. "You said something about an organization. What is it, exactly? And why should I trust you?"
James' eyes sparkled with amusement. "You're smart," he said, almost as if he were approving her hesitation. "I'll give you that. But trust isn't something you just hand out, right?" He paused, letting that sink in before continuing. "Our organization is… well, let's just say it's more than what meets the eye. We work on the cutting edge of research, on things that could change the world as we know it."
Nana's processors hummed as she analyzed his words. There was something hidden, something he wasn't saying, and that made her even more cautious.
"Change the world?" Nana asked, narrowing her eyes. "And how exactly do you plan to do that? Using people like me?"
James chuckled lightly, but there was a slight edge to his smile now. "You're different, Nana. You've got potential, you've got what it takes to be more than just… well, just a person. What we're working on, it's for people like you."
Nana felt a chill run down her spine. People like me? She glanced at him, her eyes hardening. "What do you mean by that? I'm not some project for you to use."
James stepped closer, his voice low. "That's where you're wrong. You are a project. But don't worry, it's for the greater good."
Nana took a step back, her fists clenching involuntarily. "And what if I refuse? What if I don't want to be a part of whatever this is?"
James didn't flinch. Instead, he looked at her with a mixture of pity and amusement. "Refuse? You're already a part of it. You can't run from who you are. What we're offering, it's an opportunity. A chance to be something… more than what you think you are."
Nana's mind raced. Something more? She wanted to scream, to tell him to leave her alone, but she knew better than to act impulsively. She had to think, to understand what was really going on here.
"You really think I'd just fall for that?" Nana asked, her voice low but steady. "I'm not stupid, James. I'm not some lab rat for you to experiment on."
James' smile faltered for a moment, the darkness behind his eyes flickering just briefly. "You might think you're not ready for this, Nana. But trust me, in time, you'll see. You won't have a choice."
A strange silence hung between them as James took a step back, seemingly to give her space. He didn't leave, though. It was as if he were waiting for something, for her to make a decision.
Nana hesitated, her thoughts swirling in her mind. She knew she couldn't trust him—there was something inherently wrong about this situation. But the offer, the promise of something greater, gnawed at her. Could she really refuse? Was there even an option to walk away?
Her fingers brushed the small device at the back of her neck, the one that helped her communicate. She thought about everything she had endured so far. Was this just another manipulation? Another way to control her, to twist her into something she wasn't?
"I don't trust you," Nana finally said, her voice firm, her decision made in that moment.
James didn't seem surprised, but his smile faded, replaced by a more calculating expression. "That's your choice, Nana," he said softly, almost too softly. "But you'll come around. They always do."
As he turned to leave, Nana's mind raced. What did he mean by that? Who else was involved in all this?
She didn't know the answers yet, but one thing was clear: the path ahead wasn't as simple as she had hoped. And the more she resisted, the more it seemed like they were pulling her deeper into something she wasn't ready to face.
But she would face it. She had no choice.
Nana's heart raced as she pressed herself against the cold wall, listening intently to the hushed voices inside the room. She couldn't believe what she was hearing.
"…if the experiment succeeds on Fujinami Akari, the rest of the orphans will follow. Complete obedience. No emotions. Assassins perfectly engineered to execute without question," one voice said, calm and calculated.
"Perfect tools," another voice chimed in. "The test subject is stable so far. We just need a few more trials. No one will suspect children."
Nana's chest tightened as a cold chill ran down her spine. Fujinami Akari… Experiment? Kids? Assassins? Her mind struggled to piece it together, but the weight of their words pressed on her, suffocating her with dread. These weren't just rumors. This was a plan—a horrifying, calculated plan.
She stumbled back from the door, her breaths shallow and rapid. Her vision blurred for a moment as the shock of the conversation took hold. I need to get out of here…
Her legs moved on their own, carrying her through the dimly lit halls until she reached the Aquarium. She stopped short, her hands trembling as she stared through the massive glass walls.
Inside were rows of small, sterile rooms. Each room housed a child, sitting motionless on the floor. Their eyes were void of life, their faces eerily calm. Doctors moved between them, injecting vials of glowing liquid into their small arms.
Nana felt like her chest was being crushed. These weren't just any children—they were orphans, stripped of everything, even their humanity. They weren't living. They were tools, like the voices had said. A part of her wanted to scream, but her voice felt trapped in her throat.
One child caught her attention. A small girl with a pale face and dark hair stared directly at the glass wall where Nana stood. The girl's gaze was hollow, empty, and yet, somehow, it felt as if she was silently crying out.
Nana took a step back, unable to look away from the child. The reality of what this place was crashed down on her like a tidal wave. This isn't a school. It's a factory.
She turned and bolted, her feet pounding against the floor as she ran through the corridors. The walls felt like they were closing in, the shadows stretching longer and darker. She had to get out. She had to get away.
When she finally burst through the school's gates, she didn't stop. Her legs burned, her breath was ragged, but she didn't care. She ran through the night, past the trees and the empty streets, as far as her body could take her.
Eventually, she reached an abandoned clearing on the outskirts of town. The night sky stretched above her, indifferent to the chaos unraveling inside her mind. She collapsed to her knees, tears streaming down her face as the weight of everything she had seen bore down on her.
Fujinami Akari. The experiments. The children. The assassins.
Her hands trembled as she clenched her fists against the cold ground. She wanted to scream, to cry, to destroy everything around her. But all she could do was sit there, overwhelmed by the gravity of what she'd uncovered.
And then she heard it—a faint sound behind her, like a twig snapping. She froze, her body instinctively tensing as she whipped around.
From the shadows emerged a figure. James Arthur.
"Well, well," he said, his voice smooth and calm, as if he'd been expecting her. "I see you've stumbled upon some secrets."
Nana's eyes narrowed, her heart pounding. "You knew about this, didn't you?" she hissed, her voice shaking with anger. "The children. The experiments. Everything."
James smirked, taking a slow step closer. "I know a lot of things, Nana. And so do you now. But the real question is… what are you going to do about it?"
Nana glared at him, her fists clenching tightly. "I'll stop it," she said, her voice steady despite the storm inside her. "I'll stop all of it."
James's smile widened, his eyes glinting with something unreadable. "Brave words," he said. "But be careful, Nana. You're playing a dangerous game. And in this game… you're either the hunter or the prey."
Before she could respond, James turned and disappeared into the shadows, leaving her alone in the clearing. Nana stared after him, her mind spinning with fear, anger, and determination.
She didn't know how she was going to stop it, but she knew one thing for sure: she wouldn't let those children suffer.
Not while she still had the strength to fight.
James's smirk widened as he leaned against a nearby tree, his silhouette bathed in moonlight. "Ah, so you've finally found your fire," he said, his voice a mix of amusement and intrigue. "I was wondering how long it would take."
Nana took a step closer, her fists clenched. "James, if you're doing this for a good purpose, I'll hear you out. But don't play games with me. I don't want to be someone's obedient puppet," she spat, her voice firm despite the turmoil in her heart. "I have a purpose now—a real purpose. I'm going to save those children and destroy these experiments. But first…"
Her gaze hardened, piercing through James's playful demeanor. "Tell me. What benefit do I get if I join you?"
James raised an eyebrow, his smirk softening into something more serious. For a moment, he said nothing, just studying her with an unreadable expression. Then he let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "You're an interesting one, Nana. I'll give you that."
He pushed off the tree, his posture casual but his tone suddenly sharp. "You think this is about benefits? That if you join me, you'll get some kind of reward or prize? Let me clue you in—this isn't a fairytale. Joining me means stepping into a world where survival is a gamble, and trust is a liability."
Nana didn't waver, her eyes narrowing. "That's not an answer. If you want me on your side, I need to know what you stand for and what you're offering."
James exhaled, the playful glint in his eyes fading entirely. "Fine. You want the truth? If you join me, you'll get two things: the chance to fight back against the people who did this to you and the tools to take them down. But here's the catch—you don't get to walk away unscathed. You'll lose things along the way—your innocence, your peace, maybe even your life."
Nana crossed her arms, her expression unwavering. "I've already lost everything," she said quietly. "I don't have peace. I don't have innocence. And my life? It hasn't been mine for a long time. So stop trying to scare me. If you have a plan, tell me. I'm not afraid of the cost."
James's eyes darkened, and for a moment, his confident façade cracked, revealing something deeper—something almost vulnerable. "You're bold, Nana. That's the truth," he murmured. "But boldness alone won't save you."
He stepped closer, his voice dropping. "If you want to save those kids, if you want to destroy the experiments, you'll need to be ruthless. This isn't just about fighting—it's about outsmarting people who've built an empire on control. And for that, you'll need me."
Nana tilted her chin up defiantly. "Then help me. Teach me what I need to know. But don't think for a second that I'll become like you."
James smirked again, but there was no humor in it this time. "Fair enough," he said. "But remember this—you're stepping into a world where right and wrong blur together. You might think you're different now, but give it time. Everyone changes when they're desperate enough."
Nana clenched her fists, the fire in her eyes burning brighter. "Maybe. But I won't let those kids become what I am. That's my purpose now."
James stared at her for a long moment before nodding slowly. "Alright, Nana. You've got yourself a deal. But don't say I didn't warn you."
He turned to leave, his figure fading into the darkness. Nana stood there, her heart pounding, the weight of her decision settling over her. She didn't trust James, not completely. But for the first time, she felt like she had control—like she had a chance to fight back.
As the night stretched on, she made her way back to the school, her resolve stronger than ever. Whatever came next, she was ready. She wasn't going to let fear stop her. Not now. Not ever.
The same night
Max carefully balanced the tray of food in his hands as he made his way to the aquarium. The sterile, cold corridor was eerily silent, save for the faint hum of machinery. Reaching the glass-paneled room, he stared inside at the children sitting in perfectly arranged rows, eating their meals with robotic precision. Their blank faces, devoid of any emotion, sent a chill down his spine.
He pushed open the door quietly and placed the tray on the counter. A couple of staff members looked up but said nothing, too preoccupied with their tasks. Max's gaze lingered on the children—innocent lives stolen and turned into tools. His fists clenched as he turned to leave.
Just as he exited the room, he froze. A pair of voices drifted from a nearby corridor. He instinctively stepped into the shadows, listening intently.
"Project 1940… It's going to restart soon," one voice said, hushed and urgent. "The awakening process is almost complete. This time, it will be flawless."
Max's stomach dropped. His mind raced—Project 1940? Restart? His thoughts were interrupted by a soft voice from behind him.
"You know, eavesdropping isn't very polite," Claire purred, her tone sickeningly sweet.
Before he could react, he felt her arms snake around his torso, a false intimacy in her touch. Max stiffened, his breath catching as his jaw tightened.
"What are you doing, Claire?" he asked coldly, prying her arms off him as he turned to face her.
She smiled, undeterred by his rejection. "Oh, Max. Don't act so distant. You must really want to save those poor children, don't you?"
Max's eyes narrowed, his body tense. "And what does that have to do with you?"
Claire leaned closer, her gaze piercing. "Perhaps, I want the same thing," she said, her voice dripping with a mixture of sincerity and malice. "Why don't we work together, Max? Think about it—a partnership. You're strong, smart. I have resources and influence. Together, we could accomplish so much."
Max took a step back, his guard up. "I don't trust you, Claire."
Her lips curved into a sly smile. "Trust isn't necessary, Max. We just need the same goal. And I think we do." She paused, letting her words sink in before continuing, her tone dark and persuasive. "There's one important group of people we need to vanish from this world. Once they're gone, everyone—including those children—will be free. How's that sound?"
Max stared at her, his mind whirling. The weight of her words hung heavily in the air. "Vanish them?" he repeated, his voice low, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. "What exactly are you talking about, Claire?"
She leaned in closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "The scientists. The ones running this entire operation. They're the root of all this suffering. Remove them, and the entire system collapses."
Max's stomach churned. He knew she wasn't lying—what she said held truth. But her tone, her demeanor, it all screamed manipulation. He stepped back again, shaking his head. "You don't care about those kids, Claire. You're just looking for an excuse to spill blood."
Claire tilted her head, her smile unwavering. "Does it matter? The end result is the same, isn't it? They're free, and we get what we want."
Max clenched his fists, anger simmering beneath his calm exterior. "No," he said firmly. "I won't work with you. I'll find another way."
Claire's expression darkened for a brief moment, but it quickly melted back into a smirk. "Suit yourself," she said lightly, stepping back. "But remember, Max—you can't save everyone. And when the time comes, you'll realize I was your best option."
She turned and sauntered down the corridor, leaving Max standing there, conflicted and furious. As her figure disappeared into the shadows, he let out a frustrated breath, his mind already racing for a way to stop whatever was about to happen.
This wasn't just about saving the children anymore—it was about stopping something far greater. And Max knew the clock was ticking.
Max stood frozen, his thoughts a whirlwind of Claire's cryptic offer and the ominous whispers of Project 1940. The fluorescent lights flickered above him as he clenched his fists, his pulse pounding in his ears. His instincts screamed at him to act, but every move felt like stepping into a minefield.
Turning on his heel, he decided to head back to the dorms. He couldn't shake the unease in his chest—the feeling that every second wasted brought the world closer to chaos. His mind was still clouded with frustration when his communicator buzzed softly in his pocket.
He fished it out, expecting an update from one of the staff or a harmless notification. Instead, a single message flashed on the screen:
"They're watching. Choose your side wisely."
Max's heart sank as he glanced around the empty hallway, his sharp gaze scanning every shadow. The message had no sender, no traceable origin. He quickly deleted it and slipped the device back into his pocket, his mind spinning.
Meanwhile, Nana sat at the edge of her bed, staring at the small device she'd stolen from the school cooperative earlier—a recording pen. The unease she felt after overhearing the scientists talk about Fujinami Akari and the orphans refused to leave her. She knew she couldn't face this alone, and she couldn't trust James entirely either.
Who could I trust? she thought bitterly. Her mind drifted to Max, but the memory of his cold dismissal earlier that week made her chest ache.
"Forget it," she muttered to herself, shaking her head. She clipped the recording device onto her collar and stood, her resolve hardening. I'll expose them on my own.
Later that night, Max found himself restless, pacing his dorm. Claire's words echoed in his mind, and the cryptic message only deepened his paranoia. He needed answers, and there was only one place he could think of to start.
He left the dorm and made his way to the Aquarium. The dimly lit corridors seemed to stretch endlessly, and the sound of his own footsteps unnerved him. When he reached the glass-paneled room, he stood silently for a moment, watching the children inside. Their emotionless faces, their mechanical movements—it was haunting.
Before he could turn away, his gaze landed on a small girl in the corner. She was holding a stuffed animal—a rabbit—and for a brief moment, her eyes flickered with something almost human. Max's breath caught. Was it sadness? Recognition? He wasn't sure, but it sent a chill down his spine.
Suddenly, the sound of footsteps snapped him out of his thoughts. He spun around to see Nana standing in the doorway, her face pale but determined.
"What are you doing here?" Max asked sharply, his voice low.
Nana hesitated for a moment before stepping closer. "I could ask you the same thing," she said, her voice firm despite the fear in her eyes.
Their gazes locked, and for the first time in weeks, neither of them looked away.
"I know about the experiments," Nana whispered. "The orphans. Fujinami Akari. Everything."
Max's jaw tightened. "You shouldn't be here, Nana," he said, his tone softer now but laced with urgency.
"I have a purpose now," Nana said, her voice trembling slightly. "I'm going to save them, Max. All of them. And I don't care if I have to destroy every single person behind this."
Max stared at her, conflicted. "Do you even know what you're up against?"
"No," she admitted, her eyes burning with determination. "But I don't care. I can't just sit by and let this happen."
Max exhaled heavily, his eyes scanning the hallway. "You're going to get yourself killed."
"Then help me," she said simply, stepping closer.
The weight of her words hung heavily between them. Max turned back to the glass, his reflection staring back at him alongside the emotionless children.
"I overheard something," he said finally. "About Project 1940. They're restarting it soon."
Nana's eyes widened. "What does that mean?"
"It means," Max said grimly, "that this is only the beginning."
As the night stretched on, the two stood there, united by their shared resolve but burdened by the uncertainty of what lay ahead.
Max turned back toward Nana, his face unreadable. "If you really want to do this, you'll need more than just anger to survive," he said quietly, his voice carrying a sharp edge.
Nana crossed her arms, trying to mask her nerves. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means," Max began, stepping closer until there was barely a breath of space between them, "that the people running this place? They don't leave loose ends. And if you're not careful, you'll become one."
Nana didn't flinch, her determination unwavering despite the knot tightening in her stomach. "I'm not scared of them."
Max let out a humorless laugh, his eyes narrowing. "You should be." He leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. "They've killed for less, Nana. Trust me, I've seen it."
Her breath hitched, but she held his gaze. "Then why are you still here?"
Max hesitated, his expression darkening. "Because some things," he said slowly, "are worth risking everything for."
Before she could respond, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor. Max grabbed Nana's arm and pulled her into the shadows, pressing her back against the wall.
"Don't move," he whispered, his body shielding hers as the footsteps grew louder.
Through the dim light, Nana could make out two figures passing by, their voices low but hurried.
"We need to inform the council," one of them said. "The awakening is scheduled, but Fujinami Akari's test results are… concerning."
The other man responded, his voice cold. "It doesn't matter. We'll proceed as planned. If she fails, the replacements are ready."
The footsteps faded, leaving a heavy silence behind.
Nana's hands trembled as she pushed Max away, stepping into the dim light. "They're going to use her," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "And if she fails, they'll just move on to the next victim?"
Max's jaw tightened. "That's how they operate. Everyone here is disposable."
"Not anymore," Nana said firmly. Her eyes blazed with a mix of fury and determination. "I'm stopping this."
Max looked at her, his expression unreadable. "And how exactly do you plan to do that?"
She took a deep breath, her voice steady. "I don't know yet. But I'm not backing down."
For a moment, Max said nothing, his gaze locked on hers. Then, to her surprise, he stepped aside and gestured down the hallway.
"Come with me," he said.
"What?"
"I'll show you something," he said, his voice low. "But if you're serious about this, you'll need to see the truth for yourself."
Max led Nana through a series of winding corridors, deeper into the school than she had ever been. The air grew colder, the lights dimmer, and Nana couldn't shake the feeling that they were walking straight into danger.
Finally, Max stopped in front of a heavy steel door. He glanced back at her, his expression deadly serious. "What you're about to see… you can't unsee it. Are you sure you're ready for this?"
Nana nodded, her heart pounding.
Max pushed the door open, and Nana stepped inside.
The room was vast and sterile, lined with glass tanks filled with murky liquid. Inside each tank floated a child, their bodies hooked up to an intricate web of wires and tubes. The sight made Nana's stomach churn.
"This," Max said quietly, "is where they prepare the orphans for the experiments. This is just the beginning."
Nana stared in horror, her mind racing. "How could they…?"
Before she could finish, an alarm blared through the facility, red lights flashing ominously.
"They've found us," Max said sharply. He grabbed her arm. "We need to go. Now."
But Nana didn't move. Her eyes were locked on one of the tanks, where a young girl with a faint resemblance to herself floated, her face eerily calm.
"Nana!" Max shouted, pulling her out of her trance.
With one last glance at the girl, Nana turned and ran with Max, the alarm echoing in her ears.
As they sprinted through the corridors, Nana's resolve hardened. She didn't know how, but she would stop this madness.
And she would make them pay.