Sezel stepped inside, and an opulent fragrance, the kind he imagined rich people invented just to feel something—enveloped the spacious room. The door whispered shut behind him, sealing him in a sanctum of luxury that was so far removed from his reality, it felt like a practical joke.
His crimson eyes roamed in wonder, heart thudding restlessly against his ribs. The grand bed draped in immaculate white sheets that had probably never seen a speck of dirt.
This place was certainly above his pay grade. Which, to be fair, was zero.
So this is what being a slayer earns you? Sezel thought, a grin spreading on his face from ear to ear, as he launched himself onto the bed.
Maybe this whole 'being a test subject in another country' thing has its perks.
The mattress swallowed him whole, a cloud of impossible softness that seemed to be actively trying to erase the lifetime of grime and misery he'd carried.
It was absurd. Surreal. And yet, disturbingly comforting. Just a short while ago, he'd been staring death in the face in the Spirit Realm. Now, he was being pampered by a bed that was probably worth more than his entire existence.
For the first time in what felt like an eternity, sleep came easily. Sezel sank into a deep, dreamless slumber, his tired body yielding to the bed's seductive allure.
In that moment, nestled in the absurd luxury of his new prison, Sezel let himself believe—maybe surviving had been worth something after all.
Who knew how long this fragile peace would last? He decided to enjoy it while he could.
If I'm going to be a lab rat, I might as well be a comfortable lab rat.
_
_
_
Sunlight, the audacious intruder, seeped through the slits in the curtains, streaking across the bed like searchlights. The facility's walls outside glowed beneath the rising sun.
A relentless buzz stirred Sezel from sleep—his assessment device he received yesterday. He blearily opened his eyes, blinking against the morning light. He picked up the device; it had already been set up in his language, which was a nice touch.
"Captain?" He read the name aloud, then pressed the glowing green button.
"Good morning," Raelion's familiar, cheerful tone filtered through the speaker. "So you do know how to answer a phone."
Sezel frowned, his lips twitching into a scowl. "I am not some ancient being from a forgotten era. I know how to use a mobile phone," he snapped
Mobile phones had been around for many years. Even Sezel, living in the outskirts, in the slums, once had a mobile phone. However broken it may be, he knew how to use one. It was the most common technology around, and rich people throw away anything useful they don't like.
Raelion chuckled. "Sure, sure. Submit your key to reception in an hour. They'll show you what comes next."
Sezel nodded—not like anyone could see him do so.
"You alive or not? Say something, damn it."
"…Yes," he muttered before dismissing the line.
He dragged himself out of the glorious bed and into his own personal bathroom—a concept so foreign it was almost laughable.
The lights flickered on with a soft hiss, and steam rose around him as he washed away the grime of yesterday. He paused before the mirror.
The haunted, half-starved boy he used to be was gone. In his place was a stranger with white hair and red eyes, a ghost wearing his face.
Looking handsome, Sezel. He laughed.
He slipped into the fresh clothes that had been laid out for him, donned his translating device, and left the room. Descending the stairs, he passed other students and a few older men who carried themselves with the weary confidence of seasoned slayers.
So these buildings are for slayers, he realized, a flicker of understanding cutting through his morning grogginess. That means this isn't a military facility. It's a corporations building.
He halted mid-step.
Fingers flew across the assessment device interface. It didn't take long. There it was. So I was right.
Issuer: Blood Bound Corporation
The name of the issuer clearly showed the name of the corporation. Sezel was not in some public or military facility for awakened ones, but a corporation named 'Blood Bound.'
Sezel had suspected much—didn't pay much attention to it. Awakened people have to register themselves up with a corporation to become an official slayer and obtain the assessment device, not to mention the food and the room.
He had been registered, tagged, and bagged by the Blood Bound Corporation, whether he liked it or not.
"A bunch of smart pants," he muttered, a wry grin spreading across his face. He should have been angry, but all he felt was a strange gratitude. Even with a Rank 0 awakening, someone had taken him in.
He had expected to be thrown back out on the street, or worse. Perfect, he thought. I've been acquired. I wonder what the return policy is.
He proceeded to go down the stairs. The reception was flocked with slayers, submitting their room keys and getting scanned by the machine.
He placed his in a machine's tray; it sealed, scanning his eyes with a soft hum. Efficient. The device would return the correct key upon his return, a marvel of modern technology.
Outside, he joined a line of Slayers being herded by guards toward the classroom facility. But instead of classrooms, they were led to the vast garden, where hundreds of other Slayers, a mix of veterans and rookies, were already gathered. The air buzzed with a confused, expectant energy.
Sezel looked around, puzzled. What's going on now? A pop quiz? A surprise execution? Wait... an execution? No way they gonna execute me so soon.
Captain Raelion and the taller man from yesterday stood at the front, flanked by four other men, all of them sporting the same single crescent moon badge. Something special is definitely going on today.
And his questions were soon answered. The tall man stepped forward, a small, fly-like mic hovering before his lips. His voice rang out.
"Good morning, fellow slayers," he began, his voice silencing the crowd. "Today, we announce what you've all anticipated."
The garden fell silent, a sea of expectant faces turned toward the front. The man spoke again, his voice resonating with a theatrical gravity. "The world currently holds forty-nine Rank-5 slayers. Today, we welcome our fiftieth: Krono Silvia."
A wave of murmurs, like a rising tide, swept through the crowd. The boy in question stepped onto the makeshift stage, his blonde hair flowing like silken threads, his raven-black outfit clinging to his lean, sturdy frame.
Destiny, it seemed, had a tailor. And a very proficient one at that.
Sezel's lips quirked into a smirk. 'So Mr. Richrat is now famous.' He'd already overheard Krono's Rank 5 claim yesterday. This was just the official press release. But his gaze lingered longer than he expected.