I woke up fighting.
Fingers clawing at air, legs kicking, my breath ripping out of me in short, panicked bursts.
"Get off of me!" I screamed, voice cracking. "Don't touch me—get off!"
My back slammed against something cold and wet. But my body didn't care.
"No, no, no—stop!" I shouted, my limbs flailing like I was still in that place, still being held down. "Please—don't—!"
That's when I finally felt it.
There were no hands on me.
No voices. No pressure. Just the sting of cold pavement and rain.
My chest heaved. I blinked hard, trying to see through the blur.
"I'm not there," I whispered. "I'm… I'm not there anymore?"
But my body didn't believe it.
I was lying in some kind of alley, the rough ground biting into my back. Overhead, the moon cast a blurry glow between buildings, smeared behind mist and rain. But just beyond that—past the shadows and dripping pipes—I spotted a faint light.
It wasn't the moon.
A streetlight, maybe. Farther down.
"Maybe… maybe someone's there," I whispered, voice barely more than a breath.
"Maybe I could… call for help…"
I braced my hands against the wet ground and tried to stand, but my legs didn't cooperate. They trembled beneath me, shaky and unreliable—like they'd forgotten how to hold weight.
It felt like trying to walk after being sitting down for too long. Or like all the strength had been drained out of them.
My balance tipped forward before I could stop it, and I collapsed, landing hard—face-first into a shallow puddle. Cold water splashed up against my cheeks.
"Agh——?"
I let out a startled sound—an involuntary groan—but it came out softer and higher than I expected. It wasn't the rough grunt of a man.
"What… what was that?" I whispered, voice shaking. "That moan—was that me?"
It didn't even sound like it came from me.
My heart pounded so hard it made my ribs hurt. That feeling—it didn't stop at my gut. It surged all the way up into my chest, sharp and electric.
I didn't even care about the dirty water soaking my face, or the cold bite of the pavement under my knees.
I push myself up from the puddle, water sloshes against me, splashing across my chest. My nipples tighten instantly puckering like tiny pink buds, more like flowers than a chest. I flinched.
"What the…?" I muttered. "Why does that feel like that?"
I looked down.
The only thing I had on was a pair of tight black spats clinging to my thighs like a second skin. Maybe whoever dumped me here didn't want to give me a full show.
A small mercy.
They were basically shorts, but in that moment? They felt like everything.
The rest of me was completely bare. My chest tingled from the cold breeze sneaking in, sharp and sensitive.
My skin felt strange beneath my fingertips: unnervingly smooth, cool to the touch, almost like polished porcelain, but with an unsettling warmth pulsing just beneath the surface. It was too soft, too perfect.
"This isn't right," I murmured, fingers drifting down my arms.
My mind was a whirlwind of confusion, but instinct kicked in before reason could catch up.
Then—no joke—I tugged my waistband open and check between my legs.
"…Still got it," I breathed. "Thank the stars."
I actually laughed when I found out. Not because it was funny. More like… relief. After everything, I needed to know at least one thing about me hadn't changed.
"Okay. Okay," I said aloud, forcing a breath. "Still me."
I staggered to my feet, legs wobbling like I hadn't used them in years.
"Come on. Walk. Move. Just move…"
My reflection flickered in the puddle below me. Now that I got a better look, it wasn't just me.
It was someone younger.
Someone smaller.
The face in the water was eerily familiar—soft, round cheeks framed by long pink hair streaked with blue, eyes wide and glowing faintly in the dark—almost childish.
"What the…?" I crouched down, staring into it. "That's definitely not me." The words slipped out before I could stop them.
"That… that can't be me."
Whoever she was, she could've been my little sister.
The same face I walked to school every day with, without complaint. The one I loved. The one I protected with everything I had.
But this reflection—this perfect, doll-like mask—wasn't her. Not really.
"What was her name?" I muttered.
Nothing came. Just her image. Just the warmth of her voice.
I remembered how she looked, the sound of her voice—soft and warm like sunlight through cracked glass.
I stared deeper into the puddle, my own eyes staring back—red, unblinking, glowing faintly in the dim light.
Doll-like. Almost innocent.
"God… What happened to me?"
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to shove down the rising panic in my chest.
The cold bit deep—through the too-smooth skin, down to whatever bones I still had. It wasn't just uncomfortable anymore. It was dangerous.
The alley felt tighter suddenly—like the damp walls were pressing in, trapping the air in place.
Moisture dripped from rusted pipes overhead, hitting the ground in slow, rhythmic splashes. The puddles shimmered with rainbow scum, smeared like oil paint in the dark.
The chill was everywhere now. Not sharp—just creeping. Slow. Like something crawling under my skin and settling there.
The ground was wet beneath my knees, the breeze threading through the alley like a ghost with cold hands. The stink of old oil, urine, and something sour clung to everything, seeping into my nose and making my chest feel tight.
I hugged my arms around myself.
My skin was too smooth, too soft, and offered no protection.
If I stayed out here any longer, I was going to freeze.
"That's it. Get up. Keep moving. Don't think. Just—move."
That kind of cold that didn't just sting—it hollowed you out. Crawled into your bones and sat there, heavy and patient.
My breath shook as I hugged myself tighter. My arms didn't even feel like mine—they moved, no muscle ache, no strain. Just softness. Just obedience.
The sharp bite of the cold drained what little strength I had left.
My limbs trembled as icy wind slithered through the alley, curling around me like invisible fingers. The rough, damp bricks scraped against my palm as I leaned heavily against the wall, the chill seeping through my skin and settling deep into my bones.
Each breath came out ragged and visible, fogging in the stale, sour air that smelled of oil and rot.
My legs wobbled beneath me, barely holding my weight. I felt like I was made of glass—fragile and cracking.
"Where am I?" I gasped, voice barely more than a whisper.
"What happened to me?"
The alley swallowed my words, leaving only the sound of dripping water and my own ragged breathing.
The air kissed my skin like ice, and I could feel every inch of it: the bare curve of my thighs, the vulnerable slope of my chest, the artificial pulse beneath skin.
Goosebumps rose, sharp and instinctual, but they didn't comfort me. They just reminded me I was still here. Still exposed. Still… wrong.
"Clothes… I need clothes," I whispered, teeth chattering.
"Something to keep me warm… anything."
Anything to cover this skin, trembling from the cold, and the shame of being exposed.
"Please… just something." Even now, I couldn't stop touching myself—not in that way, but just checking.
Pressing fingers into my arms, tracing the curve of my hip, pulling at the waistband like maybe, if I searched hard enough, I'd find something familiar underneath—something that hadn't been erased.
"Where's the scar from my bike crash? The one on my elbow," I muttered, voice hollow. "It's gone."
I wasn't merely exposed. I was utterly unrecognizable.
I stared down at my trembling hands. My breath fogged the air like a ghost trying to leave my lungs.
"If I stay here... I'll die."
The cold is deadly enough to stop a small animal's heart. My limbs were already starting to fail.
So I moved.
✦ ✦ ✦
I hadn't made it far—just a few feet, really.
Limping forward, barefoot and shivering, I hugged myself tighter. Every step felt like it took a piece of me with it.
"C-cold... it's so cold..." I breathed, my voice shaking like my knees.
I stumbled, caught myself on the wall. "Don't stop... can't stop," I mumbled, barely above a whisper. "J-just… k-keep walking."
The alley buzzed faintly—too quiet to be music, too irregular to be normal. I glanced up, just once, and caught a flicker of motion in the corner of my eye.
An advertising screen blinked to life on the far wall, coughing static between frames. Its image glitched and stuttered—first showing a smiling couple, arms wrapped around each other like they were in love.
But something about them felt… off. Too perfect. Their movements looped too smoothly. Their eyes didn't blink.
They looked like people—only… not.
Their smiles were too perfect, frozen in place. Their movements looped like a broken record. Their eyes didn't blink.
Something about them was wrong.
They weren't alive.
"Who… what are they?" I whispered, voice shaking.
Then the screen flashed, glitching hard, before cutting to black.
A blank white logo pulsed in the center — the sleek, angular emblem of CHI Corp.
Beneath it, a single phrase appeared in clean, glowing text:
"OBEDIENCE IS FREEDOM. UPGRADE NOW."
Below that, smaller text faded in:
"Engineering Desire. Perfecting Perception."
I stared at the floating letters, eyes wide and blinking too fast.
"What… what is this?" I whispered, voice shaky.
The words hung in the air—no screen, no paper, just glowing shapes floating there.
I reached out, fingers trembling, but there was nothing to touch.
"Is this some kind of trick?" I muttered.
I didn't have time to understand—couldn't afford to—because the cold was already clawing at my skin, stealing what little warmth I had left.
The buzz of static still echoed behind me, faint and empty.
I continued forward, walking through puddles that only made the cold worse. Each step sent a new sting crawling up my legs, until even the pain began to fade.
My skin was going numb.
The puddles soaked into my feet like icewater.
They squished between my toes, sticky and sharp at the same time.
My ankles ached from walking wrong, like my joints didn't know how to move anymore.
God, it's so cold.
Can't think straight.
My mind keeps jumping—between freezing to death out here, and… them.
"Come on, think… Mom… Dad…My cute little sister… what were their names?" I slammed my palm harder against the brick. The names floated just out of reach, blurred and fading like a half-remembered dream.
"What were their names again?" I whispered, throat tightening.
I squeezed my eyes shut, digging into the dark for something—anything—willing the memories to come back, but all I got was silence.
"I have to remember… I have to…"
"You're still in there. You have to be."
I can still hear them, though. Faint. Like I'm underwater.
"Ponderu, thank you," Mom would say softly, her voice tired but full of warmth.
"Couldn't have done this without you, Ponderu," Dad said one night, clapping a heavy hand on my shoulder.
Their voices thanking me, trusting me to keep them together.
And my little sister, her small voice soft and hopeful:
"Ponderu, can you sing me a song?"
Her laughter in the dark—like a fragile light I tried so hard to protect.
But the names? Gone.
Like someone ripped them out and left the rest to rot.
I did everything for my parents—paid their bills, carried their burdens. It wasn't a choice. It just was. Like breathing, like waking up each morning without question.
It was the only thing I knew how to do.
There was nothing else waiting for me beyond it—no dreams, no plans. Just endless work, no breaks, no mercy.
Still, I told myself that once high school ended, I'd finally be free.
Finally able to breathe. Finally able to live.
But now... here I am.
Naked. Cold. Shivering.
If I could turn back time, I'd take that burden again without hesitation. I'd clutch it close, desperate for the sense of purpose it gave me.
Anything—anything—to feel something real again. A tight knot formed in my throat, twisting tighter with every breath.
My eyes burned fiercely, stinging with tears I refused to shed.
I clenched my teeth and swallowed hard, but the tears came anyway, tracing paths down my cheeks as if they had a will of their own. I didn't want to cry—not here, not now.
But I didn't know who I was anymore. Nothing made sense anymore. The only thing I could hold onto was this one desperate truth:
"I… I don't want to die," I whispered, voice hitching. The words trembled out, fragile and raw, swallowed quickly by the cold silence around me.
Then—
A sudden gust of wind rattled the trash and crumpled wrappers of strange snacks scattered across the alley, sending a soft clatter echoing off the damp walls.
I flinched, eyes darting upward just as a flicker of red neon caught my attention. A battered sign hung above a side door: Roader's.
Maybe it was a club. Maybe a bar.
But more than that—maybe it was just somewhere not freezing.
"Please," I whispered to myself, voice barely audible in the cold air, "somewhere warm... anywhere but this."
Hoping for warmth. Answers. Hell, maybe even a voice—anything to remind me I was still alive.
But before I could reach the door, something else caught my eye— a beat-up metal shopping cart shoved into the corner, its wheels locked by grime.
It was slumped with scraps of women's underwear—too small to cover anything important and bras spilling over the edges, fluttering like forgotten flags in the stale breeze.
I'm hoping this is some kind of clothing store—maybe there's something to cover me up inside.
Every step feels fragile, like the soft flesh of my body could shatter beneath me. My skin prickles, goosebumps rising as the cold gnaws deeper. I wrap my arms around myself, desperate to hold onto any warmth left.
I glanced up from the locker and saw her: a girl standing by the entrance, frozen mid-step, her stiletto heel caught in the air like she'd been stopped suddenly. She looked almost like a statue—cold and still.
"Welcome master. Welcom master. Welcomemaster—"
The busted voice looped endlessly, like some broken song stuck on repeat. I felt bad for her.
"Hey... are you okay? Can you move?"
She didn't respond, didn't even blink. Her eyes stared blankly ahead. I noticed strange lines running along her arms and neck—like seams or panels—but I didn't understand what they meant. She looked human enough.
I reached out a hand to her, but the moment I let go of myself, a cold wave crashed through me—like I was giving away the little warmth I had left. My arms, wrapped tight around myself for comfort, suddenly felt empty. The chill crept deeper into my bones.
I swallowed hard, stepping back. I couldn't afford to lose more heat.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, voice breaking. "I can't stay here."
She didn't move. Didn't react. It was like she wanted to die out here.
My hand hovered over the handle. The building loomed in silence, dark and half-swallowed by the city's flickering neon. Something about it felt… wrong. But I didn't have a choice.
I glanced once over my shoulder at the frozen girl, then back at the door.
A sudden gust of frigid wind cut through me, and I realized I needed something—anything—to fight off the cold.
I had to leave her behind. My heart felt like stone. Shivering, nearly naked, desperate… I pushed the door open.
And then, with a breath I hadn't realized I was holding—
I stepped inside.
[ End of Chapter One — Part One ]