The door creaked open with a reluctant groan, and stale air rushed out like breath from a long-dead throat.
It closed behind me with a creak, shutting out the harsher cold.
The air was thick—stale, heavy—with a sharp smell that reminded me of burnt rubber mixed with something sour I couldn't place.
It was barely warmer inside—just a whisper above the biting cold outside. Still freezing.
"N-N… no… n-no," I muttered, my teeth clacking so hard I could barely shape the words. "I-I… i-it's… n-not e-enough. N-n-not enough h-heat t-t-to s-save m-me. I-I'm… s-s-still g-gonna f-freeze— I'll… I'll d-d-die. D-definitely d-die."
A shiver ran through me, and I hugged myself tighter.
"I… I n-need t-to f-find h-heat. A-anyth-thing."
I kept walking. The hallway stretched on, broken tiles clicking under my bare feet. Up ahead, something flickered.
The lights were stronger here, glowing from tangled wires strung across the ceiling—purple, blue, and green, pulsing like some artificial heartbeat. They bathed the space in a dreamy, shifting haze that spilled across the floor and walls.
And in that haze—shadows.
Tall, strange silhouettes stretched and twisted through the colored light, their outlines warping as the glow shifted. For a second, I couldn't tell if they were real or just tricks of the color.
Figures.
Still. Unmoving
People?
My heart leapt before my brain could catch up. Maybe they could help me. Maybe I wasn't alone.
I started moving faster, almost stumbling as I rushed forward.
The colors shimmered on the walls, curling around corners like they were leading me somewhere.
I didn't question it. I just followed the human looking shadows.
"H-H… hello…?" I called out, voice cracking.
But no one called back.
Did they not hear me? My voice was quieter than I expected—thin, breathy. This body… it makes me sound so small.
"P-please!" I shouted, the word breaking apart as my voice cracked, echoing out harsher and louder than I meant.
It took a lot more effort than my previous body, this body wasn't made for shouting like that.
"I-If… if a-anyone c-can h-hear m-me… I… I n-need h-help. I-I d-don't… d-don't kn-know wh-where I am!"
Something shifted along the shadowed wall, the dim outlines cast on the surface, I caught the sudden snap of heads turning.
They heard me?.
A flicker of hope cut through the cold.
There shadows were stiff as statues—but I didn't care. Anyone in this kind of cold would be frozen solid; their stiffness meant nothing to me.
I stepped closer, leaving the corridor's edge for the wider room, my hand braced against the wall as each step felt heavier, muscles rigid and trembling from the cold. My voice broke as I called out again.
"P-please… I… I-I'm h-here..," I whispered, my voice trembling, fading out like it might break apart any second.
I lifted my eyes—and froze.. Ahead of me… people? Maybe. But they weren't moving. Not really. They stood perfectly still, like they'd fallen asleep upright. A few twitched—just barely—but most… most were rigid, pinned in place on a stage-like platform, their bodies bound to poles, rotating slowly like some twisted merry-go-round. My stomach turned. Nothing about this made sense. It was wrong… impossibly wrong.
A chill ran down my spine. My breath hitched, and my skin prickled as an uneasy weight settled in my chest.
"H-H-Hello… I… I'm sorry to bother you, but… I… I don't know where I am. C-could someone… please help me?"
They just stood there, silent—almost as if they didn't care—still and lifeless, like toys abandoned mid-play.
Too still. Too perfect.
But still, I tried. No—I begged.
I took a shaky step forward. "I-I… I w-was k-kidnapped… I… I think— I th-think s-s-something's wrong w-with me…"
They just stood there, ignoring me completely, as if my presence didn't matter.
"P-p-please… s-someone… p-please… t-talk to me…"
Panic bubbled up inside me. Talking to them was like screaming into an empty room.
Then—
Their eyes began to blink, slowly tracking my movements. The cold, mechanical chant began:
"Welcome, master. Welcome, master. Welcome, master—"
The words looped endlessly, chilling and relentless. There was something deeply unnatural about them. It was the same chant I'd heard from the girl outside.
"P-p-please… h-help me… d-d-don't… d-don't ignore me… I-I-I'm f-f-freezing… p-please… d-don't let me d-d-die…"
Was this karma for leaving her behind? What was I supposed to do? She didn't get up, and I could barely lift myself… so why are they mocking me?
All around me, the same cold chant echoed over and over, relentless and empty.
"Welcome, master. Welcome, master. Welcome, master—"
"I-I… I'm… s-s-sorry… I c-couldn't… I w-wasn't strong enough…"
Somewhere behind it all, a techno remix crackled through busted speakers, twisting old love songs into something eerie and hollow. It sounded like a love song being chewed alive by a machine.
I didn't know what this place was.
A store? A club? A cage?
Whatever it used to be, it didn't feel alive anymore. It felt empty—like something once meant to bring joy or pleasure had been drained dry, worn down, and abandoned to rot.
The lights still blinked like they were trying to sell a dream, but there was no life left behind them—just static smiles and empty eyes. Everything here felt hollow, like a party that ended years ago but the music never stopped playing.
"I-I'm s-sorry… I'm sorry… I'm s-sorry…" I whispered to myself, voice barely audible.
I was standing in the middle of it—bare, freezing, and more alone than I'd ever felt in my life.
"Welcome, master. Welcome, master. Welcome, master—"
"I-I-I'm s-s-sorry! P-p-please… s-stop! S-stop mocking me!"
Why are they staring… why won't they move…? I'm going to… I'm going to—
"W-welcome… m-master… W-w-welcome—"
I can't… I can't take it… the cold… it's everywhere… crushing me…
"Welcome, master. Welc-
Be quiet. Just stop.
"Welcome, master. Welcome, master. Welcome, master—"
I felt it in my bones—there was no help here. My hope died a little more the I heard them.
"Welcome, master. Welcome, master.—"
My body started trembling uncontrollably, a cold shaking that wracked every bone.
"Welcome, master. Welcone—"
"Sh-shut… u-up!" I screamed, teeth chattering, voice breaking as the tremors racked me.
The pink buds on my chest had gone white and pale, hard and stinging in a way that cut through the numbness.
"Welcome, master. Welcome, master"
"Sh… sh-shut… u-up…! Sh-shut… up! SHUT UP!" I screamed even louder, my hands moving from hugging myself to clutching my barely-functioning head. My arms trembled as I flexed the little muscle this body had, before finally letting out a soft, defeated "oof…"
"Welcome, master… Welcom—"
I hit the floor, dropping like a lifeless doll.
"It's… so damn cold. Cold, cold… s-so cold. I'm… I'm going to die. I… I c-can't hold myself up anymore."
The chant went on, but it felt like it was fading through me, like I couldn't even hear them anymore.
"M… m-maybe… maybe it'd be easier… if I j-just… s-stopped?" I whispered, breath fogging in the air, each word trembling, like I couldn't decide if I wanted to let the cold take me or fight.
The thought pressed down on me, quiet and heavy, curling around my limbs like frost.
Mom… Dad… their faces were already fading, melting into the frost.
The more I gave in, the less I could see them.
"J-just… lie still… and—"
No! That's stupid… what am I even thinking? Get up, body… come on… get up one more time.
"G-g-get the h-hell… u-up!" I screamed to myself, body trembling.
And suddenly—her face was there.
Clear. Bright.
My sister.
The one thing the frost hadn't stolen yet.
I remembered that day at the arcade, her voice ringing in my ears as I lost again to that stupid claw machine.
"Don't give up, Ponderu. If anyone can do it, it's you, Oni-chan."
She said it with that fierce confidence only she had—like she truly believed in me, even when I didn't.
And then that night, I told her I'd probably have to move away for college after high school—that everything was changing, and nothing would ever be the same again.
She grabbed my arm, eyes wide, voice trembling as she begged, "Don't you dare leave me behind, Ponderu." She wanted to come with me. I wanted that too. But it was impossible.
Her words echoed inside me now, a lifeline in the freezing dark.
I could almost feel her arms around me, warm against the cold.
I clung to that, to her, to the fight inside me.
"I won't let you fade," I choked out, clutching my head like I could force her image to stay.
I clung to her in my mind, as if letting go would mean dying —because maybe it did.
"I'll get b‑back… I swear…"
"Y‑your big brother is going to find you."
The frost clung tighter to my skin, but I forced the words out, as if speaking them could keep me tethered.
"G-g-get the h-hell… u-up!" I screamed to myself again.
One of the last things she said to me, just before everything fell apart, was—
"You'll really sing to me when you get back today, right? Don't forget, Ponderu. Don't you dare forget."
Her voice feels like the only thing keeping me from slipping away.
"S-s-sister… I… I need to find her… I can't die here… not yet."
"G-get up! Now!" I forced the words out, shaky but growing stronger, and slowly pushed myself to my feet.
Before I knew it, the chants stopped completely, and those things seemed to return to whatever sleeping state they were in—I could only hope. I began to walk away from them, letting spikes of chills run up my spine, angling them toward my chest to try to jolt some warmth into my heart—like kickstarting an old, beat-up car.
I didn't know if it would work… maybe it was silly—but I had to try.
All around me, neon signs blinked and buzzed in a dozen languages I couldn't read. They lit the walls with shifting colors—pink, blue, acid green—each one screaming some kind of promise. Love? Sex? A "firmware upgrade," whatever that meant.
Even with all the blinking lights, the place still felt dark.
I sucked in a shuddering breath, and a sharp scent cut through the numbness—burnt plastic, something hot… something maybe even warm. It hit me like a spark in the freezing dark, a flicker of life against the ice crawling over my skin.
My eyes flicked to the cluttered room beyond the glowing lights. The stale air smelled of sweat and hot plastic, thick enough to taste.
I had to reach the source of the smell.
My fingers brushed against the edge of a backstage curtain. Cool and slightly sticky. I hesitated—just for a second—then pulled it aside.
The stench hit me like a wall. Sweat, oil, melted plastic—an overwhelming mix of odors so thick and rancid I'd never choose to breathe them in. It was disgusting. Suffocating.
I hated it.
But I didn't back away.
I'd bear it—if it meant even a shred of warmth.
But what I stepped into wasn't what I'd imagined.
I stumbled into a cramped backstage room piled high with junked, bodies—most nude, draped in torn fishnets, silicone limbs twisted unnaturally, eyes wide open but seeing nothing. The air reeked of old perfume, coolant leaks, and something burnt beneath the surface—like plastic left too close to a heater.
"W-what the… hell…?" I muttered, eyes scanning the pile. There was no blood, no signs of life… these had to be some kind of mannequins, or… something like that.
One lay slumped with its legs spread, a strange, blinking appendage jutting from its groin—hard and alien, pulsing faintly in the dim light.
But the air around them was warmer—thicker somehow, almost alive. That heat was pulling me in, drawing me closer, despite the unease twisting in my gut.
They weren't just cold, lifeless forms. They were radiating something—something I needed.
I couldn't turn away of their warmth. It wasn't the warmth I wanted—but it was better than nothing.
I hovered near the heap of overheated bodies.
That faint heat stirred something deep inside me. though the cold still gnawed at my skin.
The air hung thick and heavy, laden with the sharp tang of burnt plastic and the sour sting of stale fragrances. Every inhale tasted metallic and wrong, burning my throat with its harsh sting.
But I could almost cry from the feeling—so desperate, so raw—this fragile warmth that felt like a whisper of life in the frozen silence.
Hope, clawed its way into my mind, distracting me from the darkness creeping at the edges of my vision.
The silence around me was suffocating—broken only by the faint hum of dying circuits and the irregular crackle of overheated parts struggling to stay alive.
In this cold, shattered place, it was the only thing that felt close to comfort. Not true comfort—not really—but it kept the cold from biting into my skin.
My skin prickled, goosebumps rising despite the heat. My teeth clenched, jaw tight, heart pounding in a frantic rhythm I barely recognized.
I was scared—deep down, truly scared of the bodies piled around me, of what they might mean, of the cold that still gnawed at my bones.
But my body was even more afraid, trembling uncontrollably like a child lost in a dark, merciless world.
Fear flooded my muscles, sharper and louder than the panic in my mind, warning me in a language I barely understood.
But the warmth—faint, broken, and pulsing—was too powerful to turn away from.
It held me there, trapped between horror and the desperate need to survive.
✦ ✦ ✦
I don't know how long I sat like that. Minutes? Longer? The cold blurred time, dulled everything except the ache in my limbs and the pounding in my skull.
But slowly… it started to change.
Feeling crept back into my limbs—first a prickling burn, then a dull ache. My fingers flexed stiffly. My breath no longer came in shallow gasps.
Color returned to my skin, blotchy and raw, but alive.
I shifted slightly, trying to gather my bearings.
I kept my gaze low, deliberately avoiding the uncanny stillness of their half-nude forms.
"This place… it's a nightmare," I murmured, voice barely steady.
That's when my eyes caught something—a battered locker, lying on its back, its chipped paint barely hiding a faded stencil that read: "Uniforms & Gear."
My heart jumped.
"Clothes? W-warm clothes?" I whispered to myself.
I wanted to run to it—to find whatever was inside—but the moment I pushed myself up, the cold slammed into me all at once, sharp and biting after the warmth I'd just found.
My skin tingled, a sharp bite creeping beneath the surface as the cold reminded me it wasn't gone, warning me to stay still.
But I couldn't stay—not when there might be clothes inside. Clothes to cover me… to stop me from being nearly naked.
Clenching my teeth against the sting, I forced my legs forward, staggering through the chill that sliced into every inch of me, toward the locker.
I grabbed the handle, my fingers slipping on the cold metal. I dug my nails in and pulled with everything I had, muscles straining, but the door didn't even twitch.
"C-come on… g-ggrr…" I muttered through gritted teeth.
It was stuck—locked tight like it was daring me to get inside.
My nipples, which had finally started to turn pink again, were now prickling, every nerve suddenly screaming from the cold once more.
"Open… damn it!" I grunted, my voice cracking, every word trembling with cold and effort.
I swallowed hard, trying to steady myself, but the frustration gnawed at me.
This wasn't going to open. Not like this.
With a bitter, foggy sigh, I turned back to the bodies—their faint warmth the only comfort I had left.
I edged closer, trying to steady my shaking limbs, desperate to press against whatever warmth I could find from the mannequin bodies.
Then—
I stumbled slightly, brushing past one of the broken figures, and that's when a cold, bent pipe—standing unnoticed in the shadows of a corner—tumbled to the floor with a clatter beside me.
The sharp noise echoed in the silence, like a lifeline thrown into the darkness.
So loud was the sound that it set off the cold, mechanical chant from the other room:
"Welcome, master. Welcome, master. Welcome, master—"
I froze, heart pounding, but ignored the chanting from the other room.
My eyes were on the pipe
The pipe bit into my skin like ice, its end crushed flat, perfect for slipping into the locker's crack.
I crawled toward it, teeth clenched against the sting of freezing air, and wrapped my fingers tight around the metal. It was cold and unforgiving, but the only tool I had.
Gripping it felt like holding onto hope itself.
"Maybe… maybe with this I can get those clothes," I muttered.
I needed to try again. To force that locker open.
I got up this time leaning on the pipe to pick me up like a cane,
The rough metal bit into my palms, sending sharp jolts of cold up my fingers, but if I could get it open… maybe I'd finally feel some real warmth.
My arms trembled slightly as I twisted and pulled, relying only on the strength in my biceps and forearms.
The chill crept deeper into my skin, mixing with the sting from where the metal scraped against my raw palms.
"D-damn… this locker… it won't budge…" My breath hitched in frustration as I tried again, arms burning but still no progress. The locker stayed stubbornly shut, mocking my weak grip.
I realized twisting with my arms alone wasn't going to be enough. To get any real leverage, I had to use my whole body.
So, gritting my teeth, I pressed my small, bare frame flat against the pipe, the cold metal biting sharply between my legs where it pressed against the thin fabric of my spats.
The chill sank straight into my skin, pressing against my groin and making my breath hitch.
"This… this is impossible…" I muttered, shivering violently.
The fabric offered no warmth, just a thin, stretched layer that made every shift of pressure sharper, more intense.
My hips twitched slightly as I adjusted, the pipe digging in just enough to make me shiver. Like riding a horse or something, but it felt indecent.
I pressed my weight against the pipe, moving in slow, steady pulses—pressing down and shifting just enough to keep the pressure constant.
My hands gripped the length of the pipe in front of me, trying to steady myself as I rocked up and down.
"Ugh… come on… come on…" I groaned, each movement sent a jolt of cold through my core, the metal biting deeper between my legs. The friction wasn't much, but the repetition made it worse—sharper.
My legs tensed, trembling from the cold and the strain, the sensitive tips of my chest aching from the relentless chill, every breath fogging faintly in front of me as I forced my body to keep going.
I bit my lip, letting out a small, ragged moan, forcing myself to focus. "C'mon… just… steady…"
It was an awkward rhythm—familiar and strange all at once—something I never thought I'd find myself doing, but desperate enough to keep at it.
Each push nudged the locker door a fraction open, inch by inch.
The cold bit into me, sharp and relentless.
I was far from the heat source of the strange, robotic bodies clustered nearby, they hummed softly, their warmth spilling out like a lifeline I couldn't reach.
I could see the faint mist of heat rising off their skin, feel the difference in the air around them… but it wasn't mine to touch. I was alone in the cold, clinging to a frozen pipe.
With every push and grind, the pipe creaked beneath me—like a nervous horse beneath its rider, muscles tight, metal groaning as I rocked it harder, trying to force it to move.
Metal scraped metal. The locker groaned.
Then—snap.
A sharp crack tore through the air. The pipe jolted beneath me, rattling against the frame as the door burst free with a violent clang.
"Ah—ugh… oh…!" I hissed through gritted teeth, my hands trembling from the sudden jolt.
I felt the vibrations travel up through the pipe and into my chest, a jarring shock that made my teeth clench.
The locker's hinges screamed, straining against the sudden shift.
The stale, metallic smell of rust and dust filled my nose, sharp and biting, as the heavy door thudded against the opposite side of the locker.
"Finally… this stupid locker gave in!"
Inside, remnants of lost nights: cracked leather appendages, shredded feather boas, piles of odd-looking long socks, a glitter skirt dulled by dust, and neon-stained jackets tossed aside.
"Can't pick… just… gotta grab it." The cold bit at me, sharp and nasty, like tiny teeth.
I grabbed the so-called clothes—if you could even call them that—and dashed back toward the huddled bodies, their silent bodies still giving off that soft, residual warmth.
I stood there shivering, trying to dress without thinking too hard about it.
First, the jacket—oversized, frayed, and stiff with someone else's history.
Then the feather boa I'd used as a scarf, shredded and smelling faintly of old perfume mixed with a strange, sharp chemical scent I couldn't place. I wrapped it tight around my face in a hurry, trying to block the cold.
The skirt was next. I grimaced as my fingers brushed against the rough fabric, stiff and coated in dust. Pulling it up felt awkward—the waistband tight and unfamiliar against my skin, the faded glitter crunching faintly with every movement.
"This is so embarrassing," I muttered, but it was the only thing to cover my lower half, so I slipped it on anyway, the scratchy material scraping softly against my legs.
At least the spats stayed on underneath. Some dignity, I guess.
Then came the stockings—ridiculous things, dark black and ripped, like those tight anime girl legwear I'd seen somewhere before.
Probably from some late-night anime my unnamed sister forced me to watch.
I don't even know what to call her anymore.
They slid up over my calves, the thin fabric clinging to my skin, but somehow they brought a little heat back to my thighs.
I bent slightly, adjusting one, tugging it higher, feeling the stretch of the material hug my legs—awkward, but strangely comforting.
For a moment, I felt a flicker of relief—like the cold was finally letting go. The layers clung to my small frame, patchy warmth soaking into chilled skin.
I wasn't just exposed bones and goosebumps anymore. Just barely, my fragile, mostly naked body was finally covered.
That's when I saw it—
Just above the curve of my outer thigh, half-hidden beneath grime and faint bruises, something clean gleamed on my skin, catching the weak light of the locker room.
The mark was laser-etched, every line crisp, every letter clinical:
/// PROJECT N4O-CHI /// Behavioral Integration Phase.
It wasn't a file. It wasn't a note.
It was part of me.
Burned into my skin like a manufacturer's mark— A label. Like I was a product.
Someone's property.
I froze, my breath catching, my chest tightening. The cold of the room pressed against me, but it wasn't the cold that made me tremble. It was the weight of the words on my own skin.
"What… Th—" And then the rest of the words died on my lips.