Misa stood in silence, her eyes fixed on the glass window.
Behind it, rows of young men were strapped to cold, metallic chairs, tubes and wires connecting them to the cruel yet efficient machines that drained their semen. The steady hum of extraction echoed like a nightmare lullaby.
Her chest tightened. If I hadn't acted in time…
A chill ran through her spine as the thought formed. Ren… my darling boy… could have been in there. Trapped. Milked like an animal.
"Misa?"
She turned her head slightly. One of her colleagues had walked up beside her, her face pale as she looked through the glass.
"It isn't a pleasant sight, is it?" the woman asked quietly.
Misa's gaze lingered on the machines, then shifted to her colleague. In that instant, she recognized it—this woman was a mother. One of the lucky ones. Someone who had given birth to a boy.
"No," Misa said, her voice firm but heavy. "It isn't."
