The girl's voice cut through the silence, steady despite the rasp of youth.
"We don't know either," she said. No hesitation, no false comfort, just the plain truth. Then, almost immediately, her tone sharpened, direct.
"What's your name?"
The question struck him harder than he expected. His name. His real name belonged to a body that no longer existed, on a world impossibly far away.
This frail, starved shell he now inhabited... he didn't even know what it had been called.
For a heartbeat, his mind raced.
'If I tell them the truth, it makes no difference. If I stay silent, it draws suspicion. A name… I need a name.'
He steadied his breath.
"…Grimm," he said at last.
It wasn't this body's name. It wasn't anyone's name here, as far as he knew. It was the first thing that came to him.
The girl tilted her head, faintly outlined by the fire's glow. "Grimm," she repeated, rolling the syllables like she was testing the weight of it.
"Strange name."
He offered no defense, only stared back at her shadowed face.
"I'm Lian," she said finally. And as she spoke, something shifted.
The other children leaned slightly toward her, like gravity itself pulled them. Even here, in this pit of fear and hunger, she carried presence of authority.
Her next words were deliberate.
"Do you want to join us?"
His breath hitched. A group. The idea was both relief and risk.
'In this place, betrayal means nothing. They have nothing to gain by it, not yet. Unity is survival. She's clever… clever enough to gather the children, to command them. She understands power.'
He hesitated only a moment longer before answering, "…Yes."
The torch cracked softly between them. The faintest nod passed from her silhouette.
Grimm stepped closer, the dim torchlight spilling faintly over the girl's face. For the first time, he could actually see her features instead of just her shadow.
Her skin was pale and smooth, almost porcelain-like, though the darkness made it hard to tell if it was real or just an illusion of the flickering flame.
Her eyes were long and slightly downturned, giving her a calm, unreadable expression. The shadows under them made her gaze look deeper, more mature than it should at her age.
Her brows were straight and full, set low, giving her face a sharp edge. Her nose was slim and even, blending smoothly into the rest of her face.
Long, dark hair framed her face and spilled down her shoulders, silky even in the poor light, and she carried herself with a steadiness that drew attention whether she wanted it or not.
Grimm studied her quietly. She wasn't just pretty; there was a kind of presence about her that pulled others in. And yet, he noticed, she wasn't using her looks to lead.
The authority she had came from something deeper... her voice, her decisiveness, her way of standing as if the others naturally fell in behind her.
'Her features… is asian? At least by Earth standards. Am I being racist for even thinking that? No, maybe I'm just overthinking. Still, it's strange seeing someone who looks like this here… in this place. Does it mean this could be an alternate universe of earth? If it's true then maybe I'm currently at eastern side of the world.'
He glanced at the children hovering around her, loyal and wary at the same time.
'Impressive. To gather them this early, in conditions like these, and to hold that kind of grip without forcing it… she's more dangerous than her age suggests.'
Grimm's lips pressed into a thin line. He was impressed. And that, to him, was far more unsettling.
'She's quite dangerous to think like this in such a short time,' Grimm thought, his eyes narrowing faintly.
He shifted his gaze to the others gathered near her.
The first boy looked thin, almost fragile, with a face still round from youth.
His hair was messy, unevenly cut as if hacked with a dull blade, and his wide eyes darted around nervously, never resting in one place.
His lips were dry, cracked, and he hugged his knees close, trying to make himself small.
The second boy stood straighter, a little taller than the rest, though his frame was just as starved. His features were sharper, jaw already beginning to define.
His hair was short, sticking up in places, and his gaze was steady, focused on Grimm with suspicion. Unlike the first boy, he looked like he could endure hardship in silence.
The other girl was small, maybe the youngest of them, her limbs frail and thin like twigs. Her hair was long but tangled, falling into her face, and her expression seemed dull, almost empty as if she had already accepted their situation.
Grimm studied them quietly.
Lian turned her eyes on him, steady and measuring. For a moment, she said nothing, only observed.
'He looks dead… his hair is black, hanging uneven like it hasn't been cut in months. His eyes... deep black, sunken, with heavy bags under them. He's thin, almost fragile, but still standing. Strange.'
After that brief thought, her expression softened into a small smile. She gestured lightly toward the others.
"This one," she said, nodding at the taller boy, "is Xiao." Then to the smaller, nervous boy, "That's Fan." Finally, she shifted her shoulder a little, glancing at the quiet girl clinging close behind her. "And the little lady here is Ying."
Grimm blinked, filing the names away.
"Xiao, Fan, Ying… all of them sound Asian. My name… it sticks out like a sore thumb here.
...
They moved together, torches in hand, the dim flames swaying as their footsteps echoed through the stone corridors.
The children stayed close, shoulders nearly brushing, each one careful not to drift too far from the group.
The silence between them was heavy, broken only by the scrape of feet and the faint crackle of fire.
In the distance, faint glows flickered—other torches. Shapes of light, far ahead, hinting at more people. The thought was both reassuring and unsettling.
Soon, the tunnel widened into a broad chamber lit by dozens of torches mounted along the walls.
Shadows danced across the uneven stone, revealing rows upon rows of children scattered about.
Some huddled in groups, some sat alone against the walls, all of them thin and pale, faces hollowed by hunger and fear.
Lian's steps didn't falter. She lifted her chin slightly, her voice steady as she began giving out quiet orders.
"Stay close. Don't look weak. Walk straight, heads up. If someone tries to take your torch, hold it firm. And whatever happens, don't run."
Her tone carried authority... not loud, but sharp enough to cut through the murmurs and shuffling of the crowd.
The others around Grimm followed her lead without question, and for a moment he found himself wondering, 'How did she manage to gather them so easily?'
The chamber was vast, but under her guidance, their small group didn't feel lost in it.
Grimm's gaze swept over the chamber, torchlight flickering against pale faces.
The children were scattered across the space, some sitting with knees hugged to their chests, others whispering in nervous clusters.
His eyes narrowed slightly as he counted in his head, step by step. At least two hundred… maybe more.
He felt a dull chill settle in his stomach. That number was too large for anything good.
Lian glanced sideways at him, her expression unreadable in the uneven light.
"What do you think?" she asked, voice calm but edged with curiosity.
Grimm shifted his torch, letting the flame throw longer shadows across his thin features.
'Soon enough, these numbers will shrink,' he thought grimly.
'The kidnappers… they're probably planning to raise only the ones who can endure. Survivability... that's the only thing they care about.'
He voiced it simply, his tone flat but steady. "These numbers won't last. They'll cut us down until only the strong are left."
For a brief moment, silence lingered between them, then Lian's lips curved faintly.
"You're quite perceptive," she said, not as praise, but as acknowledgment.
Her eyes lingered on him for a second longer, as though weighing his worth, before turning back to scan the sea of children.
Grimm clenched his fingers tighter around the torch. Even though he was mentally older this girl give him creeps.