Seoul Prime's fertility assessment complex rose like a monolith over the smog-choked city. A hundred stories of glass and steel, its skin gleaming with shifting holograms. Corporate slogans scrolled endlessly across its surface, each phrase a commandment burned into the minds of every citizen:
"Fertility is Futurity.""Every seed counts."
Jinhyuk craned his neck as the line inched forward, his stomach twisting into a hard knot. The building seemed to stretch into infinity, a fortress owned by Daehan Biotech Megacorp, the most powerful of the megacities' rulers. To step inside was to have your future carved into numbers and categories. To fail meant to be discarded.
He was eighteen today, and like every eighteen-year-old in Seoul Prime, he had no choice.
The line ahead of him was endless: hundreds of nervous young men and women, clutching temporary ID cards while surveillance drones hovered overhead. The drones swept beams of blue light across faces and retinas, confirming identities, nudging people into place like cattle with their metallic voices.
"Step forward. Maintain formation. No speaking."
Jinhyuk was at the very end of the queue. He liked it that way. The less people noticed him, the better. He kept his face blank, expression locked into the practiced stone mask he had worn since childhood. Nerves churned beneath the surface, but he let nothing show.
A boy ahead of him whispered to the girl beside him. "They say if you're B-rank or higher, recruiters grab you on the spot. Contracts, stipends, even apartments."
The girl giggled nervously, brushing her hair behind her ear. "And if you're D or F?"
The boy's smirk faded. "You don't want to know."
Jinhyuk already knew. Everyone did. Low ranks meant administrative work, courier jobs, or—worst of all—life in the labor blocks. No family contracts. No future. Just gray uniforms and thankless survival.
The massive double doors of the complex slid open with a hiss. A rush of cold, sterile air swept out, washing over the line of teenagers. The smell was sharp, antiseptic, like a hospital that had never known the touch of blood or dirt.
One by one, the line moved forward.
Inside, the world became nothing but white walls, steel floors, and the constant hum of machinery. Bright light panels glared down, erasing every shadow, bleaching skin until everyone looked equally pale.
A wall of drones hovered in formation. Their lenses glowed red as they scanned the recruits. A single command boomed from the speakers above:
"Strip. Deposit clothing in the sterilization bins. Proceed forward."
The line faltered. Embarrassed glances darted between boys and girls, but the security drones buzzed menacingly closer.
Jinhyuk sighed. There was no point resisting. He tugged off his shirt, folded his pants, and dropped them into the waiting metal bin. The bin hissed shut, sucking his belongings away for disinfection. Now he stood naked, the chill air prickling against his skin.
All around him, the same scene repeated—rows of naked bodies, some athletic, some soft, all exposed under merciless light. Every flaw was visible. A girl ahead of him hunched her shoulders to hide small breasts. A boy two places down tried to cover his limp cock with his hands until a drone zapped him with a warning spark.
Jinhyuk did nothing to cover himself. He wasn't ashamed of his body. He couldn't be. His mutation had left him tall, broad-shouldered, with stamina that made him endure longer than his peers in training drills. And between his legs—well, he had long since grown used to whispers about the heavy length that swung when he walked.
Today, though, it wasn't admiration in the glances that landed on him. It was something sharper.
Whispers rippled down the line. "Look at that thing… freak.""Bet he thinks that's enough to pass.""Pathetic. Just a cock on legs."
Jinhyuk clenched his jaw and stepped into the transparent corridor. The glass walls closed in around them, sealing the recruits in a single-file march. Each step echoed on the steel beneath their bare feet, amplified until the sound of their own shame filled the air.
The corridor ended at a vast chamber—an open floor lined with glowing grids. Red laser lines formed cages of light, scanning from ceiling to floor. Drones positioned themselves overhead, each projecting holographic displays.
The AI voice that governed the hall was flat, sexless, mechanical.
"Proceed. Stand on the marker. Remain still during evaluation."
One by one, the recruits stepped into the grids.
A boy went first. The lasers swept his body, and numbers bloomed above him.
[Subject: Park Jisoo. Age: 18. Mutation detected: Enhanced pulmonary capacity. Fertility Index: 2. Overall Assessment: Rank B.]
Gasps of envy filled the hall. The boy grinned, strutting as the system dispensed a crisp blue uniform.
Next, a girl.
[Subject: Han Mina. Age: 18. Mutation: Ovarian resilience. Fertility Index: 4. Overall Assessment: Rank A.]
The hall buzzed with excitement. Recruiters in white coats scribbled notes from the observation deck above. Mina flushed with pride as she was handed a silver-trimmed uniform.
The line moved forward. Each scan was a public judgment, read aloud for all to hear. Some kids wept with joy, others with despair. When a boy was declared D-rank, snickers followed him until he pulled on his brown uniform with trembling hands.
Then it was Jinhyuk's turn.
He stepped into the laser grid. The light bathed his body in crimson lines. Every inch of him was mapped, measured, categorized. He stood still, expression blank, as the holographic data appeared.
The AI voice intoned:
[Subject: Kim Jinhyuk. Age: 18. Mutation detected: Minor stamina enhancement.][Secondary Trait: Semen volume — abnormal surplus.][Fertility Index: Zero.][Overall Assessment: Rank F.]
The words hung in the sterile air like a death sentence.
Silence—then the laughter started.
A boy behind him snorted. "Big cock, no bullets."A girl muttered just loud enough for others to hear: "What a waste of meat."Snickers rippled outward, cruel and mocking.
Jinhyuk's jaw tightened. His fists curled at his sides, but he didn't flinch, didn't speak. The AI's voice had sealed his fate. To protest would be pointless.
The drones shifted, and a gray bundle dropped into his hands. His uniform. His future.
The Gray
The hall filled with the rustle of fabric as recruits slipped into their new identities.
S-rank: gleaming white with gold trim.A-rank: white with silver.B-rank: crisp blue.C-rank: faded green.D-rank: dull brown.And then, at the very bottom, Jinhyuk's uniform: lifeless gray, stamped across the chest with a single word: FAILED.
He pulled it on, the fabric scratchy, ill-fitting. Around his neck, the drone clipped a thin metal tag. Cold against his skin, heavier than steel, engraved with the same word.
The chatter in the hall rose as the ranks sorted themselves. Proud laughter from A- and B-ranks. Whispered gossip about who would be courted by which guild. Recruiters in glass booths tapped notes on their tablets. No one spared a glance for the gray-clad figures.
Jinhyuk stood alone at the edge of the crowd, his shoulders rigid, his eyes fixed forward.
The batch was dismissed. The recruits streamed out through side doors, their voices filling the sterile halls:
"Did you see my stats? I'm C-rank, at least I'll get a breeding contract.""Shit, A-rank? You're set for life.""Better than ending up like those Fs. Waste of oxygen."
Jinhyuk walked last. Each step echoed in the emptiness behind him. The cold tag thumped against his chest with every breath.
The words replayed in his skull:
Fertility Index: Zero.Overall Assessment: Rank F.
His life, reduced to numbers. His future, already written.
And yet…
He lifted his chin. His jaw set. The city might have labeled him sterile, a failure, a waste. But Jinhyuk felt the truth like a pulse in his veins, a heaviness in his loins that no AI could quantify.
They told him he was sterile, a failure, an F-rank.But the world had no idea what his seed could really do.