"My name is Serie, and I am an extremely dangerous S-class Anomaly."
"That's what they told me."
Memories echoed in Serie's mind, forcing her to open her eyes.
Her vision was blurry, as if seen through a layer of murky ice, and her body was bound.
Her wrists, ankles, and waist were firmly secured by tough composite material straps.
Her joints groaned faintly from prolonged stiffness.
At this moment, Serie was confined within the "Steel Cocoon" in the center of the laboratory. Two-finger-thick alloy plates were riveted together, and light blue condensation seeped from the seams.
Only a viewport made of blast-proof glass at the face allowed her to barely glimpse the situation outside the cocoon.
Several figures in white jumpsuits moved before her eyes, like a group of ghosts, flitting between the gleaming metal instruments.
However, being a fish on the chopping block, able to closely watch the chef's superb knife-sharpening skills, was not a cause for joy.
This torment, which had been going on for an unknown period, caused Serie's thin lips to part. Long-term dehydration had made her voice hoarse, almost indistinguishable between male and female, intertwining into a desperate echo within the highly soundproofed steel cocoon: "I'm going to die..."
The blast-proof glass fogged slightly, reflecting a pair of paint black pupils that became unfocused, as if she was lost in thought.
A few weeks ago, she was still a freshman in college.
Not exactly full of vigor, but at least she could be described as stubbornly alive.
But after registering and just ordering a steaming hot plate of mixed rice, before she even got to know her roommates, Serie closed her eyes, opened them, and found herself here.
These people called themselves the "Supernatural Anomaly Containment and Control Bureau."
As the name suggested, they were to "contain and control" "Supernatural Anomalies."
This kind of mysterious organization, seemingly only existing in urban legends, had always been an object of great interest to Serie.
Until Serie fell into their hands.
While they called them Supernatural Anomalies, they preferred to call them "Anomalys," and Serie was an S-class "Anomaly."
At least, that's what they believed.
S represented the highest danger level, meaning an extremely dangerous Anomaly.
Dangerous? Where was the danger?
Serie racked her brain but couldn't understand. How could a good young person and comrade of the new era like her, who didn't smoke or drink, abstained from gambling and drugs, and even if she cursed someone's mother online, would still respectfully say "Hello, Auntie" in real life, be dangerous?
Was the danger in being able to live a few more years, to collect a few more years of national pension?
Unfortunately, the people at the Control Bureau wouldn't listen to Serie's explanations, only saying that another Anomaly had predicted she would destroy the world.
Now they were half-skeptical, so they hoped Serie would cooperate with the investigation.
Once everything was clear, if Serie wasn't an Anomaly, they would naturally let her go and provide a generous compensation for emotional distress. But if she really was... then further research would be necessary.
To put it bluntly, she had to cooperate whether she wanted to or not.
With things said to this extent, Serie had no room to refute.
She could only internally curse the mother of the prophesying Anomaly while obediently cooperating, hoping for the truth to be revealed soon, and then happily leave this cursed place with the compensation money.
However, Serie had thought this matter too simply.
The Control Bureau only said she needed to cooperate, but they didn't say how long the investigation would take or what kind of research would be conducted.
All interpretation rights belonged to the Control Bureau, and from that day on, a series of unbearable torments followed one after another.
Regular blood draws and examinations every day, right?
It's just a few more needle pokes on the body, right? It's nothing!
Being monitored 24/7 by female employees, even during bathroom breaks and showers, right?
It's just a lack of privacy, right? It's nothing!
Constantly wearing various shackles and restraint devices like a circus animal, right?
It's just being stared at like a monster, right? That's nothing either!
As college students of the new era, having experienced various natural and man-made disasters, our main motto is to stubbornly cling to life.
But the current Cold Condensation Experiment truly gave her a sense of déjà vu, as if God was trying to torment her to death.
It was said that Anomalys would exhibit explicit behavior in extremely low-temperature conditions, so they threw Serie into a steel cocoon for "low-temperature quick-freezing."
It was like cheap pork belly bought from a discount supermarket, shoved into the fridge and frozen for half a day.
Whether this experiment could detect the Anomaly was unknown, but it was certainly close to pushing Serie's physiological limits.
Serie regretted it so much.
If she had known she would suffer this much, she would have exploded on these people on the very first day!
A single shot would have killed her, saving her from all this trouble later.
Isn't this treating her like a Japanese person?
Oh, I heard one of the two doctors in charge of the experiment was Japanese... then never mind!
Serie wanted to curse internally, but her head grew heavier, her vision blurred, and her consciousness flickered like a candle in the wind. She didn't even hear the sudden blaring of the buzzing alarm in her ears.
Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.
The moment the metal door boomed open, a gaunt figure, accompanied by a cold wind, rushed in.
It was a young man in his early twenties, wearing a white lab coat. He pounced on the giant cocoon, his frameless glasses reflecting an eerie red light, and his lips twitched nervously: "This... how is this possible?"
His well-defined fingers flew across the keyboard of the giant cocoon's control panel, seemingly searching for a flaw.
But after a series of checks, the machine was operating completely normally—
"Not an Anomaly... a human? How could that be?"
The young man ran his fingers through his hair, making his already dry, straw-like hair even messier. He suddenly turned to stare at the twin-tailed researcher sitting in front of the mechanical instruments and waved his hand: "This S-class Anomaly is very stubborn. Restart the cocoon machine, now! Immediately!"
The female researcher trembled with fright, and the metal chair creaked.
She clearly had reservations, her fingertip hovering over the restart button, trembling slightly, unwilling to press it.
Just then, the alloy gate of the laboratory opened again.
The crisp sound of boots hitting the floor, accompanied by a woman's angry shout, rang out:
"Stop the experiment immediately!"
"Hayato, are you insane?"
The young woman with her blonde hair neatly tied into a high ponytail strode into the laboratory. Cobalt-blue pupils behind black-rimmed glasses gleamed with cold light, and the hem of her white lab coat billowed like waves with her steps. Her tall figure was even slightly taller than the young man in front of the experimental bench.
At the sound, the female researcher recoiled her hand from the restart button as if electrocuted.
The other researchers behind the control panel also showed a tacit understanding, shrinking their heads into the shadows of the control panel, pretending to be busy and making the sound of keyboard clicks suddenly intensify.
They dared not intervene in the dispute between the two A-class Doctors, not even daring to breathe, fearing that they would incur their wrath.
"How rare, Linette." The man's deliberately drawn-out tone was full of sarcasm: "You'd actually be soft-hearted towards an Anomaly?"
"Soft-hearted? Heh heh, Hayato..." Linette sneered, a hint of displeasure flashing in her eyes:
"If this experiment didn't have my signature, I wouldn't bother to ask. You unauthorizedly restarted the Cold Condensation Experiment a second time. Do you want us to write another accident report to the higher-ups?"
"Ahem..."
Hayato coughed twice to cover his embarrassment upon hearing the old matter brought up again.
Linette raised an eyebrow and retorted: "Do I need to remind you?"
"According to procedure, if an individual undergoes twelve hours of Cold Condensation Experiment and still shows no explicit characteristics, then the suspicion of being an Anomaly is ruled out."
"But this time is different!" Hayato's face grew increasingly grim. He pressed his hand against his glasses, appearing somewhat agitated:
"This fellow is not only S-class in danger level, but also an Anomaly predicted to be capable of world destruction. He is more dangerous and cunning than we imagined."
"I don't believe this level of experiment will make..."
"The Cold Condensation Experiment is a judgment procedure, not an execution ground for you to pre-set identity and conclusions!" Linette didn't wait for Hayato to finish: "Also, do you really believe the ravings of Anomaly No. 42?"
"Firstly, Anomaly No. 42's predictions have never been wrong so far..." Hayato lightly scraped his canine tooth with the tip of his tongue, scoffing: "Secondly, even if it's wrong, so what?"
"In such matters, it's better to kill a thousand innocent than to let one guilty person go!"
"How ridiculous..." Linette also laughed in extreme anger, completely scoffing at such extremist thinking.
They were at loggerheads for a moment, the tension between them subtly overshadowing the smell of disinfectant in the room.
"The mission of the Supernatural Anomaly Containment and Control Bureau is..." Linette's every syllable seemed to have been tempered by fire between her teeth: "If the target is human, then protect them, never mistakenly kill one..."
"If it is an Anomaly, then there can be no mistakes. It must be thoroughly studied and then properly handled."
"It is absolutely not about 'better to kill a thousand innocent than to let one guilty person go'!"
Hayato dismissively shook his head, gazing at Linette with an arrogant, superior attitude: "That's why you good students are like this..."
However, he also knew that arguing logically would definitely not work, but he had a simpler and more effective way of handling things.
That was—
"Say whatever you want, I'm doing this for the greater good of humanity..." Hayato spread his arms, blocking the steel cocoon. The hem of his lab coat swept the floor as he leaned forward, "Today, you won't—"
But Hayato's words abruptly caught in his throat.
When his peripheral vision caught the figure holding a bone china teacup behind the glass of the second-floor observation room, his hairs immediately stood on end along his spine.
Through the swirling mist of black tea, those hawk-like eyes had locked onto him.
This made Hayato immediately flinch to the side as if electrocuted, even before he finished speaking.
Linette, who was about to get angry, was also somewhat bewildered by this scene. Her delicate brows furrowed as she stared at Hayato, wondering what he was up to.
"Just kidding with you, young lady, don't be so serious~" Hayato smiled and spread his hands: "How could I make such a low-level mistake and disappoint the organization?"
Linette had no mood to play guessing games with him and walked directly towards the steel cocoon.
The moment the shadow passed, Hayato's expression suddenly turned sinister, but it was fleeting, quickly returning to his fawning smile.
Linette stopped in front of the steel cocoon. Through the reinforced glass viewport, the human figure inside the cocoon resembled a butterfly preserved in blue-white amber.
Serie's pale eyelids were half-closed, her eyelashes covered in ice crystals, already on the verge of death.
Linette's brows subtly trembled, her eyes slightly complex: "Thaw it, then open it."
Accompanied by the roar of metal, the steel giant cocoon split into two along its dark patterns.
A waterfall of low-temperature white mist poured out, making Linette's white lab coat flap fiercely in the air current.
Linette reached her hand into the wisps of frost mist, and to her surprise, she pulled out a... young girl from inside the cocoon!?
The girl was curled in Linette's arms, like a newly carved Colored Glaze doll, her damp black hair trailing over her porcelain-white back.
This S-class Anomaly, rumored to be capable of world destruction, was actually a weak young girl with no strength to even tie a chicken?
Beneath Serie's tightly closed eyelids, her almost transparent skin had a cold, jade-like bluish-white hue, and difficult gasps escaped her lips. The blood vessels in her neck pulsed violently beneath her thin skin.
Condensation was forming into thin streams along her slender collarbone, and her delicate body convulsed slightly like a beached fish.