The Eighth Institute.
This is what the people dressed in white uniforms, all armed with powerful weapons, told her when they brought her to this place.
And she was just a five or six-year-old child who had to look up to see the chins of these people in white uniforms.
A little girl wearing clothes prepared by these people, already washed clean—she encountered many people along the way in this place, all dressed in white uniforms, and she couldn't figure out what they were doing.
Because to her, everything here was beyond her comprehension.
Right—ever since her parents died tragically, the world had been beyond her understanding. The little girl looked at her clothes—a single piece without distinction of top or bottom, without pockets, just simply covering her body like a robe.
Pinned to her chest was something like a badge, with a line of numbers on it. Her mother had taught her numbers, so she recognized what it said: 1031.
