The White Room Dropout - A CotE Fanfic

Part 45: Echoes of the Past

"Tsukishiro, you seem to be gravely mistaken," I countered, my voice laced with determination. "You've forgotten who I am. She no longer has any connection to me, and I couldn't care less if anything were to happen to her."

With that, I brought the conversation to an abrupt end, terminating the call. In this treacherous landscape of conspiracies and hidden agendas, I had chosen my path, one devoid of sentiment and attachment.

As I ended the call, a heavy silence descended upon me, matching the grim atmosphere of the city around. The distant echoes of chaos reverberated through the alleyways, a constant reminder of the turmoil outside. There was no sentiment, no remorse, just a cold detachment that had become my armor. As distant gunshots and explosions punctuated the eerie silence, I pressed on, each step taken with a calculated precision.

The streets I walked were a labyrinth of uncertainty, and with every step, I distanced myself further from any connection that might have remained. I had made my choice - to sever any bonds that could be exploited, to become an entity unaffected by emotions.

Yet, despite the walls I had built around my heart, an unease gnawed at me, like a whispering shadow in the depths of my mind. It was an unfamiliar sensation, an itch I couldn't quite scratch. Uncharacteristic of me, indeed.

Amidst the cold, dimly lit alleyways, my steps faltered. The unease persisted, growing stronger with every passing moment. It was a sensation alien to me, a feeling that didn't belong in the meticulously structured world I had constructed for myself. It gnawed at the edges of my consciousness, refusing to be ignored.

And then, as if a long-forgotten memory had been suddenly unearthed, it hit me—a realization that felt like a plunge into the depths of time. The event that resurfaced had been buried deep within my psyche, an echo from years past, and I felt as though I had been transported back in time.

Somewhere in the White Room...

It was just another ordinary day, or as ordinary as days could be in that sterile environment. I left my room as instructed and began following the familiar path to the assembly hall, accompanied by an instructor.

But something was amiss.

As we continued walking, the instructor deviated from the usual route. I hesitated for a moment, my steps faltering as confusion washed over me. The instructor, ever perceptive, noticed my hesitation and turned his gaze toward me. His words were measured, delivered with a sense of purpose that hinted at something out of the ordinary.

"There will be a special test for you," he informed me, his voice devoid of emotion.

I continued to follow the instructor down the unfamiliar path, my thoughts swirling with curiosity and a tinge of unease. The White Room had always been a place of precision, each day orchestrated with meticulous planning and rigorous routines. Any deviation from the norm stirred a sense of intrigue and, perhaps, a subtle foreboding.

As we arrived at a particular room, its door silently slid open, revealing a scene that defied my expectations. My questions remained unanswered, like the unspoken mysteries that permeated every corner of this enigmatic institution. The room was divided by a glass pane, a barrier that separated us from two other chambers. It was as though I had stepped into a theater, with distinct acts awaiting their unfolding.

In one room, a group of kids just a few years older than me had gathered, their physiques appeared unnaturally developed, defying the laws of nature. Their expressions carried a mix of apprehension and curiosity, their presence standing as a perplexing testament to their inexplicable survival in the harsh confines of the White Room.