Code 61

Chapter 1

My dreams were often consumed by flames that didn't burn me. Somehow, I always seemed to know it was a dream. There was a surreal quality to it — a strobe light effect that seemed to only exist in the plane that transcended reality.

Here, I was in control. I couldn't hurt anyone. I didn't have to be afraid of myself.

These kind of dreams were often followed by a waking that felt like resurfacing from the bottom of a murky lake. Heavy breathing. Pillows soaked with a cocktail of tears, sweat and desperation. The lingering sensation of a death that had turned me away at the last second.

The first few seconds often left me reeling, stumbling through my memories to recall the hours that came before the weight of slumber had taken me away. It would take me moments — minutes — to remember who and where I was. It's the whys I never had an answer to.

My head was throbbing, and I tried to ply the pain by pressing the heel of my head against my temple. The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was the morphing colours on the muted television screen. Below, the headline flashed: Aberrants arrested for illegal use of abilities.

Everything about us was illegal.

I sighed, forcing myself to stand up. My body refused to, my mind wanted the opposite, knowing if I'd be in trouble if I didn't show up to work this morning. There was already enough marks on my name to know another infraction could mean the end of me.

Just like them. My eyes drifted to the television screen as the footage of android sentinels escorted what the world deemed as abominations. Aberrants, that was how they called us, as if it was our choice to be born different.

A warning flashed on the screen, cautioning viewers that the next scene was graphic and violent. I knew what it was even before it played; another one of us gunned down for being desperate enough to want to escape.

In this city, being different was like a death sentence in itself. You just didn't know when the bullet would end your misery.

I was in desperate need of coffee.

As I stirred the drink my hand, I looked around the small bedroom I considered home for the last six years. There were still faint traces of scorch marks on the walls that used to be white but were now stained yellow with time. I gave up trying to erase them long ago.

Posters of musicians I didn't listen to anymore covered most of the damage that bleach couldn't fight. Their corners had already curled, their materials stiff, and colours barely alive, but they worked well enough for the landlord not to notice the damage.

On the shelves, along the windowsill, on tabletops — the room was cluttered with so many untouched memories of a distant lifetime, collecting dust. Then I shook my head. There was no point questioning what life could've been if I wasn't born this way.

I could feel a lifetime of anger bubbling up again. 'Slow breaths,' I told myself. 'Breathe in, breath out. Tamp it down.'

There was no point dwelling on it when I never had a choice. After all, the entire circumstance was like a fucked-up joke and I was the butt of it.

When the knock on the door came, I had to check the time again to see if I woke up late. I didn't; it was still six in the morning. Plenty of time to get to the construction site where work began at eight.

The knock came again. I couldn't help but sigh. If only ignoring the door wasn't an infraction for the likes of me, I could've pretended not to hear anything. But the world hated me and everything I do was already under so much scrutiny, so I pulled the door open and frowned at the person standing outside.

"Is today a scheduled visit, Inspector?" The title came out of my lips with barely held-back sarcasm.

The man before me clenched his jaw, as if holding back a biting remark that could shatter me. It was too late for that. The words had already slipped between us long ago, splitting the ground until the years stretched between like a canyon.

Byun Baekhyun looked almost the same as when I first knew him. We were both fledgling mirrors of each other who arrived almost at the same time at the orphanage. He'd been the first person to approach me when everyone else was too busy being afraid. I doubted things were still the same between us.

"I'm not here on official capacity." He shifted his weight to the other foot.

He wasn't wearing the usual grey uniform he sported whenever he came to inspect me. In their place was a casual hoodie a size too big for him, a small messenger bag slung across his torso, and sneakers. Baekhyun looked like how he used to when before everything changed.

Before nostalgia could inundate me, I asked him. "Then why are you here?"

"I brought you something," he said. He took out a small box from his messenger bag. "I thought you'd like it."

I stared at the box in his hand, not even making a move to take it.

"For heaven's sake, Yeol. Just take it!"

I could feel the heat rising off of my body. Emanating from somewhere inside me. I thought he felt it, too, because he stepped away, the alarm on his face apparent. Drawing a deep breath, I tried to get a grip. It was always a test of patience whenever he visited, official or not. "You should leave."

"How long are you going to hate me for my choice?" he asked before I could close the door completely.

I stared at him through the gap, meeting his questioning gaze. It's as if the years we spent together flashed before me. Memories materialised out of the blue — the happy ones with vivid clarity that it stung to see. It only made the anger flare a bit more. The betrayal that drove us apart was too big.

"For as long as I live."

Then I shut the door in his face.