The office was a symbol of luxury, far removed from the darkness of the arena that 001 was used to. Thick carpets muffled footsteps, and warm light spilled across the polished wood surfaces, creating a room that breathed power and wealth. 001 stood just inside the doorway, silent and still, his eyes downcast as the trainer laid out the details of the contract to the conglomerate and his wife. Their conversation felt distant, a murmur on the edge of his awareness, as though it took place in a world entirely separate from his own.
"001 has been prepared for a variety of scenarios," the trainer said, his tone clipped and businesslike. "However, if you find that he exhibits any... undesirable behavior, this will ensure compliance." He placed the remote for the shock collar on the table, pushing it toward the conglomerate. "It's quite effective."
The man picked up the remote, his hand steady as he regarded the small device. "Let's see," he murmured, glancing toward 001. Without hesitation, he pressed the button.
Agony lanced through 001's neck, spreading like wildfire down his spine. His muscles locked, and he gritted his teeth against the searing pain, but he didn't flinch. The arena had taught him to withstand such things, the voltage just under his current pain tolerance. Years of punishment and obedience had honed his silence into a skill.
The trainer barely spared him a glance, his voice betraying no sympathy. "You see? Completely manageable."
As the collar's effects faded, 001 straightened, forcing his body to obey once more. He cast a fleeting glance at the door, searching for an escape from the suffocating familiarity of the collar's control. But there was no freedom for him here—only a new assignment.
Before he could withdraw further into his thoughts, the door swung open, and two children burst in, their laughter echoing through the quiet room. Their presence was an explosion of life, a stark contrast to the sterile discussions of control and punishment that had filled the air moments before. They came to a halt, their eyes falling on 001.
"Who's that?" Shin Yoosung asked, her voice edged with suspicion. Her dark eyes darted from 001 to her parents, then to the trainer. There was a hard set to her expression, the wariness of someone who had seen too many people come and go. "He's not another bodyguard, is he?"
"001 is here to ensure your safety," the conglomerate answered, his tone calm and even. "You'll listen to him, and he will be responsible for you."
Yoosung's mouth tightened, her gaze turning cold as she stepped back, folding her arms over her chest. "I don't need another babysitter," she muttered, casting a dark look at 001. "You don't need to keep pretending we're some perfect family."
Beside her, Lee Gilyoung observed 001 with open curiosity, his head tilted to one side. "He's really young," Gilyoung said, half to himself, half to Yoosung. "Younger than I thought he'd be."
The words hung in the air, stirring something deep within 001—a faint echo of his own childhood, nearly forgotten. He had been young once, long ago, before the arena, before the pain and endless training. Brief flashes of warmth and safety, of his mother's voice and the gentle touch of her hand, flickered at the edges of his memory like the last rays of sunlight before nightfall. But those memories had faded, replaced by the relentless grind of survival. The innocence still lingering in these children's eyes had long been stripped from him.
Yoosung continued to glare at him, her expression hardening as she took in the shock collar around his neck. "Does it hurt?" she asked bluntly, as if daring him to answer. "When they shock you?"
Oh. So she had seen it. 001 said nothing, keeping his gaze lowered. His silence stretched on, the weight of the collar a constant reminder of his place. He was not there to answer questions or to explain himself. He was a tool—a human molded into a weapon. Or a weapon given a human shape. Which one of the two, he was no longer sure.
