The Red Thread of Fate || Wen Junhui

➶ one ➴

Standing in an endless ocean of white lab coats are three strangers.

The leader with bullet holes for eyes, his second in command donning soft facial features and a gentle smile, and their tiny hacker with a permanent frown and stiff posture.

Sungcheol, Jisoo, and Jihoon.

They watch me with curious eyes. Whenever the surgeon says something, they all nod in unison, but I can tell they aren't listening.

They are trapped in a large operating room, surrounded by a dozen doctors, ten burly Sentinels carrying large guns, and one Rogue Soldier. The only thing they're focusing on is how not to die.

"She's been checked and cleared of any diseases or illnesses during the past week. We've had her teeth cleaned at least four times in the past five days, but we recommend that she brushes them twice a day," he drones on, reading off a worn-out clipboard. Papers are piled up thick and stuffed into the rusty clip.

My gaze slides to the operating table.

Only this morning, I lay unconscious there while multiple surgeons sliced into my body. I can still feel where their scalpels had been and where they inserted needle after needle into my aching neck. My silver fingers desperately want to rub it, but with the tight collar they screwed in during that time, I can't.

"We also recommend that she cuts her hair twice a week. We normally do it on Tuesdays and Fridays. Because of all the procedures she's had done to her body, it tends to grow at an abnormal rate," a female doctor steps in. I recognize her as Doctor Freya Brennan, and sudden anger runs a marathon through my veins.

When the Government officially classified me as a Rogue Soldier, she was the first one to cut into my virgin skin with the sharpest scalpel available. She removed both of my arms—flesh, bones, and all—and replace them with shimmery, prosthetic ones. This only happened when I was nine. She transformed me and a million others into the weapons we are today.

While two of them continue to nod, Sungcheol steps forward.

"What's the collar for?" he asks.

I sink back into the chair and feel nervous when the attention lands on me.

She snakes towards me on loud high heels, then harshly grips the plastic implanted into my skin and pulls me forward. Even though I bite back a yelp, the pain is written all over my face. He looks like he regrets asking.

"This collar is a new prototype of mine," she announces smugly. "It will negate any violent thoughts or actions, so she will not be able to hurt you or your team. Should she try, she'll be shocked."

A look of worry is shared between Sungcheol, Jisoo, and Jihoon.

"And," Doctor Brennan adds, "she won't be allowed to handle any weapons during her time wearing the collar. This includes scissors. You'll have to find somebody to cut her hair, and find her something more civil to do in your workplace. She should be avoiding any kind of mission until it is removed."

The shorter one's face lit up. "She can work with me for the time being. I'm the captain behind all of our missions, and I control everything behind a scr—"

Doctor Brennan abruptly let go and waves her hand dismissively. "Yes, yes, good for you."

"When should we have it taken off?" Jisoo finally speaks, his voice strangely gentle.

"The Government would like it to be in a span between a week and two weeks. If you want to keep it on for even longer, that is possible too." There is an edge of mockery to her nasally voice.