He looks like a lion with a black mane.

That was what I had thought when I first met Kyle. Long black hair, smooth yet thick. Sharp eyes that tilted up at the corners. Blazing golden irises.

He reminded me of a lion, and he drew the eye. So I stood watching him for a long time, until he turned toward me, smiling with a hand resting on the pommel of his sword.

Kyle soon noticed my gaze.

["Ah."]

I remembered his jet-black hair blowing in the wind.

["You're Hildebert?"]

We first met on the training grounds.

Those were our bold, fearless days. Days when each of us sought someone who could hone the sword at his waist. I came face-to-face with Kyle, whose name was making the rounds for all sorts of reasons. He, in turn, found the same in me.

That was the beginning of a bond that would not easily break.

A bond that lasted until the world ended.

It was no light connection. My memories of him carried weight. We had done so much together. Slaying monstrous beasts. Suppressing rebellions. War. Dragon hunts. Searching for sacred relics.

Our world expanded as we went through things that required us to entrust our backs to each other. We met people like Deltei, Yvonne, and Rin. Sometimes we forged new bonds together; sometimes one of us introduced someone to the other.

Kyle and I were so different. Perhaps that was what kept us together for so long. We moved forward, each making up for the other's weaknesses.

There had been a time when I needed only to look after myself. When setting out to slay a monster meant preparing to risk only my life, his, and those of the companions who came with us.

As those good days passed, I had more and more to answer for.

But my friendship with Kyle held firm until the world ended.

We watched the world collapse together.

And the portal that opened onto unfathomable darkness, too...

["Now that you've seen it all, it's time to tell me your story, Hildebert."]

A cold voice pierced my ears.

["One good turn deserves another, after all."]

You're quite right, of course.

But I don't want to get on an operating table when there's nothing wrong with me...

I bowed my head and groaned.

After I had sat hunched up for a while, someone in a white coat approached. I raised my head to look at the figure walking out of the darkness. Tall, with a billowing white coat.

A jet-black turtleneck beneath the lab coat.

John Mühlen stopped in front of me.

["You came on an empty stomach this time, I trust."]

The gray-haired scientist asked in a low voice.

["Test Subject Zero."]

WHIRRR!

A chainsaw spun.

The scientific genius of the century brought it to my throat as I sat there, unable to answer.

What he said next was pure terror.

["No, Hildebert Taleb."]

Why my name...

Aaargh!

Wait.

Someone,

"Someone save me!"

"You scared me!"

THUD!

A dull pain struck my head.

I blinked my dry eyes several times, taking in the sensations that rushed over me all at once.

I was used to situations like this now, so I was quick to get my bearings. My seniors were looking down at me in disbelief. Riccardo, leaning against the wall with a derisive snort. Bobby, sitting on the floor, wide-eyed. Achille, looking down at me with a mixture of concern and incredulity.

Apparently, Achille had shaken me awake.

And I had hit my head on the nearby wall when I tried to get up.

I tried and failed to rub my still-aching head, then lay on my side. The sight before me supplied another piece of information.

We were still locked up.

"Coming around now?"

Riccardo gave a little laugh as I lay there blinking. Thankfully, he and the other seniors looked all right.

I opened my gritty eyes, stared at him for a moment, then nodded.

"Yes."

"How do you feel?"

Kneeling close beside me, Achille narrowed his eyes.

At his question, I rolled my eyes around and took stock of my condition.

First, I desperately needed eye drops, and my head hurt where it had hit the floor. And... my body was tingling. It felt as if every part of me had fallen asleep.

Probably because those lunatics had forcibly pumped some unknown drug into me.

Still, I was lucky it was no worse. No hallucinations or ringing in my ears. Once the tingling wore off, I should be able to get up and move normally.

I met my seniors' intent gazes.

"Does anyone have eye drops?"

All three stared at me in silence.

Bobby was the one who answered.

"Do you have dry eye?"

"No, I don't... But my eyes feel really gritty."

"Isn't that because you cried so much?"

Achille spoke gruffly. He watched me with an impassive face, then used his thumb to wipe the dried tear tracks from my cheek.

"You were crying the whole time."

I felt as though I'd been caught not washing my face.

It was a little embarrassing. Without moving a muscle (or, more accurately, unable to), I gave Achille a sheepish smile.

"Thank you. My hands and feet are still a bit numb... I'll make sure to wash my face later."

"Your hands and feet are numb?"

Riccardo's voice sharpened as he repeated the words.

Still smiling sheepishly, I looked into his green eyes.

"Yes. I'm fine otherwise. I'm sure the numbness will go away soon, too."

None of them answered.

What were those suspicious looks for? I felt a little wronged by the way they were watching me, Riccardo in particular.

I really did take good care of my body.

Not much trust here.

Anyway, how were we going to get out of here?

I was looking all around, assessing the situation, when Achille spoke.

"Have a bad dream or something?"

Ah.

Just remembering the dream exhausted me.

"Yes. I dreamed John Mühlen called me by my real name."

"Hm?"

Achille blinked his blue eyes, apparently not expecting that answer.

"John Mühlen? The genius scientist in the lab?"

"Yes."

"Why is that a bad dream?"

Riccardo began to chuckle.

Ignoring his laughter, I mumbled something vague about having my reasons. Even thinking back on it now, it was a chilling dream. It had to be a nightmare brought on by whatever drugs they had given me.

Horrifying. Seriously.

Though the tears must have been from the dream about Kyle.

Thankfully, Achille didn't press me.

Instead, my silver-haired senior asked if I wanted help sitting up. I politely declined. I appreciated the offer, but I wanted to stay lying down for a while. So much so that even the cold seeping from the floor didn't bother me.

More importantly, I wasn't sure I could stay upright.

When would these drugs wear off? I was the only one who could still use my strength properly, so I needed to recover fast.

Lifting only my chin a little, I examined the pale corridor beyond the bars.

Cool air hung over the place. I could sense no one nearby. I'd thought they would lock us up with the illegal transplant recipients, but we were the only ones in this cell.

Oh.

Good timing, wasn't it?

"What are you doing?"

Bobby stared in astonishment as I wriggled toward the bars.

"Need some help?"

"No, I'm almost there."

The cell was small, so I soon reached the bars.

Ignoring the cramping pins and needles, I stretched out my hands. I didn't care that they were trembling, or that my seniors were looking at me in disbelief.

Was this any time to worry about dignity?

Let's just get out first!

BZZZT!

"Urgh!"

"Hey!"

The instant I pulled my hands away with a short groan, Achille shouted sharply.

The shock that had jolted through me left me unable to answer. He grabbed me roughly by the scruff of the neck and dragged me away from the bars.

"Idiot! Of course they're not ordinary bars!"

"That rookie is going to drive me insane..."

I heard Riccardo rise from where he had been leaning against the wall.

Clicking his tongue, he came over. I lay with my cheek against the floor, both hands limp after clutching the bars.

That hurt like hell.

Riccardo sighed and dragged me farther from the bars.

"Don't go doing reckless shit when you can't even sit up properly..."

"But I'm the only one who can still use their strength properly right now."

"You see those cuffs around your wrists and ankles?"

Riccardo pointed to my left wrist and ankle as I lay sprawled on the floor again.

I nodded, conscious of the unfamiliar things against my skin, and he explained.

"There are bombs inside... And a security camera on the ceiling. They'll go off if you get outside the bars."

"Oh, damn. They're thorough."

I'd been planning to try a few more times, but there was no point.

Riccardo snorted as though he'd read my mind. But I pretended not to see my seniors' disgruntled reactions. Now, at least, was no time for them to be worrying about me.

Yes, I was too drugged up to sit properly, but that didn't mean my healing had dropped to an ordinary person's level.

The three of them, on the other hand, were completely ordinary right now.

I could feel the lack of grip strength even in the hands dragging me away. I had to find a way out before things got any worse.

"We'll just have to win."

Bobby, who had been sitting quietly, spoke up.

She had let down her elaborate updo and sat with both palms braced against the cold floor.

"Even illegal transplant recipients win matches and make a name for themselves. Why can't we?"

That would be the cleanest outcome, yes.

But they weren't going to send out creatures we could beat with ordinary bodies. My face remained screwed up. Apparently, while I was unconscious, my seniors had agreed to enter the matches and win.

I didn't like that agreement.

Ignoring Achille asking whether I was always this reckless, and Riccardo replying that I had never been anything else and no amount of scolding would fix it, I concentrated on finding a way out. I sharpened my senses and carefully reviewed the situation.

They had confiscated all our weapons before throwing us in here, but thankfully we still had Riccardo's ring and the protective suits beneath our civilian clothes.

A small mercy.

Still, if anything happened to these people, I would shield them with my body.

I drew in my still-tingling arms.

I would have shared my "Hildebert Meat Shield Plan" with my seniors if I hadn't heard the click of shoes.

CLICK, CLICK.

Footsteps.

The sharp sound echoed through the bleak space. My seniors went utterly still.

I stopped wriggling, too, and raised my head just a little.

The sound came from the far end of the bluish-white corridor.

THUD, THUD.

At some point, the click of shoes became the tread of military boots.

The steps never paused, but their sound changed. Measured yet languid, heavy but not lumbering.

The owner of those footsteps emerged leisurely from the darkness, neatly dressed in a blue police uniform.

All five of my senses went on alert at the sight of the smiling man with his police cap tilted at an angle.

"Senior."

He was smiling at Achille, not me.

"It's been a while. Have you been well?"

BANG!

BZZZT! BANG!

The instant Achille threw himself against the bars, electricity coursed through them. Riccardo and I sprang up and pulled him away.

I even had to pin Achille down to stop him from continuing to lunge at the person outside.

Held in my grip, Achille ground his teeth.

Still struggling to escape from under my arm, he shouted.

"Jaeyeon!"

Ha...

I'd been hoping it wouldn't be that person, at least.

I swallowed the groan threatening to escape and pressed my forearm down on my senior as he struggled, glaring at Jaeyeon. With Green Dream in his system, he wasn't hard to restrain.

Riccardo and Bobby watched without moving.

Fighting the urge to sigh, I looked beyond the bars.

Jet-black shoes and a blue uniform. Short hair. But the foxlike eyes and handsome nose were unchanged.

A man's appearance today, then.

Surprisingly, Jaeyeon seemed to know Achille. Wearing what was probably the same appearance Achille remembered, he gave a broad smile.

"We haven't seen each other since that day."

I had to put more strength into the arm holding Achille down.

"I heard you quit the police and became a Badger."

"You..."

Anger and betrayal dripped from Achille's rasping voice.

"Were you the one who pulled the police out?"

"Ding, ding, ding."

Jaeyeon answered the low, anger-suppressed question brightly.

He nudged his police cap straight.

"It was me this time, too."

"Someday I'll put you behind bars."

Achille spat out a vow he could never fulfill.

Only someone who didn't know who stood behind Jaeyeon could say such a thing.

"And the bastard behind you, too."

Jaeyeon burst out laughing.

His laughter echoed down the cold corridor, full of pure delight. Of course it was. How hilarious and entertaining Achille Fisker's words must have been to him.

Even I was astonished that Achille had encountered Jaeyeon as "Jaeyeon" and lived. The sight of that police uniform broke the dam holding back my memories. Even before the war began, Jaeyeon had been a truly peculiar being.

People who saw his face usually died at Colton's hands. Unless they held an unusual position, like the elders or their agents.

But plenty of people had met Jaeyeon when he wasn't "Jaeyeon."

A genius actor.

Flawless method acting. Someone unbound by physical constraints such as sex or height. Only Colton could recognize Jaeyeon when he was playing someone else. Even Jaeyeon himself would forget that he had transformed into another person.

Kyle and Ray had called Jaeyeon a shapeshifter.

A being whose gift for imitation was so extraordinary that he had lost even his own identity.

He could be identified only by his aesthetic preferences. Upturned eyes, for instance, or beautiful features with a foxlike air.

After laughing his head off for a good while, Jaeyeon wiped the tears from his eyes with his little finger.

"Ah, this is why I like you, senior."

His voice was rich with delight.

"Buddy, please, I'm begging you. Don't give up. I'm always looking forward to it."