It was hard to say whether it was an instinctive plea,
or a result carefully calculated and produced,
but as a result of the single word from the head inside the jar,
the suppression of anomaly No. 101 led by Code Name ‘Cosette’ from the anomaly management field unit was temporarily halted.
“The Humanity Conservation Foundation Union must protect all humans equally and fairly. That’s the founding ideology.”
“For something like that, you didn’t seem to listen no matter what I said earlier.”
“That’s because what was in the autopsy room then was a corpse without vital signs, but now it isn’t. The difference is clear, isn’t it?”
Cosette, still wearing her bulletproof vest, gestured toward the researchers busily coming and going.
The research building, which had been automatically sealed due to anomaly detection, was reopened at Cosette’s request, but only the autopsy room—where the anomaly was believed to exist—remained restricted and controlled.
And the head that Friedrich had shoved into an unknown jar
“—It’s very faint, but it doesn’t look like a flat brainwave. How did you think of putting that head in there? In a ‘brain storage container’?”
The head floated inside a glass container on an experimental table surrounded by researchers.
Its green eyes half-closed.
The sensors embedded in the mucus intermittently displayed irregular lines on monitors.
To an ordinary person, it would be a sight enough to faint from.
But Friedrich watched calmly and muttered:
“It reminded me of what I saw last time.”
“You have sharp eyes. But shouldn’t you pay the price for abusing unfinished research? It was made from data and materials collected by the Foundation Union.”
“Bill it to me.”
“That’s insincere. More importantly, what do you plan to do with that person?”
“What I want is observation and investigation of No. 101. When the owner of that head wakes up, I want to observe how he could exist inside the anomaly with a human body.”
“Hmm.”
“As you know, the average person was already—when we found him in the economic zone—”
“Definitely dead. Even if dragged inside an anomaly, he wouldn’t have much effect. Yes, whether by chance or miracle, it’s clear that person will be managed by the Foundation. This will probably be counted as the first case of securing a sample that might be the root of the anomaly itself.”
“What does the research management department say? They must have heard already.”
“They obviously welcome it with open arms. They’re already drafting an experimental plan. But one problem remains: whether what’s inside there is No. 101 or will be defined as a human individual with a single name. That depends on the higher-ups’ decision.”
As befits its name, the Humanity Conservation Foundation Union had the ultimate goal of the perpetual preservation of humanity.
However, as the name suggests, the Foundation itself was an organization with subordinate groups and individuals contributing power.
The Foundation maintained balance by receiving, considering, discussing, and persuading those groups’ protests and requests.
One of the unresolved matters was the definition of ‘human.’
Human, order Primates, genus Homo—encompassing current humans and their ancestors.
But in modern times, various definitions of what constitutes a human have been attempted.
Some focused on the physical form with head, body, arms, and legs.
Others asked whether the being possessed an independent language and self-awareness.
Others used the ability to create sophisticated tools as the criterion.
Some valued uniquely human ethics and morality,
while others considered the ability to form social groups.
Humans have been denied and accepted in many aspects multiple times. But no proper conclusion had been reached yet.
Is that thing a human? Or just an anomaly dreaming?
Friedrich put aside his prejudices and asked himself, but it remained a difficult question.
“Another heated debate will break out.”
“Why? Want to join? Our director might agree.”
“That’s enough. Whether it’s defined as an anomaly or recognized as human, it doesn’t concern me. I just need permission to investigate it.”
As long as sufficient research results could be obtained, what happened afterwards—whether it disappeared or was quarantined—was not his concern.
Friedrich’s mind gradually shifted to the autopsy room declared a controlled zone.
Raimund clearly remembered losing consciousness inside the jar.
Thanks to the white-haired man who had unilaterally informed him that only a few minutes remained,
He thought he had fallen into hell where only his head was severed.
Now he was mercilessly blinded by the white light shining down from the ceiling again.
What is this? Can death stack...?
This time he could clearly perceive the body connected below the neck. A black shadow suddenly intruded over him, who was wiggling his fingers and toes slowly.
“You’re awake. How do you feel?”
“Ugh.”
“Ah, don’t say anything. Since you haven’t used your body in a while, the small muscles will take time to adapt. Do you see this?”
Raimund squinted to look at the finger the shadow offered. When he nodded, the finger disappeared.
“Can you raise your arm? If possible, try to move your legs as well.”
He succeeded with his arm but failed to move his legs due to lack of strength.
The stranger kindly spoke:
“That’s a success for now. It’s best to lie down until you fully regain consciousness. I’ll be back soon, so rest a bit.”
Nodding as if he understood, Raimund watched the figure leave, and only then felt relieved.
When the stranger moved his fingers, a ‘ting’ sound echoed. It was a hard bed without even a sheet. Somehow the texture was unpleasant.
He had thought he would die helplessly but barely survived.
When he first woke up, he thought this place was hell where the dead arrive, but seeing no blazing sulfur fire or hot cauldron, it seemed not so.
But how?
Raimund squeezed all his strength and got off the bed.
It was the first time his legs felt like thin straws.
His entire muscle system felt as if cut once then reconnected and didn’t obey.
Slowly raising his body like a snail, his head spun.
His limbs didn’t feel like his own.
It felt like wearing an armored suit that operated a beat late.
The floor was hard and cold.
The unfamiliar temperature sent shivers down his spine.
The space was a perfect white square.
Not narrow, but not extremely wide either.
If compared, it seemed about twice the size of his second-floor bedroom in Evie Lane.
But unlike his bedroom, this place was all white, appearing spotless with not a speck of dust or germ.
Besides the bed he was lying on, the room held nothing else.
His clothes too.
Where did his shirt and jeans go? Why was he only wearing a thin piece of cloth barely covering his lower body?
Raimund stretched his neck to look inside and involuntarily gasped.
“Huh.”
Why no underwear? Isn’t underwear a basic human right?
Why am I having my basic rights mercilessly violated in a strange place?
More importantly, who took my underwear?
Raimund was newly shocked.
Though unsure, if this place housed perverts who steal even underwear, he had to escape quickly.
He opened the only door in the room.
He just wanted to check if it was locked, but the door opened automatically.
Having seen only rusty locks and latches before, Raimund found this advanced system somewhat fascinating as he passed through.
Outside... was dark.
Unlike the excessively bright room.
The corridor wasn’t a typical corridor but more like a kind of bridge.
The iron bridge with many holes in its floor hung from a ceiling high above.
Not exactly sure how high, as he couldn’t see the ceiling.
Looking up to see how high it was and taking a few steps back, Raimund caught sight of the outside wall of the room he came from.
Containers, or marble-like blocks.
Red paint marked numbers above the door.
[ No.101 ]
Number 101? What does that mean?
But no matter how much he stared at the number, it didn’t solve anything immediately.
The important thing was how to get out of here, and how to return home.
He started walking along the bridge.
A chilly wind blew up from below.
Raimund realized that, like the block he came out of, there were many other blocks.
Each block bore a number painted in red.
Not all blocks were like that.
Some were painted yellow.
Some had unknown devices plastered over the entrance.
Others had entrances sealed off like walls.
From inside such blocks, faint thudding sounds came.
Noticing the slight shaking of the blocks, Raimund finally saw thick chains connecting the tops of the blocks to the ceiling.
Only small safety lights lit the bridge floor.
Blocks hung in a vast dome where floor and ceiling locations were impossible to guess.
Raimund stopped walking.
He heard faint crying echoing somewhere.
A sorrowful “uuuuu” echoed and distorted weirdly as it reflected off blocks and walls.
Not here.
Is it coming from down there?
When Raimund peeked over the railing, he had the illusion of seeing black, shimmering waves and splashing water below.
Where could that be? Was there water on the floor for a reason?
As his upper body tilted slightly outward,
“-Be careful. One wrong move and it’s a miserable death.”
Someone grabbed Raimund’s nape sharply.
Pulled by rough strength, Raimund turned.
His green eyes widened.
Oh, this person. He seemed familiar.
Raimund’s mouth opened slightly.
The woman smiled, narrowing her brown eyes.
“We know each other, right?”
Know each other?
Yes.
Raimund remembered the woman with tied-up hair.
Probably when he was definitely inside the jar.
Instead of letting go of Raimund’s clothes, she grabbed his hand and shook it firmly.
“Nice to meet you. Please just call me Cosette. I didn’t expect you’d come out this far to meet me.”
“Uh. Uhuh.”
Do you know her?
Though they were acquainted, Raimund had no reason to expect such a friendly treatment.
While he looked puzzled, the woman called Cosette spoke cheerfully.
“By the way, I didn’t expect you’d already be taking a walk.
If I knew you’d adapt this quickly, I would have visited yesterday.
It’s a bit humid here, you know?
As you saw, there’s water on the floor.
It’s about 200 feet deep, so if you fall in, just consider yourself dead.”
“Uh, uhuh.”
“I heard you still can’t speak. You’ll adapt to the new body soon.
The research management department was very pleased, calling this a new challenge.
Are you feeling a bit better now?”
New body? What does that mean?
Raimund blinked.
The woman smiled brightly, though somewhat artificial but well-trained, and continued:
“The burned skin was treated with stem cell transplants.
Of course, since the head remained, it didn’t take long.
But the synchronization of body and head takes time…”
According to the research management department’s diagnosis.
They’re not a medical support team, but they are the most knowledgeable about anomalies.
She kept talking, but Raimund’s ears heard nothing.
He stepped back slowly.
An anomaly? Only the head left?
What did that mean?
So, it wasn’t a dream that he was inside the jar?
It was all real?
Seeing Raimund pale, the woman tilted her head.
“Are you feeling unwell anywhere?”
“Ugh. Uh.”
“Ah… You still have a lot to learn.
Even if you don’t understand everything, it’s okay.
But I must say this.”
She spread her arms wide.
Behind Cosette, countless blocks seemed to float in midair, shaking with strange chain sounds in the void-like silence.
The sight would remain branded deeply into Raimund’s mind forever.
“Welcome to the Humanity Conservation Foundation Union, No. 101.”