"I knew it. It wasn’t my imagination after all."
The voice echoed calmly, almost satisfied.
"Normally, a person manifests the greatest regret buried in their heart—sothing so heavy they can never truly discard it."
They had used a hero-grade relic, one provided by the Helper itself, to overwrite Lena’s will.
Brainwashing her should have been simple.
Too simple.
But the results were wrong.
Sothing inside her heart resisted them.
Not a fleeting emotion. Not a passing attachnt.
A presence.
And it was enormous.
"But... this doesn’t make sense."
The observers exchanged uneasy glances.
"There’s sothing there," one of them muttered. "Sothing as large as her late younger brother."
A pause.
"No," another corrected slowly. "It’s even larger than that. Perhaps far larger."
That was impossible.
Lena should have been brainwashed long ago. The relic was flawless, refined through countless trials. Once activated, it crushed resistance by forcing the subject’s deepest regret to surface and dominate their consciousness.
Yet Lena was still conscious.
Still resisting.
Still herself.
"How is she enduring this?"
According to their investigation, Lena had low resistance to ntal interference. Against illusions, hypnosis, or psychological manipulation, she should have folded instantly.
This outco was abnormal.
Disturbingly so.
"No—no, that can’t be right," one of them snapped, voice sharp with denial. "If there truly was a presence greater than her brother, the relic wouldn’t have worked at all."
They clenched their fists.
"It must have worked because that other presence is insignificant. Just a lingering concern. Nothing more."
Yes.
That explanation was safer.
The plan was still proceeding.
It had to be proceeding.
The corruption of Lena into a villain—into a weapon they could control—was unfolding exactly as designed. Every step had been calculated. Every variable accounted for.
There was no room for doubt.
She told herself that repeatedly, like a prayer.
Deep down, however, unease coiled tightly around her chest.
She denied the truth with desperation, even as she felt sothing slipping away—twisting, distorting, threatening to snap.
This was her last chance.
If this failed...
If Lena didn’t break—
Then she would have no choice but to submit to soone else.
And that was unacceptable.
Unthinkable.
"There are no factors that could cause failure," she said firmly, as if saying it aloud would make it real. "None."
There shouldn’t be.
And yet—
Sowhere, deep within Lena’s heart, sothing refused to be erased.
Not regret.
Not grief.
But a na that had never truly left her.
A presence that quietly endured, waiting for the mont she would finally rember it.
Ti was running out.
...And they didn’t have completely brainwashed her.
They have to completely break Lena down to their plan to be successful.
But as if fate was mocking her wish, an obstacle intervened.
Three uninvited guests appeared on the screen monitoring Lena.
---
First, I texted the chairman about almost all the suspicious areas.
Since I was going directly to the most suspicious place, it would be fine if there weren’t any major setting changes.
It had to be fine.
As I forcibly suppressed my rising anxiety, I felt a little more at ease as we arrived at the most suspicious place.
"Is this the place?"
"Yeah."
An abandoned factory in the slums, far from the academy.
Although it had been stabilized, the factory in the dead town, no longer functioning due to its proximity to the field area, had a rather desolate atmosphere.
And this was the place where Professor Lena was presud to be.
No, she should be here if the original story hadn’t changed, but honestly, I couldn’t be sure, so I was still incredibly anxious.
Besides the chairman, weren’t these guys curious about how I knew this?
"There don’t seem to be any traps."
"Yeah, it seems safe to enter."
They didn’t seem to have any doubts, let alone questions.
Well, it wasn’t the ti to be asking such questions.
This Chapter was dark.
The previous ones hadn’t exactly been bright either, but I had always softened things sohow—reduced the number of victims, twisted the outcos, dulled the edges of the stories.
This ti was different.
This was probably the first mont when the protagonists were forced to stare directly at the true darkness of this world, without filters or rcy.
The iron gate of the abandoned factory groaned as it slowly opened, the sound sharp and unpleasant, like rusted teeth grinding together.
The sll hit us first.
Old oil.
Dust.
Sothing rotten underneath it all.
Inside, sitting on a filthy, sunken sofa, was Professor Lena.
No—calling her that felt wrong now.
She looked smaller than I rembered, her clothes stained and wrinkled, her hair tangled and dull. Her posture sagged forward as if gravity itself had grown heavier around her.
She was smiling.
"Haha... is it good?"
Her voice was light. Almost cheerful.
"That’s good. Then... after you finish this, should we go find more?"
Click.
She moved her hand.
A spoon passed through empty air, scraping softly as if she were scooping sothing from an invisible bowl.
There was nothing there.
Ryan and Leo, who had both stiffened in relief when they first spotted her, froze completely.
The warmth drained from their expressions in an instant.
"...Professor?" Ryan said carefully.
No response.
Lena tilted her head, eyes unfocused, staring at sothing that didn’t exist—or rather, sothing only she could see.
Watching her mutter to herself with that hollow gaze was disturbing in a way that crawled under the skin.
Reading it in text had already been uncomfortable.
Seeing it unfold right in front of us, with no warning, was far worse.
No.
Strictly speaking, she wasn’t alone.
Beside her sat an object she cradled with visible affection.
A small, cute doll.
Its button eyes reflected the dim factory light as Lena gently brought the spoon toward its stitched mouth, as if feeding a beloved child.
"...Seriously," I muttered under my breath.
My chest tightened.
Anger rose fast and sharp, burning away the initial shock.
How long had it been since I felt this kind of raw fury?
"This shitty world..."
Ryan took an unconscious step back, his boots scraping against the concrete floor.
"...That’s not funny," he whispered. "That’s not funny at all."
Leo’s jaw tightened.
Without a word, he reached back and pulled out his spear, the tal shaft glinting faintly.
"Ryan," Leo said quietly, not taking his eyes off Lena. "Snap out of it!"
"That thing," Ryan said, voice strained. "Is she... aware of us?"
But Ryen doesn’t seem to listening Leo.
He turned his head towards and asked.
"Is she going to be Okay?"
Is she?
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