The air inside the wooden shed was damp and heavy.
Wei sat in a corner, his eyes drifting to the boy not far away—Minnow.
It was hard to say that Minnow had been dragged here.
He looked more like someone who had stayed too long—
so long that even the feeling of being locked up had been worn smooth.
"Reforging… what does that even mean?"
Minnow didn't answer right away.
He scraped the bottom of his plate with a spoon.
The sound was slow and soft,
like someone grinding down something already blunt.
"What do you think it means?"
A boy nearby cut in impatiently. "It means fixing your rotten habits."
"Yeah,"
another boy grinned. "What, you think they sent us here for fun?"
"It means—"
Minnow lifted his head
and glanced at Wei.
The look was brief.
So brief it felt like he was confirming something that had already happened.
"People who leave this place," he said,
"rarely get to stay themselves."
Wei froze.
"Then what do they want us to become?"
Minnow lowered his head
and scraped the plate again.
"The kind of people they want."
"Rule-followers."
"Obedient ones."
"Useful ones."
The words came from different directions,
fast, like lines already memorized.
Wei felt something cold poke at his chest.
"So… everyone here was captured?"
The boy shook his head. "Not all."
"Some came willingly. Some were even sent here by their parents—with money.
And some…"
He glanced at the thin, curled-up boys around them and lowered his voice.
"Some were dragged in.
They call us problem stock.
They say we need 'personality reconstruction.'"
"Sounds like you don't think you're problem stock,"
someone sneered. "If you weren't always thinking about running, you wouldn't be wearing that thing."
Wei followed the voice
and noticed the iron shackles on Minnow's ankles.
They were cold and heavy.
The metal rings dug red marks into his skin.
The chain dragged along the floor, carving a pale gray line into the dirt.
Wei frowned. "Why do you have shackles? No one else does."
As soon as he spoke,
a boy beside him clicked his tongue.
"He brought it on himself.
Too restless. Thinks too much. Won't follow the rules."
"Exactly,"
another added. "Those are the dangerous ones."
Hua, a boy gnawing on a sweet potato, almost choked. He swallowed hard and cut in,
"The real reason? No crime at all. He's just too good-looking."
Wei: "…"
Hua swung his legs smugly. "You don't get it? That's called high-value property. Iron-Throat loves pretty ones—fetches a good price."
"Iron-Throat?"
Wei asked.
The moment the name left his mouth,
the shed went quiet.
No one answered.
Someone glanced up at the roof,
as if checking whether they were being recorded.
The firelight flickered.
Dimmed.
Minnow raised his head.
His eyes were cold.
So cold they didn't seem to be looking at Wei at all,
but at something that had already happened.
"Can you eat it?"
he asked, changing the subject.
No one said the name again.
Wei thought for a moment.
"I think I once got lost in the forest and survived for days eating whatever I could find in animal droppings. This stuff isn't much different."
Hua curled his lip. "You might not believe this—we still have to pay for meals."
Wei: "???"
He couldn't imagine paying for something like this.
Minnow sighed softly.
"At first, food was free.
Then, little by little,
they started deducting meal costs from our labor."
"Isn't that fair?"
A boy frowned, genuinely puzzled. "If you don't work and take up space, why should you eat?"
As he spoke,
he cradled his sour paste like a reward.
"Being alive is already good enough."
Wei shook his head. "If you look for food yourself, people don't just starve to death—"
"Starving to death here isn't hard at all," Hua said.
"The rule is simple: only those who survive deserve food."
Minnow added quietly,
"If someone breaks the rules…"
He paused.
"They get assigned compensatory tasks."
Wei looked blank. "'Compensatory tasks'?"
No one explained.
Because everyone already knew.
The air tightened.
"Shut up."
"What are you trying to say?"
This time,
it wasn't the guards.
The boys themselves lowered their voices.
For the first time, Hua wasn't smiling. His face looked darker under the night light.
"Don't ask. Ask too much… and you won't live long."
Wei clenched his fist. He didn't know who to believe.
He was about to ask again
when footsteps came from outside.
Not heavy.
Not rushed.
But precise.
Each step landed in the same rhythm.
No one spoke.
Even swallowing stopped.
Wei realized something—
They weren't listening to the footsteps.
The footsteps were listening
to see if they made any sound.
A shadow fell across the doorway.
Wide.
Still.
As if counting.
One.
Two.
Three.
Someone's breathing slipped.
Only then did the shadow move.
"Number thirty-seven,"
a low voice said.
"Come out for inspection."
The voice wasn't loud.
But there was no room for refusal.
A boy stood up straight.
As if he'd been taught long ago
how to stand when being taken away.
But his head stayed lowered,
as though being seen meant being remembered.
Not long after,
the sound of a whip striking flesh and a scream rose from somewhere nearby.
Wei didn't move.
But his hand tightened around his weapon without him noticing.
The other boys in the shed let out a collective breath.
Several collapsed where they sat, legs so weak they could barely stand.
Hua wiped sweat from his forehead.
"Must've been caught dumping his food."
Only Minnow lifted his head, staring toward where the shadow had vanished.
His gaze was cold enough to freeze the night.
Silence swept through the shed.
And Wei finally understood—
The fear that had nearly suffocated everyone just now
wasn't because Iron-Throat had appeared.
That was only a guard.
Just a normal guard.
So what would it be like
when Iron-Throat truly appeared?
No one dared say.
No one dared imagine.
Night wind slipped through the cracks, carrying a faint metallic chill.
In the corner of the shed, a broken length of chain swayed gently.
Clink—
A soft sound.
Like someone far away tapping on an iron coffin.
Wei's spine went cold, inch by inch.
And he realized—
The world he had woken into
was only the entrance to hell.