He pushed open the heavy containment door again. The hinge gave a faint creak—barely audible.
Inside, the scene was identical to last time: that strange ring-shaped portal, radiating a soft and unstable halo, still floated silently at the center of the unit as if it had always been there.
But this time, the air was filled only with deathly quiet. The gentle voice that had once echoed in his mind did not appear.
X stood in the doorway, eyes fixed on the portal.
Its light brightened and dimmed. Its edges rippled slightly—like a lake surface disturbed by wind, reflecting the faint glow of an unknown world.
"Alright,"
X murmured.
It was less self-encouragement than a final decision.
"If you show up in my dream again and again, then let me see what exactly lies beyond you."
His eyes sharpened. No more hesitation.
X stepped forward and reached out with his right hand. A tremor ran through his fingertips—so small it was almost imperceptible—yet he still pressed on, touching the glowing surface: seemingly intangible, yet strangely resistant.
—
The moment his finger met the portal, light exploded across his vision—expanding, fracturing, twisting—like the whole world had been thrown into a rapidly spinning kaleidoscope.
All color in his sight blended, stretched, warped into abstract patterns beyond comprehension.
A surge of white light swallowed him whole. X shut his eyes tightly, feeling as though an invisible force was dragging him through a narrow, distorted passage.
The violent weightlessness and dizziness lasted only a moment—then vanished.
When he felt solid ground beneath his feet again, and the blinding light slowly receded, X finally opened his eyes—carefully.
The world had changed completely.
He still seemed to be inside a containment space, but its structure and atmosphere were nothing like before.
The walls were cracked and broken, mottled and scarred—as though they had been eroded by time itself.
The air stank of dust and rotting wood, and of a suffocating, eternal silence.
Through the holes in the walls, he could clearly see outside—
Enormous, pallid tree branches, impossibly vast, rose around the facility like the bones of a giant from ancient myth—silent, oppressive, looming in the background of the world.
Besides ruin, the space held many objects he had never seen in any company record or surveillance feed.
Broken stone statues. Faded fragments of murals. Shattered prayer benches…
Everything carried the heavy aura of an ancient religion, filling the space with a desolate, sacred atmosphere—like a monastery abandoned for centuries.
And in the center of this monastery-like ruin, something seized all of X's attention:
A lone, old-fashioned wooden chair. And a figure sitting quietly upon it.
A white-haired woman.
Her hair was as pale and smooth as fresh snow, falling to her shoulders. She wore a slightly aged but tidy nun's habit. Her hands rested folded on her lap, holding a small, delicate cross.
Most striking of all was the crown upon her head—woven from dry, withered thorns.
Her eyes were closed. Her expression serene, as if she were asleep—forming a strange, tragic beauty against the ruined backdrop.
As if she had long known he would arrive, she showed no surprise at his intrusion.
Slowly, she opened her eyes.
Golden—pure and clear, like Angela's.
Yet the emotion within them was deeper… more mournful, more compassionate.
"You're here."
She looked at X and let a gentle smile touch her lips, as if she had been waiting a long time.
"You know me?"
X took half a step back, astonishment and wariness surging together.
He could find no trace of her in his memory, yet her tone was like she was greeting an old acquaintance.
"Yes."
She nodded lightly, her golden eyes calm—almost as if they could see through him.
"Last time, I sensed your presence here."
"Back then your aura was faint… but now that I've seen you with my own eyes, I can be certain: the one who paused outside the door yesterday, carrying confusion and curiosity, was you."
"Yesterday…?"
X recalled the sentence he had heard at the door, and how he had backed away in the end.
"I was outside that containment unit… for a while. I heard your voice."
His eyes studied her carefully, trying to match her to the vague image of the Abnormality in his mind—white hair, nun's habit, thorn crown, cross… the clues pointed toward a single answer.
"So…"
X asked cautiously.
"Are you truly the one designated O-03-03—One Sin and Hundreds of Good Deeds?"
"'One Sin and Hundreds of Good Deeds'…?"
She murmured the name softly, as if tasting a label both unfamiliar and oddly reminiscent.
"So that's what the children who care for me outside… the children in the daylight… call me…"
She didn't answer immediately. Instead, she raised her gaze and met X's eyes again—calm and accepting beyond anything human.
A small smile returned.
"If that is what you call me, then yes. I am the one you call 'One Sin and Hundreds of Good Deeds.'"
"Hah…"
Hearing her admit her identity so openly, the tension in X's chest eased slightly.
So even in this so-called "inside" Lobotomy Corporation, the beings tied to each containment unit were still the Abnormalities recorded in the "outside" world.
At least the core "individual" was the same.
More importantly, in this strange place, he seemed able to speak with them directly—truly converse.
That might be a perfect chance to understand their essence, to try more aggressive interaction, to dig deeper.
He might even—like employees—strengthen his own parameters through these exchanges.
But as one question found an answer and X began to feel a fraction steadier, another, colder question clamped down on his heart.
If…
If everything here was this real—if even Abnormalities could exist in such concrete form and speak with him like this…
Then were the rules of this world equally "real"?
If he was injured here, in this "inside world," in an Abnormality's "domain"…
If he died…
What would happen to him?
Would he wake up like from a dream—untouched?
Or would he… remain here forever?
-------
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