Volume 1 - Top-Tier Character Ayanokōji-kun [DISCONTINUED] [READ THE REVISION]

Chapter 16 - Broken Bond

The boy always followed the protocol. He never stepped out of line. After all, it would cause unimaginable punishment unto his body and mind.

In the world of blank, he wasn't the only being forced to undergo this procedure. 

No. There were many more unfortunate souls who fell into the void. Forever captured—no hope of return.

The protocol stated that any unnecessary interaction or contact between the subjects is strictly prohibited.

No one knew each other's name. Each other's faces. Voices. Interests. Likes. Dislikes.

Each and every single one was given a way of identification.

D046. That was the boy's.

Every innocent being was grouped together into statistics which held value in the eyes of the overseer—naïve beliefs and fragile aspects like feelings and emotion were deemed unnecessary.

They were cut away. The overseer made sure to eradicate anything that did not fit into his ideology—anything that did not further his goals.

But he had made a fatal mistake. One that would eventually crush his lifelong ambition.

He didn't eradicate the boy's curiosity.

He didn't let the boy see anything besides the world he created.

D046 wasn't stupid. In fact, he was the overseer's Opus Magnum. The crystallization of his efforts.

The boy realized there was a world outside the walls he knew. Outside the prison he was born in.

During his time, during his studies of all subjects, the boy had a thought.

It wasn't a thought. It was a wish.

Something he longed for.

He kept that wish through all his years.

It became bigger and bigger.

The boy felt alone. Isolated for many years.

He fell deeper and deeper into the gorge of solitude.

Crawling out was no option, for all the walls were smooth. You'd simply go back to the place where you were—the place you originally belonged to.

The boy had few chances to look at the other subjects. Every time he snuck a glance, he felt alone. Deeper and deeper it bore into him.

Seconds passed. Then Minutes. Hours. Days went by. Weeks. Years. Finally, more than a decade.

Each time one subject didn't take their seat, their place would stay empty the whole day.

A new morning arrived—it would be removed entirely.

Such were the ways of the boundaries of blank.