Long ago, a scrawny, tiny little boy entered the room next to the laboratory where Ascan stayed.

Countless children had come and gone at intervals of several days, so Ascan had never cared who stayed in the adjacent room.

But this child was different. He couldn’t ignore him even if he wanted to—because the boy talked far too much.

—Hyung, how long have you been here?

Ascan couldn’t remember.

All of Ascan’s memories were tied to the laboratory.

He could only guess that he had probably been here since he was a newborn.

—Wow, so you’ve lived here for a really long time, haven’t you?

The boy asked question after question, seemingly insatiable in his curiosity.

Ascan barely answered, yet the boy’s chatter never ceased.

—I’m waiting here because Mom promised she’d come get me once things got better for her.

The moment he heard that, Ascan immediately understood.

Ah, he’s been abandoned.

Though Ascan had no memories of his own parents, staying here long enough taught him at least that much.

Most children in the laboratory were like this—either orphans with no parents, or children sold by impoverished families.

The boy, known as Subject 1890.

His story wasn’t particularly special.

What set him apart was that, unlike others, he didn’t cry every night denying reality—he genuinely waited, believing his parents would come.

—Hyung, do you know how to write letters?

Ascan, having survived long in the laboratory, had undergone intelligence tests. Thanks to that, he could not only read and write but also possessed some specialized knowledge.

—Could you teach me how to write letters too? I want to show off to Mom when I see her again.

In one word, he was an extremely bothersome child.

Whenever the boy pestered him, Ascan would cover his ears and lie down on his bed.

After all, the boy’s parents would never come.

He didn’t want to shatter the boy’s sweet dream by forcing reality upon him, but he also didn’t want to humor his ridiculous delusions.

Yet no matter how firmly Ascan built his walls, the boy followed him everywhere, beaming as if there was something wonderful about trailing after him.

Perhaps because of that?

At some point, Ascan began to notice him.

Maybe this was what people commonly called “affection.”

The boy endured quite a long time in the adjacent room.

By the time Ascan had unknowingly grown accustomed to the boy’s incessant chatter,

One night, he discovered the boy secretly coughing up blood.

He instantly recognized it as a side effect of the experiments—he knew children who coughed up blood like this would disappear soon after.

—Hyung, please keep it a secret from the men. If they find out I coughed up blood, they might kick me out. I have to wait here until Mom comes, no matter what.

The boy was foolishly innocent.

No matter how long he waited, his parents would never come for him. And even if Ascan tried to hide it, it wasn’t something that could be concealed.

As time passed, the boy’s already small and thin face grew unmistakably sickly.

Watching him, Ascan felt an inexplicable surge of anger.

He needed medicine.

Even if the boy wouldn’t live much longer…

He wanted to get at least some medicine to ease his suffering.

But no matter how loudly Ascan screamed or how wildly he raged, no one listened.

No one gave the boy even a single painkiller.

Though he thought he’d grown used to it, deep inside, rebellion boiled within him.

They used hundreds, thousands of experimental drugs—yet refused to give even one common painkiller, simply because the boy’s life wasn’t worth even that much.

Everyone’s interest lay solely in the results of the human weapon experiments—not in those dying like lab rats.

On the day the boy coughed up an unusually large amount of blood, he was dragged back into the laboratory again.

Instinctively, Ascan knew—if the boy was taken now, he’d never return.

The boy probably understood his own condition well too.

—Hyung! Hyung! I don’t want to go! Save me!

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Ascan pounded the door with all his strength, screaming.

Don’t take him.

He doesn’t want to go!

It was the first time in his life he had ever screamed so loudly.

He knew burly men would soon arrive with sedatives and beat him, but he couldn’t just stand by anymore.

Perhaps because of his frantic commotion?

The researcher dragging the boy away wore an expression of clear irritation.

—What’s this nonsense about friendship? Do you even understand your situation? Let me make it perfectly clear for you.

Though Ascan couldn’t know exactly what the researcher was thinking, one thing was certain.

He knew exactly how to ensure Ascan would never cause trouble again.

—Listen carefully, Subject 1890. There’s only one way you can avoid the experiment.

The researcher stared directly at the boy and pointed his finger at Ascan.

—Let Subject 13 take your experiment instead.

In that instant, the boy’s eyes changed.

His despairing expression brightened as if by magic.

No one needed to explain—he understood. The boy felt relieved knowing Ascan would go to hell in his place.

Intellectually, Ascan understood—but emotionally, it stirred something complicated within him.

If the researcher had asked Ascan the same question, he would have answered without hesitation: he’d take the experiment for the boy.

But seeing the boy happily accept this situation felt somehow wrong.

Ascan wanted to save the boy from hell, but the boy was willing to throw Ascan into hell if it meant his own salvation.

The difference was painfully clear.

His stomach twisted.

The researcher’s intention was obvious—to put an end to their pointless emotional games.

Looking at Ascan, standing silently, the researcher sneered.

He didn’t speak, but his expression alone conveyed everything.

See? This is all your “friendship” amounts to.

Ascan felt as if icy water had been dumped over him.

—Hyung, Hyung. You’ll go in my place, right? Please… I’m weaker than you.

The boy would sell out anyone to avoid his own suffering—even Ascan, who had helped him all this time.

He thought he understood…

Ascan realized once again.

The world was alone.

No one would ever hold Ascan’s hand and walk with him into hell.

Frustratingly, the researcher’s calculation proved accurate. Ascan knew he could never treat the boy the same way again.

Throughout the experiment he took in the boy’s place, he kept wondering what face he’d wear next time he saw him. But it was a useless worry.

When he returned, the boy was already a cold corpse.

It was an utterly hollow ending.

‘Was it all just for this…?’

Knowing the boy couldn’t survive even one more day—was that why he begged Ascan to take his place?

Ascan could only stare blankly as the boy’s body was discarded like trash.

He didn’t feel sad. His heart had simply frozen over, cold and numb.

Truthfully, Ascan’s future wasn’t much different from the boy’s. Only the order differed—someday, he too would die during an experiment.

He hadn’t been born because he wanted to live. He merely breathed because he was alive.

He’d always thought dying anytime was fine—he had no attachment to life…

—They told me my child is here. Please, I beg you, please help me find my child.

The moment Ascan accidentally saw a pale-faced woman pleading with a guard, the world he thought he knew collapsed.

—What?! How did she even find this place?! Get this woman out of here immediately!

The woman, being dragged away roughly, likely wouldn’t leave here unharmed. She must have known the risks when she came.

High walls, countless guards.

Even if she didn’t know exactly what this place was, anyone could tell it wasn’t ordinary.

He’d never asked—where the boy came from, his name, his age.

He only knew he was called Subject 1890—so even if these were the very parents the boy had waited for, Ascan wouldn’t have recognized them.

Until now, he’d taken it for granted. Since no one ever came looking, everyone must have been abandoned.

He never knew for sure if the woman he saw was truly Subject 1890’s parent—but perhaps the children he thought were all in the same situation weren’t.

He’d thought everyone was alone—but maybe, in truth, only Ascan had been the loner.

He’d thought the boy was foolish—but looking back, Ascan himself had never held even one name to call out in his final moments.

He was utterly, painfully alone.

He’d believed humans were selfish—that even family would use and discard each other when necessary. But realizing that might not be true, for the first time, he no longer wanted to die here.

‘Could anyone else ever risk their life for me like that?’

He’d never received affection, and kindness he’d shown had never been returned.

To him, emotions were as unreal as fairy tales he’d read only to learn letters.

But after seeing the woman who came searching for her child, he began to feel curious about the outside world for the first time.

The cold laboratory had been Ascan’s entire world—but stepping outside, perhaps another world awaited.

Hope.

That emotion, which he’d never felt before, began to sprout in his heart.

Rather than die here in the lab, he decided to make one final, desperate struggle—his first and last.

From the moment he resolved to escape, nothing seemed difficult. Even if he failed, he had nothing to lose—he owned nothing to begin with.

Later, he succeeded in his life-risking escape—but the world he saw outside wasn’t much different from inside the laboratory.

—That boy’s just wearing ragged clothes—he might not even be a real slave. Is it okay to sell him like this?

—Don’t waste energy worrying about nonsense. What’s it to us? We just need to get paid.

The people who seized the collapsed Ascan as a slave and profited from him.

—Him? The slave Lady Tanashia Brellof constantly torments?

—Yeah. Don’t accidentally make eye contact. Getting entangled with him will only give us headaches.

Not one person in House Brellof ever extended a helping hand to Ascan.

No one cared about the stranger Ascan. Even outside the laboratory, he remained utterly alone.

‘…Ah, has anything really changed since then?’

Suddenly, Tanashia Brellof came to mind.

For some reason, recently, she’d been unusually kind to him.

Unknowingly lost in memories of the past, Ascan was startled when Edgar grabbed his arm and shook it, pointing up at a tree.

“Look! Look!”

Following Edgar’s finger, Ascan saw delicious-looking fruit hanging from the branches.

“You want to eat that?”

“Yeah yeah!”

Ascan effortlessly lifted Edgar up so he could pick the fruit himself.

The moment Edgar’s body floated into the air, he burst into gleeful laughter.

Perhaps because they were around the same age—once again, Edgar’s face overlapped with that of Subject 1890.

—Hyung, Hyung!

If Subject 1890 had lived until now, he’d be much older than Edgar. But that sight was forever lost to him.

He didn’t particularly miss Subject 1890—it was more a sense of sorrow for how inevitably the boy had met his end.

Tap tap tap—suddenly, footsteps rapidly approaching made Ascan turn his head. He saw Rella, Edgar’s mother, running toward them.

Though she’d left Edgar briefly with Ascan, she clearly still worried—running instead of walking proved that.

Ascan gently set Edgar down and murmured softly,

“Be good to your mom.”

“Huh?”

Edgar didn’t yet understand—but not everyone received parental love as a given.

Instead of explaining, Ascan simply placed his hand lightly on young Edgar’s head.

As Rella drew near, Edgar immediately ran toward her.

“Moooom—!”

Rella embraced Edgar and turned to Ascan with gratitude.

“Thank you for watching my child, Ascan.”

“You’re welcome.”

“If you ever need my help later, just say so. I’ll help you too.”

“Understood.”

“Well then, we’ll be off. See you later.”

Rella took little Edgar’s hand and walked away somewhere.

Ascan quietly watched their retreating figures. Even to his eyes, the tender sight of mother and child looked beautiful.

‘Could I ever be like that?’

A relationship where he could receive affection—and return it.

He wanted to meet someone whose care wouldn’t change based on circumstances or personal gain.

Heh—unconsciously, Ascan let out a self-mocking smile.

It was ridiculous—he’d never received such affection, yet he was vaguely dreaming of it.

Ascan tore his gaze away from Rella and Edgar’s backs and began walking toward Tanashia Brellof’s room, his original destination.

Knock knock—as he reached the door and knocked, Tanashia Brellof’s voice came from inside.

“Come in.”

After receiving permission and opening the door, he noticed the room’s atmosphere was different from usual.

Tanashia Brellof was surrounded by countless books. They were piled so high her figure was barely visible.

Though curious about what all this was, Ascan didn’t ask. Only the chosen few could voice the questions forming in their minds.

“I heard you summoned me.”

“Ah, yes. You’re later than I expected.”

Tanashia Brellof closed the book she’d been reading with a snap and stood up. Only then could he see her face—beautiful and haughty as a sculpture carved from ice.

Her bright blue eyes sparkled with determination as she continued.

“I called you because I have something to say.”

“Yes, please speak.”

“I’ve decided on my path.”

“Your path?”

“I’m going to create weapons. The most powerful weapons in the world.”

Ascan couldn’t understand what Tanashia Brellof was suddenly talking about.

It was strange enough for a noble lady to develop weapons—but why desire the world’s most powerful weapons if she wasn’t planning to conquer the continent?

Yet again, Ascan didn’t ask. He only wondered why she had summoned him.

“Have you assigned me a task?”

“No, I’m giving you a progress report.”

“Ah?”

“You don’t understand yet, but this is for our happy future together. Remember? I told you I’d execute the ‘Live Happily Ever After’ project. This is part of that process.”

Honestly, whatever it was, Ascan’s opinion didn’t matter. As her slave, he had to obey Tanashia Brellof’s orders unconditionally, regardless of his own will.

But lately, Tanashia Brellof had begun explaining things to him in detail. Though much of what she said was incomprehensible, it felt as if she respected his opinion.

It was strange. No one had ever asked for—or cared about—his thoughts before.

“I was the one who first suggested we travel, but because of this, we’ll need to postpone it slightly—just so you know.”

“Ah, yes.”

“Dinner time is soon. I still have a bit of material to review—could you sit there and wait for a moment?”

“Understood.”

Without a word, Ascan walked to the spot Tanashia Brellof indicated.

She resumed reading her book. Though unintentional, from where he sat, he had a perfect view of her absorbed expression.

Her focused blue eyes, her deeply thoughtful face, even the gesture of tucking her flowing hair behind her ear.

Unaware, Ascan realized—for this moment, none of the memories from the old laboratory surfaced.

Subject 1890, the reason he’d escaped the lab, what he’d hoped to find out here.

Everything felt distant.

When had it started? Without realizing it, all his attention had become fixed on Tanashia Brellof, turning the pages before her.