1 Monster (1)

A few steps ahead lay a fork in the corridor; the walls, cast in flickering light, seemed veiled in a layer of moss. The faint, elusive scent of dampness spread with it. From the right passage surged a thick, metallic stench, the long hallway swallowed by the darkness at its end. The unstable power supply made the lights flicker erratically—a common occurrence.

Xue Ning closed her eyes, heavy with exhaustion. In truth, she’d always slept well, but the recent deluge of tasks left her sorely lacking in rest.

As the dying bulb trembled back to life, she turned without hesitation into the corridor on her left. This passageway smelled faintly odd, but the air was much cleaner, and the floor was spotless. Stifling a yawn behind her sleeve, Xue Ning planned to finish her errand quickly, then find a quiet corner for a nap.

Yet, the deeper she ventured, the more a strange familiarity crept over her—like a splash of cold water to the face, banishing the last vestiges of sleep. The walls were coated thickly with slick moss, and the clammy, fishy odor assaulted her nose unbidden. Xue Ning sighed inwardly, realizing she must have taken a wrong turn.

Then, with a brittle pop, the cheap bulb overhead burned out, surrendering the corridor to darkness.

…No matter, she thought. Bolstering her resolve, she steadied her grip on the tray, trying to orient herself to retrace her steps. She knew this route well; only a few days before, she had come often to care for the test subject in Room 01 at the corridor’s end. But once a new subject had been developed, she’d been reassigned elsewhere.

“Surely they can afford to replace a lightbulb,” Xue Ning thought grimly, making a mental note to bring it up with the lab. She turned, heading back the way she came, but stopped short—something blocked her path. A chill brushed her face.

Perhaps it was a wall. Unfazed, she nudged forward with the tray’s edge and felt the surface—yes, a wall. She blinked, her eyes swallowed by the dark.

Suddenly, the silence was torn apart by the rattle of chains.

Xue Ning’s face remained calm, but her heart raced. She dared not move, facing the wall, each second stretching on. It felt like a punishment, standing there. Just as she prepared to step away, her heel sank into something slick as a bog.

The floor had grown wet and slimy.

Instinctively, Xue Ning hopped forward. This lab was built cheaply—rumor had it, its blueprint was an old prison, which meant every room was separated only by iron bars. The test subjects were all chained to prevent attacks, but in darkness, even knowing this, it was unsettling.

The strange sensation had come from behind her—from the sticky, viscous residue unique to the subject in Room 01. That meant behind her was the lab, in front, the wall. She had chosen correctly.

But she’d misjudged the distance. In an instant, everything changed.

A slender, powerful tail coiled tightly around her waist, yanking her forcibly toward the iron bars, pressing the cold metal against her exposed skin through the protective suit.

She stifled a scream with sheer will. The tray clattered to the ground, echoing sharply—perhaps loud enough for a nearby researcher to hear.

Click.

Nothing improved.

Despair loomed. Xue Ning had only ever approached the subject in Room 01 after administering a sedative—without it, she never dared get close. She’d always known that this subject wasn’t as dull as he appeared. He was shrewd—cunning, even.

Under the tail’s control, her wrist was forced onto the fingerprint scanner. The bars pressing into her face began to withdraw with a slow, grinding sound, her heartbeat thundering in her chest.

It felt like a feast was about to begin—and unfortunately, she seemed to be the main course, a banquet reserved for the test subject alone.

Inside, the floor was slicker than the corridor, coated in sticky fluid. By the faint, sudden glow from afar, Xue Ning saw the true situation.

The subject’s limbs were shackled tightly by iron chains. He hadn’t broken free, but his long tail was wound around her waist, dragging her with irresistible strength to his corner.

She could now see clearly. If only the lights had come on a second earlier, she might not have ended up like this. Dragged along the floor, she was smeared with the subject’s viscous, faintly sweet-smelling secretion—different from the brine of fish, almost transparent, with an odd hint of perfume.

“I… I’m not sure if you remember me. I’m your assistant. I brought you food just a few days ago. If you’re hungry, let me go and I’ll bring you something, all right?”

She stayed prone, barely moving, terrified that the slightest twitch would trigger an aggressive reaction.

The test subject was a fusion of genes. Her current assignment involved a new subject who still retained human consciousness.

Although she’d worked with Room 01 for months, she’d never spoken with him. But what if—what if he understood? She might still have a chance.

The subject stirred. Chains clinked as he moved, and in a blink, he was face-to-face with her. Before she could react, his arms pinned her in the corner.

Xue Ning’s face went pale. This was her first close encounter with a test subject. She felt his gaze upon her—cold as the viscous slime on the floor, sliding over every inch of her skin, sending shudders down her spine.

This subject was the most mutated of all. Unlike others who resembled humans, his body was covered in neat, delicate scales. From a distance, he looked normal, save for his darker complexion.

His physique was powerful. The muscles of his arms pressed her immobile, giving her the chilling sense that escape meant certain death.

His waist tapered with the grace of an athlete, but a long, slender tail extended from his spine.

It was impossible not to think of a giant python lurking in a swamp.

That tail, so like a serpent’s, now slid slowly across the exposed skin of her face. The transparent secretion left behind felt cool—like a fresh gel mask. If not for the danger, Xue Ning might have even found it refreshing.

The subject’s pupils glimmered a shattered crimson—like splattered blood. His features were sharply human: severe brows, a straight nose, lips parting to reveal two sharp teeth, almost playful if not for the menace. Gaunt cheeks, too—making it hard not to think of him as someone who once had a mind.

She tried to coax him, “You must remember me. I always nap nearby—we’ve known each other a long time. If you let me go, I’ll get you whatever you want, all right?”

His answer was to open his mouth. His tongue slid out—blood-red, streaked with visible veins.

Xue Ning’s head rang with terror. The smile she forced was as fragile as a candle flame in a draft, trembling on the edge of collapse.

But then, unexpectedly, he lifted her arm, his rough palm stroking the sleeve. Suddenly, with a burst of strength, he tore open her protective suit and its lining beneath.

He bent his head to her wrist. His tongue, coated in slick mucus, left a trail from her skin to the floor, mingling with the puddles with a soft splat.

Slowly, Xue Ning edged toward the corner. At the sound, the subject’s head snapped up, his gaze locking onto her. Panic flared—yet she managed, with automatic steadiness born of danger, to raise her lips in a gentle smile, her eyes crescented. In the gloom, her dark pupils hid terror and desperate pleading.

The subject went still, blood vessels spreading across his eyes. The tail that bound her loosened, flicking twice against the floor. She couldn’t read his intent, but her heart leaped to her throat. Under the weight of his silent oppression, she bit her tongue hard, the pain snapping her briefly out of panic.

She sprang up and slammed her palm onto the red button protruding from the corner.

Every researcher—every assistant—knew this was a survival button. Few ever used it, not because the subjects were safe, but because anyone caught by a test subject rarely lived long enough to press it.

When a subject lost consciousness, he became a beast ruled by hunger, snapping a victim’s neck in an instant before devouring them.

A surge of electricity shot through the chains, jolting the subject’s entire body. His tail went rigid, then collapsed like a dead fish. He curled up on the ground, long limbs drawn tight, bloodshot eyes staring at Xue Ning like a dense web.

She stepped back, pressing against the wall, and only when her senses returned did she flee.

“Hello, is this security? I just had an incident—the subject from Room 01 dragged me inside. Yes, I’m not lying. I’m still alive. I pressed the emergency button and I’m safe now. Please come handle it.” Hanging up, Xue Ning exhaled shakily and left the corridor.

The darkness echoed with the subject’s ragged breathing. The shock and pain in his eyes lingered in her mind, leaving her with the odd sense that she’d hurt him.

She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing the thought away. Her wrist was scraped and smeared with the subject’s saliva. She needed to get to the infirmary quickly—just in case she’d been exposed to something dangerous.