The sun was setting, casting a warm amber glow over the dusty field behind Lucy's home. She crouched in the tall grass, her breath coming in quick gasps. The metallic tang of blood clung to the air. Her hands trembled, coated in red.
Her mother’s body lay still on the ground behind her. The argument had escalated too quickly—yelling, accusations, and finally the knife. Lucy had acted without thinking, her only instinct to protect her younger sister.
“Run, Ceci,” she had whispered, dragging her sister through the back door. The two of them ran, barefoot and desperate, into the open countryside.
The world beyond their home was foreign to them. They had never ventured this far before, and every sound in the night seemed like a predator in pursuit. Exhausted and terrified, they stumbled onto a dark road lit only by the faint beams of the moon.
Ceci pointing at two distant lights barreling toward them.
Lucy had no time to answer. The roar of an oncoming car overwhelmed them, and in the blink of an eye, everything went black.
----------------------------------------
Blake stared up at the expanse of the sky, his face illuminated by the golden rays of the afternoon sun. Clouds drifted lazily across the horizon, and he imagined himself soaring through them, weightless and free.
He had always dreamed of flying. But dreams were costly, and his family’s meager income barely kept them afloat. Instead of paragliding lessons, Blake found himself at the cliffs outside town, watching the birds glide effortlessly on the wind.
“Maybe someday,” he murmured, clutching his sketchpad where he had drawn himself with wings spread wide.
But today, the cliff wasn’t empty. A group of rowdy boys had claimed the spot, their laughter echoing down the rocky slope. Blake tried to ignore them, staying at the edge to watch the sky.
“What’s a runt like you doing here?” one of them jeered, striding up behind him.
Blake turned to answer but never got the chance. A sharp shove sent him hurtling forward. The wind roared in his ears as he plummeted toward the jagged rocks below.
For a brief moment, he thought he had finally taken flight.
----------------------------------------
Red
A red-haired woman lay on the bed, dressed in clothes resembling those of porcelain dolls. Behind her, a long tube filled with blood connected to her body through a web of wires.
“Subject Ceci, come here,” Isolde commanded sharply. When the doll remained motionless, her lips curled in annoyance. “Oh, right. Deaf as a stone.”
She reached over, hoisting Ceci like a discarded mannequin, her multi-limbed apparatus making quick work of placing the doll into the tube. Wires slithered and latched onto Ceci’s body with mechanical precision.
“Careful with her,” Ravenwood muttered, watching from the corner of the room. His face twisted into an unreadable expression, one that sent a chill down Isolde’s spine.
“C'mon, crow, stop making that face,” Isolde snapped, flicking a switch on the console. “This doll reached the tenth mark, didn’t she?”
Ravenwood leaned closer to the glowing monitors, his glee barely contained. “Oh, she did. Tenth mark, flawless readings. Unlike the others, she didn’t fall apart... well, except Pomona.”
Isolde frowned, her fingers pausing mid-air. “Honestly, I don’t think this doll is Ceci.”
“What are you yammering about?” Ravenwood’s eyes narrowed. “The charts clearly state she’s Ceci.”
“No,” Isolde insisted, tapping the side of her temple. “It doesn’t add up. This one—she feels more like a projection.”
“A projection? Of what?” Ravenwood scoffed but leaned in. “Go on, amuse me.”
“Of Lucy’s sister,” Isolde said, her tone sharpening.
Ravenwood’s brow furrowed. “Now that you mention it...” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “You might be onto something. But if this isn’t Ceci, why do we have her alternative body?”
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.
“Prepared in advance,” Isolde explained curtly. “We knew anyone who died in Aureline might end up here. The new bodies already existed way before they are even born.”
“But we lack to know whose soul is who, we only rely on their memories.” Ravenwood tapped the console, looking intrigued. “We’ve got to figure out who she really is. Especially if she survives synchronization—she might be invaluable for future experiments.”
Isolde rolled her eyes. “Assuming she survives, she can't even talk because of the broken voice box” she muttered, her multiple limbs flipping switches and adjusting dials. Finally, she grasped the large lever at her side. “Let’s get this over with.”
The machinery roared to life, and the blood-filled tube began to glow faintly. As the synchronization process began, a piercing scream erupted from the tube.
“What the—” Dr. Elwes burst into the room, followed closely by Dr. Verdi. “Wasn’t the beta doll’s voice box broken?”
“It is broken,” Verdi replied, her eyes scanning the readings on the console. “I read the report myself.”
The room plunged into darkness.
“What now?” Ravenwood barked. In the pitch black, the tube began to emit an otherworldly cyan glow, bathing the room in an eerie light. The doll’s scream abruptly ceased.
When the lights flickered back on, the red-haired woman’s eyes were open. Her violet gaze settled on the four scientists standing before her, their expressions varying between confusion and awe.
“Ceci?” Elwes ventured cautiously. “Are you all right?”
The woman’s lips remained still.
“Come on, Ceci,” Elwes urged. “This body should have better sound canals. You can hear me, right? Even the voice box is intact.”
Still, the woman did not respond.
“What does the protocol say if the doll doesn’t answer?” Isolde asked dryly, breaking the tense silence.
The red-haired woman finally spoke, her voice meek but steady. “Where... am I?”
“You’re in Enlierau’s second synchronization chamber,” Ravenwood answered quickly, a note of excitement creeping into his tone. “You succeeded in the final test, Ceci.”
The woman frowned, her brows knitting in confusion. “Who is Ceci?”
Isolde’s lips curled into a smug grin. “Told you.”
Ravenwood’s eyes darted between the woman and the console. “If you’re not Ceci, then who are you?”
The woman hesitated, her gaze distant as if searching through fractured memories. “I , ah- ”. Her head aching.
“Then what is your name, fine lady?” Isolde asked, leaning closer. Her curiosity seemed genuine for once.
----------------------------------------
Voices echoed in her mind, soft yet haunting. They tugged at her thoughts like fleeting shadows, impossible to grasp but impossible to ignore.
----------------------------------------
She sat alone at the back of the classroom. Her desk was immaculate, her books perfectly aligned. A single piece of paper sat before her.
Whispers filled the room. Envy.
The classroom dissolved, replaced by the empty hallway. She stood before the trophy case, her reflection distorted in the glass.
----------------------------------------
A fireplace crackled with life, its orange glow illuminating the small, cozy room. On the mantelpiece sat a picture frame, its image indistinct but filled with vibrant colors.
“Promise me,” the blue-haired figure said, their tone uncharacteristically serious. “That -------- you'll ------------ ------- ----- ------- remember?"
The fire flickered violently, casting long, eerie shadows across the room. The warmth of their touch faded, leaving only the cold, hollow emptiness of the memory’s abrupt end.
----------------------------------------
The classroom returned in fragments. The laughter, sharp and biting. The smell of chalk dust. Her hands gripping the edges of her desk, trying to hold herself together.
The transition was jarring. She was standing in an empty apartment, the air heavy with silence. Dust coated the surfaces, and faint footprints marked the floor, leading nowhere.
The silence was deafening.
She reached for the window, her hand trembling. The view outside was familiar—a field of vegetables stretching to the horizon.
“You really like this view, don’t you?” the voice was teasing this time, playful.
She turned to see the figure leaning against the balcony rail, their blue hair catching the light of the setting sun. “Because it’s peaceful,” she replied softly.
“Peaceful?” They laughed, a sound so pure it made her heart ache. “You always say that. But you’re not looking at the fields.”
She blinked, confused. “What do you mean?”
The figure leaned closer, their breath warm against her ear. “You’re looking at me.”
Her face flushed, but before she could respond, the memory cracked, icy winds replacing the sunlit warmth.
----------------------------------------
The figure extended a hand toward her, their form shrouded in mist and shadows.
“...Mi...”
The voice was faint, as if coming from a distant shore.
“...ster...”
She reached out, her fingers trembling, desperate to bridge the gap.
“...M...ter...E...ck...”
The syllables broke apart, scattered like shards of glass.
Her chest tightened as she concentrated, fighting to hold onto the fragments.
“...Mis...ter...e...ri...c...k...”
The name came in pieces, a bittersweet melody she couldn’t complete.
----------------------------------------
Then back in the apartment with the light of the city reflected in her eyes she could not turn back.
----------------------------------------
"So what is your name, fine lady?" Isolde's voice cut through the haze, sharp and clear.
Her eyes focused, the present pulling her back with an unkind abruptness.
“Mysterika,” the red-haired woman replied, her voice steady but hollow.
Ravenwood clapped his hands together, his excitement palpable. “All right, Mysterika, you’ve much to explain—but not now. You’ll exit through that door, and we’ll continue with the others.”
She nodded, her feet moving on their own as the door hissed open. But as she crossed the threshold, the fragments of memory slowly being forgotten, only the incomprehensible name was the only thing she could remember .
Somewhere in the depths of her mind, she clung to that name, whispering like a prayer.
----------------------------------------
Sage and the others were drenched in cold sweat from the events that had just unfolded.
"Who was that?" a voice murmured from the crowd.
"Isn’t it Ceci’s turn?" another questioned, their words laced with unease.
Sage’s mind swirled, emotions fluttering and colliding as he struggled to grasp what was happening.
Elwes and Verdi reappeared, their expressions marked with uncertainty. Their silence only deepened Sage's confusion.
"Subject Lucas, enter," Verdi called.
"Subject Aria, enter."
"Subject Sage, enter."
----------------------------------------
The chamber loomed before him. He hesitated, the faint cyan glow of the tube reflected in his eyes.
"Where are the others?" Sage demanded, his voice sharp with worry.
"You’ll meet them soon behind that door," Isolde replied. Her tone was clinical, almost dismissive. "Assuming the world accepts you."
Sage's brow furrowed. "What was that scream earlier? It—it didn’t sound like an Ethnolunarian."
Isolde tilted her head, a strange smile playing on her lips. "Honestly? I have no idea. May Kadohara bless your soul."
Before he could protest further, she picked him up with mechanical precision, her multiple limbs moving fluidly. He felt himself being lowered into the tube, wires snaking toward his body.
The cold liquid enveloped him, and a strange calm overtook his senses. He closed his eyes as faint beeps and clicks echoed in the background.
And then, there was nothing.