"Any good news?"
Groom.
"No, ma'am… it seems we have no other option."
"I thought so. Who would volunteer to be a test subject for money in a world that's ending? But... of course, I was hoping someone would. No matter."
Rime's voice was calm, but her disappointment was clear.
Their lab had been tasked with creating a weapon to fight the Necrosang. They were chosen for this mission because of their experience in bio-fusion, but without the proper resources—even the best minds are helpless. They were given a week to prepare. Yet three days had already passed, and no volunteers had come forward, despite the ridiculous amount of money offered.
Rime, the vice-head of the lab and the chief assistant to the lead researcher, hated this situation. But she hadn't placed all her hopes on luck. She was prepared.
"We'll have to do it our way."
"It seems so, ma'am."
"How many backups do we have?"
"Eight for Type-1. Nine for Type-2."
For the first time in days, a smile bloomed on Rime's face—sweet, yet disturbingly sinister.
"Prepare them by dawn. Begin the procedure as soon as I arrive."
The people in the room all exchanged dark glances. The room grew colder, as if the moonlight seeping in had turned sharp.
Just then, a junior researcher knocked and entered with a troubled look.
"Hmm? What is it?" one of the seniors asked, clearly irritated.
"An intruder was caught sneaking in, sirs."
Surprise flickered across their faces. Security was tight—who would even try to break into a lab during an apocalypse? It wasn't like they held the antidote to this crisis. Even the top organizations had failed.
But the surprise quickly turned to anger.
"You interrupted our meeting for that? Did a Necrosang eat your brain?"
The others nodded, sharing the sentiment.
"That's not the issue, seniors. He found out about Project 'NECROMANCER.'"
"!!" "!!" "!!!!"
"WHAT?!"
Rime, who had remained quiet, suddenly reacted. The atmosphere turned tense. The senior researchers stared at each other in silence, seemingly exchanging thoughts without words. Then they all nodded in agreement.
Finally, Rime spoke, her voice as cold as death:
"Lock him up. Don't damage him. Add him to the Type-2 test."
Her face was frozen, but her eyes trembled like a storm. A slow grin spread across her lips.
"Blame your bad luck, not me."
The others didn't speak. Only the junior responded:
"Yes, madam. We'll do as you say... Oh! And one more thing. A volunteer showed up. For Type-2."
Rime raised an eyebrow.
"Really? That's… surprising. Didn't expect that. Let him in, and send the money to his account."
"He didn't provide contact info. Said he doesn't have any. Refused the money too."
"Oh, wow. Humanity still has sparks, huh? Good to know. Let him be. It's his choice, after all."
"Understood, ma'am."
The junior researcher left, unaware of the mistake he'd just made.
The others resumed their discussion, unaware of what they'd ignored.
And Rime had no idea what her order would bring.
By the time they realized it... it would be far too late.
---
1 DAY AGO – Moonlit Resolve
"There's no point… it all feels useless…"
A boy in his early twenties, with black hair and bleak, empty eyes, sat alone on a bench in a dead park. His gaze was hollow—alive, yet lifeless. Devastated.
But in this world, that was no longer rare.
This was the outskirts of Necroland, once known as the city of Shiraj. Now it was a graveyard where the Necrosangs roamed freely—a death zone with no hope.
The boy sat beneath the glowing moon, its silver light soaking his skin.
"I don't want this… Why can't I just live in peace? It wouldn't matter if I disappeared."
His words carried no rage, no sadness. Just… nothing.
"Is salvation really that unreachable? Is there nothing left to save me?"
He looked around, lost in thought.
Then, he saw the moon and remembered his old habit, he murmured:
"Oh… you look beautiful… I've always loved beautiful things. The ones I could reach… and the ones I never could. I adored them all. Especially you. You were the most unreachable. And the most adored..."
Before he could say more, a torn piece of newspaper flew onto his face, momentarily blocking the moonlight. He grabbed it, glanced at it, then tossed it aside. Another article about the lab's "last hope"—the experiment.
He had seen too many of these. All meaningless.
But something about this one… this timing…
As the paper fluttered to the ground, fireflies began to appear.
He was so blissful about it.
But something felt unnatural about it...
He blinked in surprise.
They danced around him, glowing softly, moving in strange patterns. Then, as if on cue, they circled around the paper he had discarded.
He watched them, eyes wide for the first time in forever. He reached out, and one landed on his hand… then rejoined the others, flying in a specific direction.
He followed their path with his gaze—then smiled gently.
"...I guess the moon really is guiding me."
The fireflies' glow dimmed, or maybe the moon simply shined brighter.
He stood up, stepping forward toward a fate unknown… or perhaps one written in the stars.
---
BEFORE THE LAB MEETING – Arrival
Step. Step.
"Halt. State your business."
The boy handed the guard a crumpled newspaper, pointing to the article.
The guards exchanged glances.
They stepped aside without a word.
The boy entered the lab.
To his forge.
Guided by the moon.
Toward an unknown fate…
or one written long before he was ever born.