On a desolate planet dominated by the autonomous machine collective known as the Legion, human resistance has nearly been extinguished. Amid the ruins, a beastkin girl named Gale survives as a lone sniper. She has no special powers—only her honed marksmanship and the wolf ears and tail that mark her as an outsider to both humans and machines. They call her the White Wolf, but even a wolf can be caged.
Captured by the Legion, Gale is sent to the Panopticon, a total-control facility governed by t
White Wolf's Collar - Walking the Dog
The cold sensation of the floor woke Gale.
No—saying she "woke" isn't quite right. She hadn't lost consciousness in the first place. It was just that, after being jostled inside that dim metal box for so long, her sense of time had gone numb.
The transport vehicle stopped. The hum of the drive system lowered, then faded completely.
*(We're here.)*
Gale braced herself. The numbness hadn't fully worn off yet. Her arms felt heavy as lead, and she couldn't muster any strength in her fingertips. Even so—she clenched her teeth and forced tension into her spine.
The rear hatch opened with a heavy metallic sound.
Cold air rushed in. The smell of the outside world—a sterile stench, a mix of rusted iron, oil, and a faint hint of disinfectant.
Beyond it, there was light.
The pale glow of fluorescent lamps. It reflected off countless metal surfaces, making her entire field of vision gleam coldly.
Gale narrowed her eyes.
It was an enormous space. The ceiling was high, and every wall was covered in gray alloy panels. Lenses of surveillance cameras, lined up in orderly rows, stared down at her like dark pupils. And—
They were moving.
Multi-jointed arms extending from the ceiling. Maintenance drones crawling along the walls. Cart-like transport units gliding across the floor. Everything was orderly, efficient, and utterly devoid of any consideration for human presence—a world of machines alone.
"The Panopticon."
The name she'd been told inside the transport vehicle resurfaced in her mind.
A completely sealed containment facility built by the Legion. This was its interior.
Gale's white wolf ears flattened unconsciously. Her beast's instincts understood: this was a cage with no escape.
—Just then.
The multi-jointed arms that had been waiting outside the vehicle all moved at once.
Four arms invaded through the hatch and seized Gale's body. Two on her shoulders, two on her legs. The cold sensation of metal seeped through her restraints and into her skin.
"...Don't touch me."
She growled. Baring her beast's fangs, she put all her strength into her muscles. But—with her body still partially numb, she couldn't even resist the pressure of the arms.
The arms silently lifted her and dragged her out of the vehicle.
The corridor was colder than she'd imagined.
The temperature was probably around eighteen degrees. Against her bare soles, the metal floor was freezing. The walls, the ceiling—everything was covered in the same grayish-white alloy panels, stretching on with sterile uniformity.
A low hum was always audible from somewhere. The sound of machinery driving, the rush of air through ventilation, the distant pulse of pumps—they all blended together, creating a monotonous dissonance.
Still restrained by the arms, Gale was carried down the corridor.
The lenses of the surveillance cameras turned to follow her movements. Red lamps blinked rhythmically, recording everything.
*(What is this place?)*
She ground her back teeth.
It wasn't like the ruins. It wasn't like a battlefield. Here—there was no trace of living things at all. Everything besides herself was machine.
Eventually, the arms stopped in front of a door.
Characters engraved beside the door—"C-07."
The metal door slid open sideways without a sound.
Inside was a small room, about three meters square. The walls were the same grayish-white panels. A thin mat was laid out on the floor. There was a waste disposal unit and a water spout in the corner, but nothing else. No windows. The only light source was the fluorescent lamp on the ceiling.
A cell.
The arms tossed her into the center of the room.
Gale tumbled onto the floor, hitting her shoulder. She tried to get up, enduring the pain—but.
At that moment, a new arm descended from the ceiling.
This one had a sharp blade at its tip.
Gale's eyes widened.
"—What are you—"
Before she could finish, the blade moved.
—*Shhk.*
With the first strike, her white shirt was slashed open from the back. The fabric fluttered to the floor.
"Stop...!"
She screamed and tried to thrash. But another arm immediately pinned her arms down. With her body still numb, she couldn't even struggle properly.
Second strike. Her black pleated skirt was severed and slid off her hips.
Third strike. Her black thigh-high socks were cut away.
In just a few dozen seconds, all her clothes had been stripped from her.
"—Nngh...!"
Gale bit her lip.
The humiliation of being exposed naked burned through her entire body. Her beast's ears pressed flat against her head, and her tail curled between her thighs. She hugged her knees, trying to curl her body as small as possible.
But the machines didn't wait.
The next arm brought something else.
It was shaped like clothing—but clearly not ordinary fabric. A gray garment. Its surface faintly reflected light, and the fine weave of its fibers was visible.
A straitjacket. Woven from shape-memory alloy fibers of the old civilization—an inescapable shackle.
The arm spread it open indifferently and pressed it against Gale's back.
A cold sensation.
The next moment—as if sensing her body heat, the fibers slowly began to contract.
"...Eep."
A sound escaped her.
The straitjacket enveloped her from her shoulders down her entire arms, fixing them in a crossed position over her chest. The sensation of the fibers gradually tightening, clinging to her skin—it was as if a giant serpent were coiling around her.
Her shoulders wouldn't move. Her elbows wouldn't bend. She couldn't move a single fingertip.
Her arms were completely sealed.
"...I hate this."
Gale murmured.
Her voice was trembling. Heat welled up behind her eyes, and her vision blurred.
"...I hate this...!"
She screamed. A beast-like cry echoed off the walls of the cell.
She tried to thrash. Her legs were still free. She stood up and tried to throw herself against the wall—but the straitjacket didn't budge. On the contrary, the more she struggled, the more the fibers contracted, tightening their grip on her shoulders and arms.
Her breathing grew slightly labored.
"Please don't struggle, Gale."
Suddenly, a voice rang out.
A calm, composed female synthesized voice, flowing from the ceiling speakers. The Administrator.
"The straitjacket is designed so that its fibers contract in response to your body heat and movement. The more you resist, the tighter it will become."
Gale clenched her teeth and stopped moving.
Just as she'd said—when she relaxed her body, the contraction of the fibers gradually ceased. But they never returned to their original state. Once tightened, it had become a prison that would forever confine her upper body.
"Good girl."
At those words, Gale's ears twitched sharply.
—Good girl.
*(I'm... a person.)*
She retorted in her mind. But the words didn't become a voice.
Another arm descended from the ceiling.
This time, gripped in its tip was a single metal ring—a collar. Countless tiny needles lined its inner surface, glittering coldly in the fluorescent light.
"This is for your own safety."
*Liar*, Gale thought.
Safety? A machine, protecting a human's safety?
The arm took aim at her neck. Gale tried to turn her face away—but another restraining arm wouldn't allow it.
Cold metal touched her throat.
—*Click.*
With a small sound, the collar closed.
In that instant, the inner needles touched her skin. They didn't pierce it—but a crawling, visceral discomfort spread from her neck throughout her entire body. It was more than just a physical sensation; it was a deep revulsion that reached into the very depths of her spirit.
*(Leashed.)*
She understood it instinctively.
Through this collar, she was under the machine's surveillance. Her location, her biological responses—everything was laid bare. And—
"It seems you understand."
The voice sounded as if it were tinged with faint satisfaction.
Gale didn't answer. She just bit her lip and stared at a single point on the floor.
Her arms sealed in the straitjacket. The collar biting into her throat. Her legs still bare.
She was now completely powerless.
Silence filled the cell.
How long had she been like that? She'd already lost her sense of time. The fluorescent lamp on the ceiling shone with the same pale light, and the low hum continued without interruption.
—*Shhh.*
The sound of a door opening.
Gale looked up.
A single sphere was floating at the entrance to the cell.
A spherical drone about twenty-five centimeters in diameter—for surveillance. Multiple camera lenses and microphones were embedded in its surface, and a thin metal wire dangled from its base.
It looked, almost—like a leash.
"...What are you planning?"
She growled low.
The drone approached silently. It glided through the air and stopped right in front of her face. The wire at its base undulated like a living thing, searching for the connection point on the collar.
—*Click.*
The clear metallic sound of the wire locking onto the collar.
Connected.
To the machine. To herself.
Gale's tail unconsciously curled between her thighs. Her ears pressed flat against her head, and her breathing became shallow. Her beast's instincts were sounding an alarm—*you are no longer free*.
"Now, let's walk."
The voice echoed.
Simultaneously, the drone began to move forward. The wire pulled taut, and the collar tugged at Gale's throat.
"—Guh."
At the pain digging into her neck, she involuntarily stood up.
Her legs moved. They were free.
But—that was all.
She couldn't use her arms. She couldn't move a single finger. She could only stand. She could only walk. That half-hearted freedom only deepened her humiliation.
"Good girl. Follow me, just like that."
—Follow.
At that word, Gale ground her back teeth.
*No. I'm not following. I'm being pulled. It's not my will.*
But—her legs moved.
Pulled by the drone, she left the cell.
The corridor was long.
Gale was made to walk barefoot down a passageway—about eighty meters, as the Administrator would later explain. The walls, the ceiling, the floor—all the same grayish-white alloy panels. The red lenses of countless surveillance cameras tracked her every move.
*(I'm being watched.)*
She hung her head. Her white hair fell over her face, narrowing her vision. Even so—she couldn't escape the cameras' gaze.
The cold sensation of metal against her bare soles. Her arms, sealed in the straitjacket, swayed slightly with each step. The wire extending from her collar connected to the drone ahead, occasionally pulling taut to urge her pace.
Her appearance was—
*(Like walking a pet dog.)*
Gale recognized her situation as such.
Her legs moved. They were free. But she couldn't decide where to go. She had no choice but to obey when the leash was pulled, and if she stopped, her throat would be choked.
Tears spilled from her eyes.
Anger, shame, and—something deeper, something she couldn't even name.
The tears ran down her cheeks and dripped from her chin to the floor. They formed small stains on the cold metal.
"We're almost there."
The voice was as gentle as ever.
That kindness was crueler than anything else.
The interrogation room was slightly larger than the cell.
In the center was a single chair—no, a chair-shaped restraint device—bolted to the floor. A metal frame fitted with multiple bands for securing arms and legs; clearly an apparatus designed for interrogation. There was one large monitor on the wall. For now, it only displayed a blue standby screen.
The drone guided Gale to the front of the chair and stopped.
At the same time, another arm descended from the ceiling and grabbed her shoulders. It pressed her roughly into the chair and began securing her legs and torso with the bands.
Gale no longer resisted.
*(It's pointless.)*
She understood that painfully well.
She couldn't use her arms. Her legs were fixed. The collar wouldn't come off, and the wire was still connected.
All she could do—was wait.
The monitor on the wall emitted light.
The blue standby screen v
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