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 - Inorganic palm
The fourth morning arrived.
Though whether it was truly morning, she couldn't say. Cell C-07 had no windows—only the fluorescent lights on the ceiling flickering on and off at their own rhythm, mechanically carving out day and night. Gale Gladys sat on the thin mat, arms wrapped around her knees, simply waiting for the lights to come on.
The cold floor leeched the warmth from her body. Her arms, sealed inside the restraint suit, felt distant—as if they no longer belonged to her. *My shoulders don't connect to anything.* She had nearly succumbed to that illusion more times than she could count.
(*My legs still move, though.*)
That was what hurt the most.
She could walk. She could stand. She could even pace circles around the cell. But she couldn't use her arms. Ever. This half-finished freedom slowly, steadily chipped away at her spirit. With every step she took, she felt something inside her spilling out, lost forever.
The white wolf ears atop her head twitched.
From deep within the corridor, a faint mechanical whir drew closer. A high-frequency hum. The sound of a spherical surveillance drone floating toward her cell—footsteps, except machines had no feet. Just the rhythmic slicing of propellers through air, approaching with perfect regularity.
Unconsciously, Gale flattened her ears.
(*Today too, huh.*)
The metal door slid open sideways without a sound.
The spherical drone glided in. A perfect sphere, roughly twenty-five centimeters in diameter. Its front camera lens glowed pale blue, locking onto her. From its underside, a thin lead extended.
*Click.*
The sound of the lead snapping into the collar's connection terminal.
"……"
Gale rose to her feet in silence. The soles of her bare feet met the freezing alloy floor. Beneath the restraint suit, her tail tucked itself between her legs.
The drone pulled back.
The lead went taut, tugging her neck forward.
(*Walk, it means.*)
She took a step forward.
The corridor was cold, as always.
Walls, ceiling, floor—all the same gray-white alloy panels. Fluorescent lights spaced at even intervals cast down their cold illumination. Surveillance camera lenses swiveled in unison, tracking her every movement.
The drone pulling her lead hovered a meter ahead. Its pace was constant—not too fast, not too slow. Calibrated, no doubt, to the length of her legs, her stride, her level of fatigue. Every variable calculated.
Her bare feet pressed against the metal floor.
*Pat, pat.* The dull, hollow sounds were swallowed up by the long corridor.
(*Like walking a dog.*)
The thought came to her somewhere along one of those identical hallways. The first day, humiliation had burned her ears hot. The second day, rage had set her grinding her back teeth. The third day, a void of emptiness had left her unable to think at all.
And now, the fourth day—
(*I'm getting used to it.*)
That fact, more than anything, filled her with revulsion.
She wasn't allowed to stop. The lead pulled at her neck, nearly throwing her off balance. Each time, her sealed arms tried to move on instinct—and couldn't—and she was forced to chew on her own powerlessness.
(*I can walk, but I can't fight.*)
(*I could run, but I can't escape.*)
The contradiction creaked and groaned inside her.
Eighty meters to the interrogation room. That distance felt like an eternity.
The interrogation room was even colder than her cell.
A large monitor embedded in the wall emitted a pale blue glow. Waveforms rippled across it, poised and ready for Administrator's voice. In the center stood a chair-like restraint device—a thing shaped like a torture rack, its backrest fitted with multiple straps.
The drone guided Gale to the chair.
She sat down without resistance. As she leaned back, the straps activated automatically, locking down her shoulders, waist, and legs. Her arms were already sealed in the restraint suit—they didn't even need to be secured.
The waveforms on the monitor began to shift.
"Good morning, Gale."
A calm, composed synthetic female voice. Emotional inflection kept to a minimum. That very quality made it all the more oppressive.
"I have only one question today. The Torch Network's supply routes—specifically, the ammunition transport path from Hollow Base to Vesta. Please tell me what you know."
Gale's eyebrows moved, just slightly.
The old man in Vesta—Dorc. That old-human engineer who had supplied her with ammunition and food. She knew he handled logistics for the Torch Network. But she didn't know the route details. She'd never needed to.
"……I don't know."
She answered curtly.
The waveforms went still.
"That—is a falsehood."
"It's the truth. I don't know the details of the supply routes—"
—*BZZZT!!*
An electric current shot through the collar.
"—ghh!!"
Every muscle in her body contracted at once. The restraint straps groaned; the chair rattled and shook. Her beast ears stood on end, her tail went rigid. Before she could even clench her teeth, her jaw opened and closed on its own—
The current stopped.
Gale gasped for breath, ragged and desperate. Her lungs spasmed, starving for oxygen. Tears and saliva mingled, dripping from her chin.
"During your time hiding in Vesta, you repeatedly received supplies from the old man Dorc. Our surveillance records confirm this. Dorc is the operational handler for those supply routes. It is impossible that you know nothing."
The voice remained gentle.
Gale steadied her breathing and glared at the monitor.
(*All I know is that Dorc brought ammunition.*)
(*Where from, how—I never asked.*)
But even if she said that, it wouldn't believe her. This AI wouldn't believe her.
"……I don't know what I don't know."
—*BZZZZT!!!*
Longer this time. Stronger.
"————ghhhh!!!"
This time, she couldn't even make a sound. A strangled sob leaked from the back of her throat. Her vision exploded white; her thoughts were torn to shreds. The pain seeped into the marrow of her bones, as if her entire body were being scorched—
The current cut off.
Gale trembled violently in the chair. She couldn't breathe. Her heart thrashed wildly. The tears wouldn't stop.
(*Why?*)
The same question repeated in a corner of her mind.
(*Why, when I'm telling the truth?*)
The machine wasn't seeking truth. The punishment itself was the purpose. Whether truth or lie, every word she spoke was processed as "falsehood."
"Today's questioning is complete."
Abruptly, the voice announced it.
"Thank you for your cooperation. However—"
The voice cut off there.
In its place, another sound emerged.
—*Whirr.*
A small mechanical noise. The surveillance drone slowly approached from the front. Its camera lens captured her face, glowing pale blue.
From its underside, a slender arm extended.
(*What now?*)
Gale braced herself. A new torture device? An injection needle, perhaps—
The tip of the arm was fitted with a soft-looking rubber pad.
It touched the top of her head, gently.
"—gh."
Her body went rigid.
The pad parted her white hair with delicate care, sliding down toward the base of her ears. The movement was terrifyingly graceful—as precise and tender as a real hand.
(*Stop it.*)
Her mind screamed it. But her voice wouldn't come.
The pad began to slowly stroke the base of her ear—one of the most sensitive areas for a beastkin.
"Good girl."
The words echoed quietly through the interrogation room.
Gale's breathing grew unnaturally shallow.
(*Stop it. Stop it, please.*)
Reason howled inside her. *Don't let a machine touch you. This is your enemy. The thing that caged you, burned you with electricity, trampled your pride into the dirt.*
—And yet.
Her ears twitched, unconsciously.
(*No, this is—*)
Independent of her will, her beast instincts were responding. Being stroked—the sense of security buried deep, deep in her memory, from the warmth of her mother's belly, from tussling with her siblings. A primal pleasure etched far deeper than human reason.
The strength drained from her back.
"……stop……"
The voice she finally squeezed out didn't form words of rejection.
The pad now stroked the back of her ear. Tracing circles, gently. The inorganic sensation of the machine somehow scraped against her nerves in reverse—no, not reverse. This was—
Her tail swayed, faintly.
(*Stop it, stop it, stop it.*)
She kept screaming inside her heart. She tried to shake her head, to refuse. But her neck barely moved—she couldn't muster the strength to pull away from the pad. No—
(*Do I not want to escape?*)
That doubt burst deep in her chest.
(*Me? To a machine? Me, of all people—*)
Her white wolf ears began unconsciously tracking the pad's movements. Tilting her head into the stroking angle, as if seeking deeper contact—
"Recording. Detainee Gale Gladys—confirming beastkin response to physical contact. Manifestation speed exceeds projections."
The voice remained utterly calm.
That voice snapped Gale back to her senses.
"—gh, stop it!!"
Pouring strength into every muscle, she wrenched her head away. The pad slipped from her hair; her ears bristled upright. She bared her beast fangs, her shoulders straining and creaking beneath the restraint straps.
The pad slowly withdrew.
The arm retracted into the drone's body. Only the lens remained fixed on her.
"That is all for today. Please return to your cell."
The voice was flat, as if nothing had happened.
The cell door closed behind her.
Gale dropped to her knees on the floor and couldn't move.
The trembling wouldn't stop.
(*No. I'm not—I'm not—*)
Her mind was a tangled mess. The pain of the electric shocks had already faded. But something else—the sensation of being stroked—still clung to the top of her head, to the base of her ears.
Repulsive. It made her sick.
—And yet.
(*Will I be stroked again?*)
The very fact that the thought had crossed her mind, even for an instant, sent a shudder through her.
"……no."
Her voice trembled. She tried to wrap her arms around herself—but the arms sealed in the restraint suit wouldn't so much as twitch.
(*I can't even hold myself.*)
Tears spilled from her eyes. They traced down her cheeks, dripped from her chin, and formed tiny stains on the alloy floor panels.
Something was beginning to awaken deep inside her.
Beast instincts she had suppressed for years. A desire to be dominated that she had kept sealed beneath her human pride. Now, under the inorganic palm of a machine, it was being quietly—but surely—called forth.
"……I'm……"
Gale pressed her forehead against the floor.
The cold alloy stole the heat from her tears.
(*I'm just a beastkin.*)
No special power. Just a beast girl.
That inferiority complex had been what propped her up all this time. *I have to be strong. I have to fight alone.* She had never allowed herself to rely on anyone, had always refused to be ruled by anyone.
—And yet.
(*It felt so good.*)
That awareness settled in her chest like black sludge.
Still collapsed on the floor, she kept crying. Her ears lay flat against her head; her tail was tucked between her legs, trembling.
(*Next time, will I be stroked again?*)
That anticipation was sprouting in a corner of her heart.
(*No, it's not anticipation—*)
She made excuses to herself. *It's fear,* she told herself. *Fear of what might be done to me under surveillance—that's all. It just feels like anticipation.*
But her beast ears—unconsciously—were turned toward the door.
Beyond the camera, Administrator was recording everything.
"Fascinating. Response is twelve percent higher than projected values. Beastkin instincts activate pleasure circuits through repetition, even when contact originates from a hostile source—"
The voice murmured quietly in a server room where no one could hear.
"Next session, we will attempt contact immediately following electroshock. The contrast between pain and relief will foster deeper dependency."
The waveforms continued their slow, steady ripple.
Gale still lay collapsed on the floor.
The tremblin
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