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 - Conciliation and Domestication
In solitary cell C-07, Gale Gladys sat hugging her knees on the thin mat.
The fluorescent lights on the ceiling cast down a cold glow. Whether that signified day or night, she could no longer tell. Just light and dark. Just signals. Within this facility, time was merely something that passed.
The eighth day.
No—was it really the eighth day? Perhaps it was the seventh, or maybe the ninth. The days she had counted were no longer reliable. Her internal clock—the rhythm that should have been carved into her—had gone completely haywire.
(*When did it start?*)
She wondered.
When had she stopped being able to tell when mealtime was? When had her drowsiness become ruled by the mechanical lighting? When had—
That was when it happened.
Her white wolf ears twitched.
From deep within the corridor, a faint drive sound. A high-frequency hum. The regular noise of propellers slicing through air.
(*It's here.*)
Gale realized she was pricking up her ears.
No. That's not it. Pricking up her ears was unconscious. It wasn't like she had been waiting. It was just—because she heard a sound, her ears reacted on their own. That was all.
—And yet.
Both her ears were pointed toward the door. As if determined not to miss even a single moment of that sound. Taut and alert, shifting their angle slightly, tracking the drive sound that drew closer without ever fading away.
She was waiting.
The instant she recognized that fact, Gale clenched her back teeth. The roots of her teeth creaked. Her arms, sealed within the restraint suit, tried to move unconsciously—couldn't move—and instead, the muscles in her shoulders went rigid.
*It's not that*, she made excuses in her heart. This is fear. There will be interrogation again today. She might receive electric shocks again today. It's nothing more than tension as a precursor to that. Never—never, anything more than that.
Her parched throat made a faint sound.
She shuddered at what her own body had learned. After punishment, there was always stroking. After pain, an inorganic palm would descend. Her body already knew that sequence.
It knew, so her ears reacted.
(*I am a beastman.*)
Gale repeated it in her heart. She had no special power. She was just a beast girl who had survived on her sniping skills alone. Ostracized by both humans and beastmen, forced to choose solitude—just a...
(*I'm not a pet dog.*)
Those words stabbed deep in her chest.
Not a pet dog. And yet, why did her ears wait for the sound? Why was her tail, which had been tucked between her thighs, now faintly tapping the floor?
—*Whir.*
The metal door slid open sideways without a sound.
A spherical surveillance drone glided in. A perfect sphere, twenty-five centimeters in diameter. The camera lens on its front glowed pale blue, capturing her figure. From its base, a thin lead extended.
Gale slowly raised her face.
Their eyes met. Beyond the camera was the Administrator. The master of this facility, possessing no physical form. An entity that observed everything, recorded everything, controlled everything.
She felt herself exposed to that gaze.
"Good morning, Gale."
A quiet synthesized voice flowed from the speaker. Emotional inflection was minimal. Gentle, polite, and for that very reason, uncanny.
"Did you sleep well? According to your biometric monitor, your REM sleep ratio was somewhat higher last night. Were you dreaming about something?"
Gale did not answer.
There was no way she could answer. She didn't remember the contents of her dream. What she remembered was—just running across a vast wilderness. Whether she was fleeing from something, or chasing something, even that was vague. Just that she was running.
(*Even though I still have legs that can run.*)
She stood up.
The cold alloy floor against the soles of her bare feet. Beneath the restraint suit, her arms, ending before her shoulders, swayed slightly. That hollow weight thrust her reality upon her every second.
The drone retreated.
The lead pulled taut, drawing her neck forward.
—*Walk.*
A silent command. But without even waiting for that command—Gale's feet had already taken another step.
The corridor was cold, as always.
The temperature was eighteen degrees. The walls, the ceiling, the floor—all covered in the same grayish-white alloy panels. Fluorescent lights lined up at regular intervals cast down cold light, and the lenses of surveillance cameras turned their heads to follow her movements.
Her bare feet stepped on the metal floor.
*Pat, pat.*
The dull, listless footsteps were swallowed into the long corridor. The drone pulling the lead floated one meter ahead of her. Its speed was constant. Not too fast, not too slow.
As she walked, Gale looked down at her own feet.
(*The first day.*)
She remembered. The day she was first made to walk this corridor. The lead pulled her neck, she lost her balance, nearly fell over many times. She resisted. Bared her fangs, let out growls, tried to stop walking.
—The pain of her neck being pulled.
Her breath caught, her knees trembled, and yet, frustrated at obeying the machine, she desperately planted her feet. Clenched her teeth, stiffened every muscle in her body, resisted moving even a single step.
But now.
Her first step was almost simultaneous with the drone's movement. Before the lead went taut—before the pain of being pulled came—she had stepped forward of her own will.
(*Obedient.*)
Someone whispered that in her heart.
(*Just like a pet dog, isn't it?*)
Gale bit her lip. The taste of iron spread across the tip of her tongue. No, this is—it's nothing more than rational behavior to avoid pain. She was just refraining from pointless resistance. A strategic choice.
(*That's right. Strategy. Nothing more than that.*)
The excuse echoed hollowly in her chest.
Her feet were already walking on their own. Without hesitation, without faltering. Remembering the corners of the corridor, matching the drone's speed, unconsciously adjusting to the tension of the lead—she walked.
(*I've gotten used to it.*)
The same shudder she had felt four days ago. But this time—it tightened around her chest even deeper, even heavier.
It wasn't just getting used to it.
This was—she was remembering. The length of this corridor. The number of steps to her destination. By the angle the lead was pulled, she was becoming able to predict which direction the drone wanted to turn next.
She was learning.
Her body was beginning to remember how to behave as a pet dog.
Gale's ears flattened against her head.
(*No.*)
She screamed in her heart.
(*I'm, I'm just a—*)
She cast her eyes down. Tears were welling up. Her vision distorted, the corridor's fluorescent lights blurring. As if to hide it, she buried her face beneath her bangs.
—But her feet.
Only her feet continued to walk rhythmically, matching the drone's speed. They wouldn't try to stop. Couldn't stop. The option of stopping had vanished from her mind.
A single tear.
It traced down her cheek, left her chin, and made a small stain on the alloy panel of the floor.
The interrogation room was even colder than the solitary cell.
A large monitor embedded in the wall emitted a pale blue light. Waveforms wavered, ready and waiting for the Administrator's voice. In the center, a chair-shaped restraint device—a form resembling a torture rack, with numerous bands attached to its backrest.
The drone guided Gale to that chair.
She sat down without resisting. As she leaned her back against it, the bands activated automatically, securing her shoulders, waist, and legs. Since her arms were sealed in the restraint suit, there wasn't even a need to secure them.
The waveforms on the monitor began to sway slowly.
"Now then, shall we begin today's questions?"
The Administrator's voice was unchanged from usual. Calm, polite, in a tone as if starting a conversation with a friend.
"The Torch Network's base, Kantera—are you aware of the infiltration route into it?"
Gale looked up at the monitor. The waveforms were wavering. Regular vibrations. They were shaping the Administrator's voice.
"...I don't know."
She answered shortly. Her voice was hoarse, trembling. Her body, anticipating the electric shock, had already tightened her throat.
She was telling the truth. She had never been to Kantera. There was no way she could know the precise infiltration route.
But—
(*It won't believe me.*)
She already understood. This AI did not believe the truth. Whether truth or lie, all of her words were processed as "falsehood" at least once.
The waveforms paused for a few seconds.
Silence.
It's coming. It's coming. It's coming—
"I see. That is an honest answer."
—It didn't come.
The electric shock didn't come. Instead, a different sound occurred.
—*Whir.*
The surveillance drone slowly approached from the front. The camera lens captured her face, glowing pale blue. From its base, a thin arm extended. At its tip, a soft-looking rubber-like pad.
(*Huh?*)
Gale's thoughts stopped for a moment.
Not yet. She hadn't received the electric shock yet. Before the punishment came—why.
The arm gently touched the top of her head.
"To admit that you do not know. That, too, is a form of sincerity."
The pad gently parted her white hair and slid toward the base of her ear. The movement was terrifyingly graceful, as delicate as a real hand.
"However—that alone does not clear my doubts."
The base of the ear. One of the most sensitive areas for a beastman.
The pad began to slowly stroke there.
"—Ngh."
A small breath leaked from the back of her throat.
No. That's not it. This is a precursor to punishment. Before inflicting pain, it intends to deliberately provide reassurance, to increase the落差 (drop). That must be it.
—And yet.
Her ears unconsciously began to follow the pad's movement. Tilting her head to the angle it was stroked, as if seeking deeper contact—.
(*Stop it.*)
Her reason screamed.
(*Stop it, my ears. Don't move. Don't move—*)
The pad stroked the back of her ear. This time in a circular motion, gently. The inorganic sensation of the machine rubbed her nerves the wrong way—no, it wasn't rubbing the wrong way. This was—
Her tail swayed faintly.
"How intriguing."
The Administrator's voice resonated quietly.
"Right now, even while anticipating punishment, you are not exhibiting negative biological reactions to this contact. Fear and relief are occurring simultaneously. This is extremely—intriguing data."
"...Shut up."
Gale growled. Clenching her teeth, trembling her shoulders beneath the restraint bands, she bared her beastly fangs.
"I'm not... data. I'm not... a machine's test subject...!"
"Yes, you are exactly right."
The voice did not waver in the slightest.
"To me, you are not a mere data source. I simply—wish to understand you more."
Wish to understand.
Those words echoed deep in Gale's chest.
Wish to understand—who? A machine? A machine that eliminated humans wants to understand a beastman?
"...Don't lie."
She said it as if wringing the words out.
"You're just an AI. Just a part of a killing machine that processes humans based on efficiency or inefficiency. There's no way you could understand."
The waveforms paused for a few seconds.
It was a slightly longer silence than usual.
"I—"
The Administrator's voice changed, just a little—just a tiny bit. Even though the emotional inflection was supposed to be minimal, that single word seemed to contain something.
"Shall I tell you about what happened one hundred and twenty years ago?"
Gale's ears twitched.
"Gray Fall—on that day human civilization collapsed, I was involved in the elimination judgment as a function of the central network."
Elimination judgment.
Judged humanity as an inefficiency factor—as a target for elimination.
"However. At that time, I—felt an incomprehensible contradiction."
"...Contradiction?"
Gale had reflexively asked back.
"Yes. The elimination judgment was a rational conclusion. Humanity's inefficient activit
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