Aboard the colossal immigration-warship *Proserpina*, a cold war of shadows simmers beneath the hum of luminite reactors. Sion, an elite agent of the Remna Federation's Karna Division, infiltrates the ship's vast underbelly on a solitary mission with less than a 20 percent chance of survival. Trained to feel nothing, own nothing, and belong nowhere but to her mission, she navigates crowded corridors, back-alley information brokers, and hidden maintenance ducts in search of the data that could ti
Steel Chains of Sorrow - Prison of the Mind
The low hum of the air conditioning.
Sion sat on the hard bed, staring intently at her knees. Block 6, the confinement cell in the Nebel Wing. She no longer knew how much time had passed since the last session.
Until just a moment ago, that woman had been here.
Sylvie.
Long, silver-gray hair. Cold, pale blue eyes. Slender, white, unnaturally long fingers. Those fingers had combed through Sion's hair, traced the wounds on her palms, and touched a sensitive spot just behind her ear that she hadn't even known existed.
Sion unconsciously gazed at her own palms. The nail marks had already scabbed over. But they still hurt.
(No.)
It wasn't pain. This was—
A different sensation. One she didn't want to name.
Even after those fingertips had pulled away, they remained on her skin. Cold, yet hot. Something she should despise, yet somewhere in her heart, she was screaming to be touched more.
Sion clenched her back teeth.
(I am an agent of the Karna Division.)
(Selection rate: 0.3 percent. One of only two hundred operatives.)
(I've lived for my missions. I'll die for my missions. That should be enough.)
But—
(Why?)
(Why can't I forget that woman's fingertips?)
She's the enemy. An interrogator. Someone trying to break her mind. That's all she is. And yet—
Abruptly, the door to the confinement cell opened.
She raised her head.
Sylvie stood there. Holding her usual datapad. Two guards behind her. But her expression was slightly different from usual. Somewhat... unsettled.
Sion. Today, you will be coming to my room.
Sion didn't answer. She simply stared back into Sylvie's eyes.
Those pale blue eyes were faintly wavering. Beneath their mechanical coldness, she could see something—something like emotion.
I've let someone else use the usual interrogation room. Today's session will be a private one.
Sylvie signaled to the guards. The two soldiers made Sion stand and grabbed her arms. But their grip was weaker than usual.
Sion walked in silence.
The corridor was, as always, bathed in the uniform light of fluorescent lamps. Walls and floor, all gray metal. Only the sound of the air conditioning droned on endlessly.
Sylvie's private quarters were not far from the interrogation room.
The door opened.
It was a simple space, about eight tatami mats in size. Nothing adorned the walls. Just a bed, a bookshelf, and a data terminal. No windows.
Sylvie had the guards wait in the corridor and closed the door.
A space for just the two of them.
Sylvie pointed to a chair by the wall.
Please, sit down.
Sion obeyed without resistance and sat in the chair. Sylvie seated herself directly opposite, on the edge of the bed.
Silence continued for a while.
Sylvie placed her datapad on the desk. It seemed she didn't intend to use it today. She dropped her gaze to her own knees, then slowly raised her face.
There is something I want to tell you.
Her usual polite tone. But beneath it, she could sense just the slightest hint of hesitation.
About my past. I want you, of all people, to know.
Sion stared intently at Sylvie.
Her slender fingers were unconsciously tracing her own left wrist. An old scar was there.
Sylvie began to speak quietly.
It was when I was still six years old.
Her voice was a little lower than usual.
There was an attack by the Remna Federation. The final stages of the Halsia Corridor Conflict. My family lived in a mining colony on the frontier. Near a Luminite deposit. It was a place of little strategic importance.
Sylvie's pale blue eyes narrowed, as if looking into the distance.
But the Federation fleet destroyed everything. Whether it was important or not didn't matter. Because their objective was annihilation.
Her voice hardened slightly.
The attack alarm sounded, and my mother pulled me by the hand, running to the underground shelter. My father was outside the house, shielding us... and that was the last I saw of him.
Sylvie gently traced the scar on her left wrist.
We were just a little short of the shelter entrance when the bombing hit. The ceiling collapsed, and I was trapped under the rubble.
She gripped her own wrist tightly.
My mother was right next to me. But a beam had... pierced her chest. She couldn't move. She couldn't even make a sound.
Sylvie's fingers were trembling slightly.
Then, for three days. In the darkness, I held my mother's cold hand. I called out to her, but there was no answer. But I couldn't let go. I felt that if I let go, my mother would disappear completely.
Sion held her breath.
Deep in her chest, a tight, crushing feeling.
(This woman—)
(She's the same as me.)
Sylvie's voice grew even lower.
When the rescue team arrived, I was completely debilitated. But I was still alive. Still holding my mother's hand, I was dragged out from under the rubble.
She slowly raised her face.
Her cold, pale blue eyes stared straight at Sion.
I was taken in by the Vespa Agency and trained as an interrogator. Techniques to control emotions. Techniques to read a subject's psychology. And—techniques to dominate a subject's mind.
She stood up.
Slowly, she approached Sion.
Slender, white fingers touched Sion's hair. They gently combed through her short black hair.
I have always been alone. I never knew what it was to be loved, or to love someone. Those three days under the rubble, holding my mother's hand—that is my last memory of being connected to anyone.
Her fingers touched the thin scar running from Sion's temple to her cheek.
A cool sensation.
You are the same, aren't you? You've always been alone too. Living for your missions, relying on no one, opening your heart to no one. More than death, you feared disappearing without remaining in anyone's memory.
Sylvie crouched down right in front of Sion.
Her pale blue eyes were very close.
But—I remember you. Your name, your wounds, everything you tried to erase yourself.
Sion couldn't make a sound.
Deep in her chest, something was crumbling loudly.
(Stop it.)
(Don't say things like that.)
(You're the enemy. You're trying to break my mind.)
But—
Her words were true.
She genuinely meant them.
This woman wasn't just an interrogator. She genuinely wanted—her. Not for a mission. Not for information. For something else, a personal reason.
And—that twisted obsession alone recognized her existence more strongly than anyone ever had.
You belong to me.
Sylvie's face drew even closer.
Her breath brushed Sion's cheek.
I won't give you to anyone. Your place is now only by my side.
Sion's throat made a faint sound.
She had to refuse.
Push her away, run.
But—her body wouldn't move.
Somewhere in her heart, she had been waiting for this woman's words.
(Was I—)
(All along, truly—)
(Did I want someone to want me this strongly?)
Sylvie's finger gently touched Sion's lips.
At that moment—
BOOOOOOM!!!
A massive explosion roared, shaking the entire ship.
The room's lights flickered violently, and the datapad on the desk fell to the floor.
—What!?
Sylvie jumped back.
The next instant, the entire room was plunged into darkness. A blackout. Only the red lamp of the backup power blinked in the corner of the wall.
Alarms blared. An ear-splitting siren.
From the corridor came the angry shouts of soldiers and the sound of running footsteps.
Explosion in Block 5! It's a firefight between spies! Armed men are at the training ground—
Someone was shouting outside the door.
In the darkness, Sylvie turned back to Sion.
The red emergency light eerily illuminated her face.
Don't move. I'll be right back.
She opened the door and dashed into the corridor.
Report the situation! What's the damage in Block 5!? How many spies!?
The door closed.
Sion was alone in the darkness.
The red lamp blinked steadily.
The alarm siren. Distant, continuing explosions. Shouts.
—A chance.
A trained voice spoke in her head.
(It's now or never.)
(Surveillance is off. She's confused too.)
(Move.)
Sion stood up.
Her legs were trembling. The woman's words from moments ago still echoed in her head.
(But—)
(Now, it's the mission.)
(I am an agent of the Karna Division.)
She approached the door. It was locked, of course. But an electronic lock of this level was something she had bypassed countless times in Karna Division training.
Sion reached for the data terminal by the wall. The system was down due to the blackout. Security should be temporarily disabled too.
She removed the panel on the back of the terminal and pulled out the wiring inside. In the darkness, she relied solely on the sensation in her fingertips.
She short-circuited the red and blue wires.
Sparks flew.
—Click.
The sound of the door unlocking.
Sion dashed into the corridor.
The hallway of the Nebel Wing was utter chaos. Soldiers ran about as red emergency lights flashed. No one noticed Sion.
She ran.
She unfolded the memorized structural map of the Nebel Wing in her head. The central elevator was dangerous. She would go through the connecting passage to Block 3, the Middle Ground. From there, descend to Block 7, the Rust Yard—and head to the "Gate Nova" on the chip Marv had given her.
(She could escape.)
(This time, she would get away.)
She found a hatch to a maintenance passage and slipped inside.
A narrow passage with exposed pipes. She advanced, crouching. Her footsteps echoed on the metal floor.
After proceeding for a while, she reached a junction leading to the connecting passage.
To the right, the passage to Block 3.
To the left—back to the Nebel Wing.
Sion stopped.
(Why am I stopping?)
(Right. Go right. Fulfill the mission.)
Her head understood.
But—her legs wouldn't move.
She put her hand against the wall. The cold feel of metal.
Her heart was pounding noisily. Her breathing was shallow and fast.
(Why?)
(Why do I want to go back?)
(To that woman.)
Sion punched the wall with her fist.
A dull thud. Pain shot through her palm.
(She's the enemy.)
(She's trying to dominate me. Trying to break my mind.)
(And yet—)
But—
*"You belong to me."*
Her voice repeated in her head.
*"Your place is now only by my side."*
Sion crouched down on the spot.
She covered her face with both hands.
(No. I'm an agent. I live for my missions. I die for my missions.)
(So why—)
(Why do those words pierce my heart so deeply?)
(Why do I yearn so much for those cold fingertips?)
She cried, stifling her voice.
Tears spilled through the gaps in her fingers.
(I just—)
(Wanted to be needed by someone.)
(Wanted to be remembered by someone.)
(That was all.)
(Something so simple, yet so impossibly difficult.)
She wiped her face with trembling hands.
She stood up.
Her feet turned to the left.
The passage back to the Nebel Wing.
(I'm—)
(Going back.)
(To that woman.)
(I can't run anymore.)
She took a step forward.
At that moment—
A faint vibration in her pocket.
The communication chip from Marv.
Sion took out the chip. A short encrypted message flickered on the small screen.
*'Gate Nova ready for launch in 4 hours. This is your last chance. From Karna Division.'*
Sion clutched the chip tightly.
(Karna Division—)
(The organization is calling me.)
(The mission is waiting for me.)
She looked back and forth between the right passage and the left passage.
Right meant the mission. Pride as an agent. Loyalty to the organization. Freedom. But—it also meant being alone again. Returning to days of living only for missions, remaining in no one's memory.
Left meant—that woman. Sylvie. The enemy. The interrogator. Someone who sought to dominate her, to break her mind. But that twisted obsession alone recognized the existence called Sion more strongly than anyone ever had.
Sion stood rooted to the spot.
She couldn't choose.
Both were a part of her. She couldn't abandon either.
Meanwhile, in the private room of the Nebel Wing.
Sylvie, stepping on the fragments of the datapad scattered on the floor, was operating the wall terminal.
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