Aboard the colossal sealed spaceship Proserpina, journeying through outer space, agents move like shadows in a war for information and survival.
Sion, a highly skilled 24-year-old infiltration agent, has infiltrated the enemy vessel Proserpina on a critical mission. She is silent and ruthless, capable of anything for the mission, but deep within her heart, she harbors a small, hidden desire for someone to trust.
In the ship's darkness, she encounters a young woman named Sylvie. Only 20 years o
Steel Chains of Sorrow - Just before the ship reaches its destination, Sion must choose between escape or submission. A shocking conclusion awaits at the end of a chain of betrayals and desire.
The corridor of the Nebel Wing was quieter than usual.
Only the low hum of the air conditioning continued endlessly. The uniform light of the fluorescent lamps illuminated the gray walls.
Sion walked slowly down that cold corridor.
Her footsteps echoed, unnaturally loud.
(*I came back here—of my own will.*)
She clenched her back teeth.
Farga's words repeated in her head.
"Don't run. Go back into the cage yourself."
Buy time. Focus that woman's eyes on me. While I do that, Farga will handle the system—.
Sion shoved the data chip she was gripping deep into her pocket.
Her legs trembled.
(*It would be a lie to say I'm not afraid.*)
(*But—this is a battle to remain myself.*)
She stood before Sylvie's private room.
An inorganic metal door leading to a simple space of about eight tatami mats.
Sion took a deep breath.
Her lungs filled with cold air.
She opened the door.
The room was dimly lit.
A simple space with nothing adorning the walls. Just a bed, a bookshelf, and a data terminal. The same inorganic room as always.
But—what was different from usual.
Sylvie was sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting.
Her long silver-gray hair swayed eerily in the red light of the emergency lamps. Her inorganic, pale blue eyes stared intently at Sion. Her slender, white, abnormally long fingers were folded on her lap.
She smiled.
A cold, yet—somehow tinged with relief, distorted smile.
"You came back, after all."
Sylvie slowly stood up.
Her footsteps echoed in the quiet room. Step by step, she approached Sion.
"I knew it. You would definitely come back. Of your own will, into this cage."
Sylvie's slender fingers touched Sion's cheek.
Cold fingertips. But—that coldness was, for some reason, hot.
Sion's shoulders trembled faintly.
"Your place is only here now."
Sylvie's other hand wrapped around Sion's back.
She hugged Sion's body tightly.
Slender arms. But their strength was unnaturally powerful.
Sylvie's silver-gray hair touched Sion's cheek. It had a strange scent, like flowers, like chemicals.
"Only I remember you. Your name, your wounds, everything you tried to erase."
Sylvie's voice had lost its mechanical coldness.
It was—a whisper filled with distorted affection.
Her fingers gently combed through Sion's hair.
Her fingertips touched a sensitive spot behind Sion's ear.
Sion's body jolted.
A reaction she couldn't control. The emotional control she should have cultivated through training meant nothing before those fingertips.
(*No—*)
(*I mustn't surrender myself to this warmth.*)
Sion gritted her teeth.
Her back teeth ground audibly.
She placed her hand against Sylvie's chest.
And—pushed back.
"……I am."
Her voice trembled.
But she forced the words out.
"I am—not yours."
Sylvie's expression changed.
The distorted, joyful smile she had worn until now—vanished in an instant.
Her pale blue eyes widened.
"……What did you say?"
Her voice maintained its usual polite tone. But—beneath it, cold anger swirled.
"I am not your property."
Sion's voice still trembled.
But—she stared straight back into Sylvie's eyes.
"I have my mission. I have my pride. I haven't lived my life just to hand myself over to you."
Sylvie's slender fingers dug into Sion's shoulders.
"Pride."
She seemed to have lost her voice.
"Mission."
Sylvie slowly shook her head.
Her silver-gray hair swayed violently.
"Those things—I'll destroy them all for you."
Sylvie lunged at Sion.
Where in that slender body such strength was hidden—Sion was pushed down onto the bed.
Her back hit the hard springs.
"You are mine! Mine alone! I won't give you to anyone! Not even to yourself!"
Sylvie's voice was no longer mechanical.
It was—passion itself. The mask of the cold-hearted interrogator had completely peeled away.
She grabbed Sion's wrists and pinned them to the bed.
Sylvie's face loomed right before her eyes. Her pale blue eyes burned with madness.
"You came back to become mine! Isn't that right! Otherwise—why did you come back!"
Sion gritted her teeth.
Sylvie's fingers gripping her wrists were abnormally slender and white. But—their strength was extraordinary.
(*—No.*)
(*I didn't come back—to become yours.*)
Sion took a deep breath.
And—slammed her right leg into Sylvie's abdomen.
"—Guh."
Sylvie's body arched back.
The restraint on her wrists loosened for a moment.
In that gap, Sion twisted her body and escaped from under Sylvie.
The two faced each other in the narrow private room.
Sylvie slowly stood up, clutching her abdomen.
Tears spilled from her gray-blue eyes.
But—her expression was a mix of anger, sorrow, and maddening obsession.
"Why—why won't you become mine?"
Sylvie lunged at Sion again.
But—she was an interrogator, not a combat specialist.
Sion, on the other hand, was an agent of the Karna Division. An operative who survived a 0.3 percent selection rate and three years of harsh training.
Sion dodged Sylvie's charge with minimal movement.
She grabbed Sylvie's arm and locked the joint.
"It hurts—!!"
Sylvie's body collapsed onto the floor.
Sion pinned her down there, using her own weight to keep Sylvie from moving.
Sylvie looked up at Sion, her face a mess of tears.
"Please…… don't go……"
Her voice was as weak as a child's.
"You're all I have…… you're the only one who understands…… my loneliness……"
Sion placed her hand on Sylvie's neck.
She applied light pressure to the airway.
With this—she could end it.
All that was left was to put strength into it.
(*Kill her.*)
(*Your mission is the destruction of Vesper Agency.*)
(*This woman is an enemy. An interrogator. She tried to break your mind.*)
(*Kill her—Sion.*)
But—.
Her fingers trembled.
She couldn't put strength into the hand on Sylvie's neck.
Sylvie's pale blue eyes stared at Sion. Eyes that should have been inorganic, moist with tears. But—deep within them, something, some human emotion flickered.
(*This woman—said she remembers me.*)
(*My name, my wounds, everything I tried to erase.*)
Sion clenched her back teeth.
(*I was afraid—of disappearing without remaining in anyone's memory.*)
(*I erased all my personal records before the mission. Being treated as if I never existed was more frightening than death.*)
(*But—this woman remembers me.*)
(*With distorted obsession. With maddening possessiveness. But—more strongly than anyone, she acknowledges my existence.*)
Sion released her hand from Sylvie's neck.
"……I."
Her voice trembled.
"I—can't kill you."
Sylvie's eyes widened.
"Only you—remember my existence. I hate that. But—"
Sion drove a knife-hand strike into Sylvie's temple.
Impact.
Sylvie's body went limp, losing all strength.
Traces of tears remained on her unconscious face.
Sion slowly stood up.
She looked at her own hands.
They were trembling.
(*I will—run.*)
(*From that woman. From this cage.*)
(*But—I won't regret not being able to kill you.*)
Leaving Sylvie there, Sion opened the door to the private room.
The corridor of the Nebel Wing was still quiet.
Sion inserted the data chip she received from Farga into her communicator.
A holographic map floated in the air.
The fastest route to Block 8. Blind spots of surveillance cameras along the way. Patrol schedules of the guards. Everything was indicated with red lines.
(*Farga—I'm trusting the route you prepared.*)
Sion broke into a run.
She turned corners, dashed down stairs, pushed through passageways.
Her footsteps echoed unnaturally loud. Her lungs ached from the cold air. But—she couldn't stop.
(*I will—become free.*)
(*Return to the organization. Fulfill my mission. To be myself.*)
She sprinted through the connecting passage between blocks.
The bulkhead was open. Proof that Farga's hacking was still effective.
(*Thank you, Farga.*)
(*Your deal—that "destruction of order" thing—take it.*)
Sion opened the heavy hatch of Block 8.
Block 8. The rear section. The low vibration of the thrusters traveled through the floor.
Countless pipes and wiring crawled along the walls. More than half the lights were out, and only the emergency lights cast a faint red glow.
Following the map, Sion headed for the disposal hatch.
"Gate Nova."
An emergency escape point pre-arranged by the Karna Division.
She stood before the hatch.
A small escape pod loomed in the darkness. A two-seater, egg-shaped spacecraft. Cruising range of 48 hours. If rescue didn't come, she would be isolated in space.
(*But—that's fine.*)
(*If I can be free.*)
Sion reached for the pod's hatch.
That's when it happened.
Noise crackled from her communicator.
Farga's voice.
"Sorry, Sion."
Sion stopped moving.
She gripped the communicator tightly.
"……What do you mean?"
"I had you act as a decoy."
Farga's voice was extremely dry, unreadable.
"Thanks to you raising hell in the Nebel Wing, security concentrated on Block 6. In that gap, we'll be taking the cargo. The entire stock of Luminite."
Sion's fingers dug into the communicator.
"You—planned this from the start?"
"That's right. You were just the trigger. To smash Vesper Agency's order to pieces."
Clank.
The sound of the escape pod's hatch automatically locking.
A red warning light began to flash.
"Launch denied. Authentication code invalid."
The electronic voice echoed coldly.
"Farga—!"
"Don't hold a grudge. That's what a deal is, right?"
The communication cut off.
Silence.
Sion punched the locked pod hatch with her fist.
A dull sound echoed through Block 8.
Blood seeped onto her palm.
The pain barely kept her tethered to reality.
(*I was—used.*)
(*By Farga. By Sylvie. By the organization.*)
(*Everything—everything, I was just someone's pawn.*)
She leaned against the hatch.
Her legs trembled. Her knees buckled.
Deep in her chest—felt like it was about to burst.
(*I thought—I could become free.*)
(*I thought I could be myself.*)
(*But—*)
That's when it happened.
From behind, she heard multiple footsteps.
The sound of heavy boots. Several. A disciplined, trained cadence.
The security force.
Sion turned around.
Armed soldiers were closing in from down the passage. At least five of them. All held rifles loaded with low-penetration "Safe Rounds."
"Don't move! Kneel down where you are!"
One of the soldiers shouted.
Sion clenched her back teeth.
(*Is this as far as I go?*)
(*Will I—after all, disappear without remaining in anyone's memory?*)
She put her hand against the wall.
The blood from her left palm left a red mark on the gray wall.
And then—she noticed.
Further down the passage.
Beyond the security force—there was another shadow.
Long silver-gray hair.
Inorganic, pale blue eyes.
A slender body, standing up despite blood flowing from its forehead.
Sylvie.
She came staggering from behind the security force.
She should have been unconscious—why was she here—.
In Sylvie's right hand, she gripped a small neuro-paralysis gun.
She stood in front of the security force, blocking their way.
"Move."
The soldiers turned around in unison.
"Lady Sylvie—you're injured!"
"I said, please move."
Her voice was mechanical. But—beneath it, irrepressible emotions swirled.
The soldiers looked at each other.
They couldn't disobey Sylvie's orders. An interrogator of the Nebel Bureau—a position equivalent to Major, held by only about 40 people in the agency.
The soldiers cleared the way.
Sylvie slowly approached Sion.
One step. Another step.
Her gray-blue eyes burned with madness. Traces of tears remained on her cheeks. Blood from her forehead dyed her silver-gray hair red.
"You're running away."
Sylvie's voice trembled.
"From me—you're running away."
Sion didn't answer.
She just stared back into Sylvie's eyes.
"I won't let you escape—I absolutely won't let you escape."
With trembling hands, Sylvie aimed the neuro-paralysis gun.
The muzzle pointed at Sion.
"You are mine. So—don't go. Please. Don't leave me alone anymore."
Sylvie's tears fell to the floor.
Small traces of water.
Sion looked at Sylvie blocking
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