The moment they saw Orina that morning… they knew this wasn't going to be another breathing exercise.
The air felt wrong — too still, too heavy, as if the room itself was starving for oxygen.
The mental training hall was a long, rectangular chamber. Its walls were a dull, soundless gray; no windows, no mirrors, no clocks — not even an echo. Every step vanished into the floor, swallowed whole, leaving behind a strange sense of unease.
Orina stood before them, and — unlike usual — she smiled.
Not a welcoming smile.
A faint one… the kind that looks like a quiet farewell.
Then she spoke:
> "We are about to enter the inside… where the laws of the body no longer matter — only the laws of your own mind."
> "What you will see… is neither illusion nor reality."
> "It is simply: you, without your masks."
Behind her, Raiden was watching the group, eyes sharp and calculating. Then a third person entered.
He didn't introduce himself. Dressed in a white coat, his eyes were disturbingly calm — too calm. He walked into the center of the room, pulled a small device from his bag, and said:
> "A simple mental stimulator."
> "It emits a frequency that summons the most unsettling image buried in your subconscious."
> "It will not touch you… but your mind will do the rest."
Then he pointed to a sealed chamber on the right:
> "One at a time. Each session lasts no more than five minutes."
> "We only stop… when consciousness breaks."
Several swallowed hard.
The first to enter was Sera.
She came out pale.
Then Aron, Evan, Ella, and Nima.
Each emerged looking ten years older.
And finally… it was Kairn's turn.
He entered.
The room was empty — except for a single chair.
He sat down.
At first, nothing happened.
Then the lights dimmed, slowly.
And from the void… came the sound.
His voice — but not his voice.
Distorted. Drawn-out. As if someone were replaying his past through the throat of a corpse.
> "You are no one's son."
> "Everyone who saw you… forgot you."
> "Everyone you loved… was never really there."
> "You resemble someone… who never existed."
The walls began to move. Slowly. Closing in.
Then his shadow appeared in front of him — moving before he did.
The shadow spoke:
> "You're Kairn Valmir? No…"
> "Kairn is dead. What's left… is just a shell."
> "You are what comes after failure."
> "The thing that neither succeeds… nor dies."
Kairn shut his eyes.
Everything vanished.
When he opened them again, the room was unchanged.
But he was not.
He stepped out.
His face was blank — void of expression.
He sat in the corner and said nothing.
For the first time… Raiden wrote something in his notebook.
Just one line:
> "The void was speaking."
---
Later that evening…
Ella watched Kairn from a distance.
She whispered to Evan:
– "I don't understand him anymore."
Evan replied:
– "He doesn't understand himself either."
Nima was sketching in her notebook — something that looked like a faceless shadow.
Sera, on the other hand, wrote only one line in hers:
> "Kairn… is the question no one's asked yet."
When Orina ended the day's training, she said quietly:
> "Tomorrow… we begin the analysis."
---
Night fell.
The dormitory was silent — or at least pretended to be.
Ella hid her face under the blanket but didn't sleep.
Evan lay still, staring at the ceiling, blinking once every twenty seconds.
Sera flipped through her notebook without reading, while Nima's hand moved over the page, barely writing at all.
Only one of them hadn't moved since sunset.
Kairn.
He hadn't sat, or stretched, or spoken.
Just sat in the same corner — frozen, as if caught in something no one else could see.
---
Upstairs, in the monitoring room, Raiden replayed the footage of Kairn entering the device.
Orina sat beside him, reciting data in a bored tone:
– "Evan… high response to social pressure."
– "Ella… inherited fear of loss."
– "Sera… unstable tolerance."
– "Kairn…"
She paused. Looked at Raiden.
– "The report shows nothing. No neural spike. No hormone surge. No fear reaction."
– "Nothing happened to him — but what does that mean?"
Raiden didn't answer right away.
Then he said quietly:
> "Some minds don't break easily."
> "Some… were broken long before they arrived."
---
In the private conference room, the man in the white coat presented digital reports on a floating screen.
He stopped at one almost-empty graph.
– "This is Kairn's data."
The room went silent.
– "The mind reacted — but in a way beyond measurement."
– "No rise, no fall… only stillness."
– "That never happens, except in three cases."
He raised three fingers.
– "One: clinically dead."
– "Two: neurologically programmed against fear."
– "Three…" he paused.
– "…not entirely human."
---
Down the corridor, in the dark edge of the academy's grounds, Kairn was walking alone.
Yes, past curfew.
Yes, in a place under constant surveillance.
But he wasn't hiding.
He walked as if no one could see him.
Or maybe as if no one mattered.
He reached the end of the path — where the light failed to reach.
Stopped.
Looked up at the starless sky.
Then murmured:
– "I can't be a copy."
– "But I don't know how to be something else."
He raised his hand, as if to touch the air.
Then let it fall.
– "If there's nothing inside me… why do I feel everything?"
At that moment, Raiden stood twenty steps away.
He didn't move.
Didn't call out.
Just watched.
The night passed without an explosion.
But something… cracked.
---
The next morning…
Kairn was gone.
His name was called twice in the courtyard.
He didn't answer.
His room was empty.
His bed — untouched.
His belongings — never there to begin with.
Raiden and Orina exchanged a brief look.
Orina wrote in the trainee log:
– "Kairn Valmir… withdrew from training."
Then whispered:
> "Or perhaps… he just stepped out of a game he never agreed to play."
---
Ella heard the news in the corridor.
She froze.
All she could say was:
– "Left… without a word?"
Nima slammed her notebook shut.
Evan muttered:
– "I was the one supposed to quit first… not him."
Sera bit her lip and whispered:
– "I should've talked to him last night."
But no one said it out loud.
No one voiced the thought that choked them all:
> "Kairn… left us."
---
That morning, his absence was recorded officially.
But not erased from their hearts.
Ella, no matter how she tried, kept glancing at the spot where he always sat. Even his cup of water remained untouched.
Nima tore out the page where she had drawn the faceless shadow. Closed her notebook. Said nothing. Wrote nothing.
Sera gripped a small pendant hidden under her jacket and whispered:
– "Some people… can't fight the way we want them to."
Evan laughed — a broken laugh.
– "Fine. Maybe he'll become a baker. Or a ghost detective. Or open a bookstore that sells silence."
But his voice… convinced no one.
---
Far from the courtyard, in a forgotten corner of the city,
in an abandoned train station used only for military freight,
Kairn sat alone on a worn wooden bench.
In his hand — a small bundle of cloth: a shirt, a bit of money, and a nameless notebook.
He closed his eyes, leaning against the cold wall.
He didn't know where to go.
Didn't even know why he'd left.
He just knew he couldn't stay.
---
That evening, Raiden stood in the trainers' hall.
Everyone was discussing the day's results, sharing evaluations.
He stayed silent.
Finally, someone asked:
– "One point short in the group stats today. Who left?"
He answered quietly:
– "Someone who decided to look for answers elsewhere."
Then added, unprompted:
> "Some stories don't begin within walls."
> "And some people… can't be trained — because they weren't born to follow."
---
The meeting ended.
But on a side board, someone had written in small letters:
> "Valmir, Kairn. Status: Voluntary Withdrawal. Note: Unqualified."
Later that night, someone walked by…
Took a small eraser… and removed just two words.
"Unqualified."
Leaving the space blank.
As if to say:
> The story hasn't even begun yet.