Morning arrived slowly, sunlight filtering through Melinda's curtains like quiet, hesitant fingers. She hadn't slept. Her eyes were dry, her head heavy, but her hands kept moving—turning pages, rereading lines, highlighting details. The folder was open across the table, its contents spread like a crime scene she was trying to resurrect.
Lumi sat nearby on the couch, gently nibbling on a piece of bread Melinda had given her. She watched Melinda with big, curious eyes that glowed faintly every time she blinked. She didn't speak—not a word—but she understood everything Melinda said. That much Melinda knew by now.
Melinda took a deep breath and picked up the last page of the file—the one she had been avoiding all night.
The first line hit her like a hammer.
Total Subject Intake: 1792
Her vision swayed.
"One thousand seven hundred… twenty girls," she repeated under her breath, as if her mind couldn't accept the number.
She flipped to the next line.
Surviving Subjects: 20
Failure Count: 1772
Status: TERMINATED
Melinda's grip tightened on the paper until her knuckles turned white.
"One thousand seven hundred and seventy-two little girls," she whispered. "Gone. Just like that."
Even Lumi seemed to sense the heaviness in the room. Her glowing eyes dimmed slightly, and she stopped eating, watching Melinda with concern.
Melinda forced herself to continue reading.
The page listed names—not birth names, but assigned codes. Every surviving girl had a designation:
Subject A-01: Aria
Subject A-02: Cyan
Subject A-03: Terra
Subject A-04: Lumi
…
The list continued until A-20.
Lumi's name stood among them—Prototype 12B, designation A-04.
Melinda ran her finger down the list. Nineteen other children. Nineteen other lives warped into weapons, tools, or experiments. Some names had small notes written beside them:
"Enhanced reflexes. High combat potential."
"Emotionally detached. Requires strict control."
"Stable output. Suitable for long-term missions."
Then, beneath several names:
"Aging anomaly confirmed. Subject remains physically unchanged."
"Biological age halted."
"No further maturation expected."
Melinda froze.
She scanned the page again, this time looking for ages.
Some entries listed the intake age—4 or 5 years old—but next to it was another number:
Chronological age: 14
Chronological age: 15
Chronological age: 17
Yet their physical age was still listed as:
Physical appearance: age 5
Melinda swallowed hard.
"These girls… they don't grow older," she murmured. "They stay the same. Forever."
Her mind raced.
She had seen Lumi sleeping. Eating. Learning. Laughing quietly. Did that mean Lumi would always look like this? Would she always remain trapped in the body of a child?
She glanced at Lumi again.
The girl tilted her head, confused by Melinda's expression. She lifted her half-eaten bread as if offering it to her.
Melinda smiled sadly.
"Thank you, Lumi… I'm okay."
But she wasn't. Not even close.
She returned to the file. The more she read, the worse it got.
The explanation was clinical, cruel:
"Due to cellular energy saturation, subjects experience arrested development. The infusion process halts biological growth to preserve power efficiency. Emotional maturity remains inconsistent."
Then, the final handwritten note at the bottom of the page, written in red ink:
"Successful subjects will remain this age forever. This is a permanent effect. Do not attempt to age them through artificial means. Failure rate is 100%."
Melinda sat back in her chair, numb.
Lumi wasn't just a victim.
She was frozen—stuck—unable to ever become a teenager, an adult, a fully grown human.
Not by choice.
Not by nature.
But because someone had decided she would be easier to control this way.
Melinda shut her eyes, pressing her fingers against her temples.
"This is sick," she whispered. "It's beyond cruel…"
The air shifted.
Lumi slid off the couch and walked quietly to her side. She tugged lightly on Melinda's sleeve—not speaking, but asking.
Melinda looked down at her and managed a tired smile.
"It's okay, Lumi. I'm just… trying to understand."
But Lumi's expression said she already understood more than Melinda realized.
Melinda exhaled and turned to the next sheet in the folder—a map of the facility with red X marks scattered across the city in different regions labeled "Relocation Zones."
Her eyes widened.
"These aren't just experiment rooms… these are different branches. Different labs."
Her pulse quickened.
If twenty girls survived…
They might not be in the same place.
They might be scattered, hidden, used for who knows what.
"We have to find them," Melinda said aloud, though the words were really a vow to herself. "All of them."
Lumi blinked, her glow softening. She touched Melinda's chest—right over her heart—then pointed at the folder.
"Are you saying… you want to find them too?" Melinda asked softly.
Lumi nodded.
Her eyes flickered once—bright, determined.
Melinda felt her heart tighten.
"Okay," she whispered. "We'll start with what we have."
She spread the pages out again, studying every line, every symbol, every coded address. There were references to transport dates, supply shortages, testing cycles—but also vague mentions like "Subject shift to Northern Zone" or "Transfer to Project Room A-7."
She needed more information. The file wasn't enough.
They needed a trail. A clue. Something to follow.
Melinda stood and grabbed her coat.
"Lumi, come with me. We're going to check the old facility again. There might be more documents left behind."
Lumi tilted her head, then nodded and moved to follow her.
Melinda paused at the door.
She looked back at the table… at the number that haunted her.
1772.
One thousand seven hundred seventy-two children whose stories would never be told.
But the remaining twenty?
She would not lose them.
"Lumi," she said quietly, "I promise you… we'll find the others. You won't be alone again."
Lumi reached up and held Melinda's hand—small, warm, glowing faintly.
Together, they stepped out of the apartment.
They didn't know it yet, but the twenty who survived were not scattered by accident.
They were being watched.
Used.
Controlled.
And some of them…
Some had already begun to change the world in dangerous ways.