My consciousness felt as though it was being lifted slowly from deep water.
Not pulled.
Not dragged.
Lifted—carefully, deliberately, as if whoever was doing it knew exactly how much force to use.
The first thing to return was sensation.
Temperature.
It wasn't heat. It wasn't cold either. It was something in between, a soft, almost formless warmth that spread gradually from my fingertips, creeping up my arms, settling into my chest, then flowing down into my legs.
I frowned without realizing it.
This feeling…
Something was wrong.
It was too gentle.
I opened my eyes.
My vision wavered. Light stretched into elongated smears, like reflections seen through rippling water. Shapes existed, but they refused to settle into meaning. It took a few seconds—maybe longer—for the blur to recede and the outlines to sharpen.
That was when I saw her.
Alma.
She was standing inside the glass chamber with me.
Her posture was relaxed, but not careless. One hand was raised, hovering just a short distance from my chest. From her palm flowed a faint green glow, thin and translucent, like mist illuminated by sunlight.
The light wasn't bright.
It didn't sting my eyes.
And yet, the moment I saw it, something inside me loosened.
It was instinctive.
The kind of response you don't think about, the way your body reacts before your mind has time to catch up.
I had never experienced anything like this before.
It didn't feel like protection.
It didn't feel like healing either.
Those words were too small.
What I felt was closer to permission.
As if something—or someone—had briefly decided that my existence was acceptable.
That I could stay.
The green light lasted only a short while.
It dimmed gradually, retracting into her palm until it vanished completely. With it, the strange warmth faded.
The weight in my body disappeared.
The stiffness in my limbs eased.
The raw burning pain left behind by my earlier screaming receded, leaving nothing but a distant memory.
I drew a slow breath.
"So… you're an ability user too?"
The question slipped out before I could stop it.
The moment I heard my own voice, I froze.
It sounded normal.
Too normal.
Clear. Steady. Not hoarse, not shaky. Nothing like the voice of someone who had just blacked out moments ago.
Alma let out a small, quiet breath. Her shoulders relaxed, just slightly, as if she had been holding tension she hadn't wanted to show.
"That's right," she said, smiling.
"I'm an ability user too. Same as you."
She paused, then added, "B-rank."
"…B-rank?"
The term echoed uselessly in my head.
It was familiar, yet strangely distant, like a label I knew existed but had never truly belonged to me.
"Wasn't I C-rank?"
The memory surfaced immediately.
I was thirteen again, sitting in a white room, staring at a sheet of paper.
C-rank.
Low risk.
Low priority.
Those words had been printed cleanly, dispassionately, as if they described an object instead of a person.
Before Alma could answer, footsteps approached.
Danny.
He stopped beside us, his gaze steady, unreadable.
"Have there been any changes recently?" he asked.
"Or has someone been systematically teaching you how to train your ability?"
"No."
The answer came out almost instantly.
"No," I repeated. "Nothing like that."
Then, without thinking—
"I was just with Seven—"
The words cut off mid-sentence.
My throat tightened.
It felt as if something had caught there, invisible but immovable.
Why did I say that?
Why did that name come so easily to my tongue, as if it were the most natural reference point in the world?
Danny didn't interrupt.
He didn't question me.
He simply looked at me.
The glance was brief. Controlled. Yet it carried enough weight that I found myself looking away, my eyes dropping to the floor without conscious decision.
The silence lingered for half a second longer.
Then the process moved on.
Everything after that happened quickly.
Too quickly.
I was led back into the main hall, this time to the opposite side. A row of service windows stretched across the wall, evenly spaced, each one identical to the last.
The layout stirred an odd sense of familiarity.
It reminded me of a district government office.
The same sterile efficiency.
The same clear instructions.
The same understanding that your role was simply to comply.
"Hello! How may I help you?"
The clerk's smile was flawless, polished to perfection.
Danny spoke first. "J-203. Here for registration."
"Oh! A new partner!"
Her fingers danced lightly over the keyboard. The sound of the keys was soft, rhythmic.
"Please wait just a moment."
The machine hummed quietly.
A second passed.
Then another.
A narrow strip slid out of the printer—a barcode, long and thin, printed with absolute precision.
"Where would you like to place it?"
The question caught me off guard.
I looked down at myself, then back at her.
Place it… where?
For a moment, my mind went blank.
"…Most people place it on the inside of the left wrist."
She offered the answer smoothly, as if she had already expected my hesitation.
"Alright."
I extended my arm.
The barcode touched my skin.
Cold.
The sensation lingered for a second before fading, leaving the strip firmly adhered to the inside of my wrist. It felt strangely natural, as if it belonged there—as if my body had been missing it until now.
"This barcode is valid only within Freetown," she explained, her tone professional.
"It will automatically deactivate once you leave the area, but it can be reissued at any time."
"All your personal information is stored within it. Please rest assured—only Freetown's government agencies have access."
I nodded.
I heard her words, but they slid past without leaving much of an impression.
"Additionally, your account has already been activated," she continued.
"The points can be used at all stores within Freetown. To use them, simply say 'Check points' or 'Pay points.'"
Without thinking, I said, "Check points."
A faint warmth spread from my wrist.
Light shimmered.
Numbers appeared in my field of vision.
10000
I stopped breathing.
"…T-ten thousand?"
The clerk smiled and nodded, as if this were entirely ordinary.
"That's correct. Compensation for the research data you provided earlier, plus the standard base reward for a B-rank ability user."
"Then… what does ten thousand points mean?"
The question sounded stupid even to my own ears.
She answered without hesitation.
"Ten thousand points is equivalent to ten thousand Unity."
The air seemed to freeze.
For a few seconds, no one spoke.
My mouth was open, but my voice refused to come out.
This was the first time in my life I had ever owned this much money.
Not savings.
Not borrowed.
Mine.
The number was large enough to feel unreal.
Large enough that I couldn't decide whether fear or relief should come first.
The clerk noticed my expression and let out a small laugh.
"Just a word of advice," she said lightly.
"Don't show off your points outside."
"You might attract the wrong kind of friends."
I nodded stiffly.
As we turned to leave, she spoke again.
"Thank you for contributing a share of your strength to the future of ability users."
My steps halted.
"…Strength?"
I turned back.
The word felt wrong.
Too heavy. Too deliberate. It didn't belong among barcodes, counters, and polite smiles.
Danny stood beside me.
His voice was low.
Calm.
Certain.
"Yes. Strength."
"The data you provided—that is strength."
I didn't reply.
The barcode rested quietly on the inside of my wrist.
The number hovered at the edge of my vision, steady and unchanging.
At some point I couldn't clearly remember—
I had already been placed inside a system I hadn't yet begun to understand.