PFC Chapter 102 (Special Edition) Saki's Narrative
Chapter 102 (Special Edition) Saki's Narrative
I was abandoned on the streets of America, and as a tiny child, I was taken to a local orphanage by passersby.
I remember that it snowed heavily that day, and a kind nun covered me with a blanket. That was the first time I felt warmth.
It was a snowy day, and I used my short, small legs to slip out of the place where I had lived for three years while the nun wasn't looking.
A bearded Asian man with the gentlest and most endearing smile I'd ever seen invited me to walk with him. I felt a connection to my father, whom I'd never met. I took his hand, imagining—how wonderful it would be if he were my father.
This uncle and I were like a real father and son. We held hands, and he would occasionally put me on his shoulders. We ate ice cream and played on the swings. Even in such cold weather, with my uncle by my side, even the ice cream felt warm.
Even though I don't even know the name of this mysterious uncle.
But I told him that my surname is Saki, and as for my full name, the nun didn't know, and neither did I.
Time flew by, and my uncle drove me to a place where I saw many, many children inside a large, dark iron gate. My uncle said to me, "I wish my son were as healthy as you."
Driven by curiosity, I couldn't help but ask in broken English, "Why do you say that? Is he sick?"
The uncle looked up at the sky and said, "Yes, we still rely on machines to keep them alive."
"Pisco?" A person suddenly walked over, startling me. But I think I knew my uncle's name—Pisco, but would anyone really have such a strange name?
Later, that man led me through the big iron gate, and I never saw that uncle again.
The world inside the big iron gate was somewhat terrifying. Unlike the orphanage, there were always fierce-looking, burly men near the walls, each with a small, dark "box" tucked into their waistband. My friend told me that those were weapons that could fire terrifying things.
Since I arrived here, I haven't had a chance to sneak out. I wanted to find that uncle, but the man in black at the door pointed at my forehead with that "black box" and asked me if I didn't want to live anymore.
Out of fear of the "black box," I didn't choose to run away again, but I really couldn't understand why that uncle would send me to such a place.
I don't know when it started, but every day people dressed in black would come and teach us how to fight. Some of my friends were killed by one of those people in black with a "black box" because they performed too poorly. I could only keep practicing hard because I was afraid of being killed... The person in black told us that this world is about survival of the fittest, and the weak don't deserve to live.
I don't know how long it was before I received a reward and praise in class for the first time, and I clearly felt that I wanted more rewards.
My teacher praised me for being very talented, so I trained even harder, however—
I've fallen ill.
I lay in the hospital bed for two months, watching helplessly as my teacher's eyes turned cold, and the admiration he once showed me vanished.
He said, "It's no use. Send it to the research group tomorrow."
Then, I lost consciousness.
When I woke up again, I was strapped to an operating table. I struggled in terror and saw a group of people in white coats surrounding me, raising their gleaming knives...
—I was strapped to the bed with surgical stitches all over my body, my mouth taped shut. There were many other people in the same situation around me, their empty eyes reflecting my terrified expressions.
Gradually, I lost all sense of time. All I knew was that I had taken the bitterest pills, seen the sharpest knives leave marks on my body, and endured inexplicable pain...
I can not be reconciled.
My teacher said that as long as I train hard, I can pass the exam and learn from more capable people, see a wider world, and become an even more capable person.
Why should I endure the torment of those white coats here? I could have continued to receive instruction from my teachers, become a "more capable person," step out of that iron gate, and see a wider world, instead of being stuck here with my eyes open and only seeing a blank white ceiling.
I hate those who abused me. I rebelled, I resisted relentlessly, and I was beaten again and again, until I was covered in wounds and on the verge of death.
For a long time, my consciousness was in a blur. The little grass that wanted to fight back grew and was broken, broken and grew back...
As I was hung pathetically on the life support device, the two men in black guarding me pointed at me and laughed maniacally—because I had bitten them several times during my resistance, almost tearing flesh off them. My current wretched state was what made them laugh so gleefully.
They kept hurling provocative and vulgar insults at me, and I couldn't move or speak; I could only listen and endure it.
Is all that my defiant resistance has earned me but solitary silence and sorrow?
"Wow, it's so lively here."
It was the figure of a boy. I wanted to look up to see what was going on, but I could only see that the two men in black had already hurriedly knelt down, and the empty room was no longer filled with insults.
At that moment, I felt as if my "angel" had come.
Because no one has ever stopped others from committing atrocities against me.
"Lord Jundu..."
"Aren't you going to make a scene? We could hear you from far away. How useless and pathetic must you be to insult someone who can't move?"
"I'm sorry, sir, we were wrong..."
"Get out of here and clean toilets for two months. Just because Pei Nuo doesn't have time to care doesn't mean I can't. If you do it again, you'll be lying in this life support device too."
Such oppressive words! Although I couldn't move, I subconsciously felt fear—was this the "more powerful person" the teacher was talking about?
"We'll go right away!"
Then the hurried footsteps faded into the distance until silence returned.
My heart was pounding. I desperately wanted to become as amazing as him. After such a long time, I had a goal and motivation again, even though this motivation came out of nowhere.
……
When I opened my eyes, I saw a new ceiling; the only thing that remained unchanged was the white coat standing in front of me.
"You are very lucky; you are the first test subject to experiment with this drug."
An American man holds a red and white capsule, smiling broadly.
I felt an intense, bone-melting pain, and their eyes shifted from indifference to shock...
After a lot of physical data was recorded, I was sent back. Soon a man entered the room, looked everyone over, and then ordered his men to lift me up and take me away.
I realized then that I had finally returned to the path I wanted to take. I recalled the various moves my teacher had taught me, and even though I hadn't practiced them properly in a long time, I could still execute them with ease.
I won.
I killed all my competitors with the moves I remembered and the knife in my hand.
I finally have the right to chase the sun.