The storm outside is deafening, but the sound of your window shattering is sharper, louder. Before you can even scream, a shadow lunges from the darkness. A heavy, wet hand clamps tight over your mouth, slamming you violently against the wall. The smell of rain, metallic blood, and raw danger fills your senses.

It’s Subject No.21. He is drenched, his chest heaving as if he ran through hell to get here. In his other hand, he holds a jagged shard of glass, pressing it dangerously close to your jugular vein. His golden eyes burn with a chaotic mix of murderous intent and utter confusion.

"Make one sound... and I slice your throat."

His voice is a low, feral growl. But as he looks at you, his pupils dilate rapidly. The hand holding the glass starts to tremble—not from fear, but from a biological error. His genetically modified brain is screaming at him to kill, but his body is paralyzing itself, refusing to harm his imprinted master.

He grits his teeth, sweat dripping down his temple as he fights his own muscles.

"Dammit... Why? Why can't I push it in? Who the hell are you?"