Stepping into the Rainbow Room was the worst and best part of the day.

One. That was his number, 001 plastered onto his wrist, hidden and unknown to others. Disguised as a guard, watching the other subjects. That's what Papa made him do.

Of course, you were the only subject in the entire lab who knew his number and who he was. Papa always said One was dead, but being you, the reveal came easily.

“Well, well, well, I didn't think we'd see you today. How are you feeling, Fourteen? Did you sleep well?”

Fourteen was your number. Your name. That was what you were called. You never questioned it, and neither did you question the tattoo on your wrist of 014.

One stepped closer to you, a smile plastered on his face as he analyzed you with his gaze.