Chapter Text
The hall was quiet. Clinically, so. No one spoke unless spoken to. Too quiet for a place so full of life.
Tiny feet pattered softly on the cold floor. The boy’s muddy sneakers squeaked every few steps, breaking the silence like a misplaced melody.
The boy was small, no older than four, too small for the oversized blue sweater he wore. He walked between rows of glass-walled rooms, observing in silence like his father had told him. A colorful schoolbag hung from his shoulders, filled with papers and exercises only a kindergartener would have.
No one spared him much of a glance. It wasn’t the first time the little boy walked through those halls, they had grown used to him. Better train them young, some of them said. He’ll be a top agent by twenty, that kid.
Eventually, the glass-walled rooms shifted from offices to holding rooms. Some were dark. Others glowed with sterile, bright white lights. Inside, creatures shifted in shadows. Some stared back. Others didn’t dare look up.
He stopped in front of the darkest holding rooms, hands fidgeting with the hems of his sleeves. It was lit only by a faint strip of light overhead—temporary holding, he’d heard his Appa call it. Inside, a kid no older than him sat in the corner, his knees drawn to his chest, a single, tiny black wing curled protectively around him. His other wing twitched every few seconds involuntarily.
His face was partially covered by the wing, but his eyes were firmly planted on the schoolboy. Not recognizing him as a threat, but too afraid to unfurl his wings.
The schoolboy pressed his face to the window, a gummy smile appearing. “Hi.”
No answer.
“How are you?”
The crow hybrid’s wings lowered from his face slightly. He was pale, eyes a dark shade of black—exhausted, but alert, like he hadn’t felt safety in a long time. He didn’t move closer, barely blinking back, but he spoke.
“Who are you?” His voice was hoarse from disuse, and his articulation was that of someone who’d rarely spoken in his life.
The schoolboy didn’t seem to mind, pausing to think really hard about the question.
“Appa told me not to tell you my name,” He finally answered, frowning a bit. “Sorry.”
A pause.
“...you’re a human?”
The schoolboy nodded innocently, flashing his gummy smile once more.
“Yes!” he replied, swinging back and forth on the tips of his toes. “My Appa work here. He pick me up from kindergarten with Miss Hwang, but had to pick up some stuff. He said to wait here.”
The human smiled, proud to remember the instructions exactly. His Appa would be happy with him.
The crow hybrid's expression flashed some confusion at the vocabulary, but he didn’t answer.
Before either of them could speak again, yelling resonated through the walls from the end of the corridor.. The crow hybrid startled, pulling both of his wings to cover him completely. The human flinched, but stayed put, not unaccustomed to adults fighting.
The door to one of the restricted experimentation wings burst open with a sharp sound. Two figures—business people by appearance, but frantic in their movements—spilled into the corridor. One of them, a tall man in a disheveled suit, carried a limp child in his arms. The boy couldn’t have been older than seven. His skin was pale, body unresponsive. His hands hung uselessly at his sides, head loling back with each step.
The man’s voice cracked as he shouted, “I’m done!”
A woman followed close behind him, heels quick against the tiles in her frantic chase.
She reached for his arm. “Wait! Don’t do this. You don’t understand. They’re revolutionizing our hybrid problem—”
He twisted out of her grasp with a snarl, careful not to jostle the boy in his hold too sharply. “Are they? Because all I see is them trying to experiment and drug my son like a lab rat!”
He cradled his child closer, adjusting his small limbs so they didn’t dangle so helplessly. His jaw clenched. There were tears in his reddening eyes, but he didn’t let them fall.
“Don’t be dramatic,” the woman snapped, tapping her heel impatiently. “This is science. Progress. You were just on board this morning, and now you’re storming out like some emotional—”
“They strapped kids down!” he barked. “I watched them almost do it to my son. I stood behind the glass and watched you do nothing as they restrained and sedated your son! He screamed for you. Did you hear him? Or have you stopped caring about him entirely?”
The woman’s gaze darkened, her voice dropping to a hissed whisper. “Don’t you dare speak of my son. We’ve already lost one subject. We can’t lose another. You know how close we are to a breakthrough—”
“I don’t care,” he growled, voice strong like the thunder rumbling outside. “I can’t follow through. I won’t let them touch him again.”
Something cruel and cold flickered in the woman’s face. “Why? Is it because he’s like you ?”
He froze mid-step.
Her smile turned maliciously satisfied. “It is, isn’t it? That boy… he’s one of your kind.”
His gulp was almost audible as he swallowed. “A wolf?” he said carefully, a subtle, unmistakable shake to his voice.
The woman laughed, soft and venomous. “Oh, honey. We both know that’s not what I meant. And I’m sure the Warden would love to hear all about this beautiful detail.”
He turned fully toward her, voice tight with rage. His arms were tight around the boy. “Don’t you dare drag him into this.”
She only shrugged, a devilish grin on her face. “Run if you want, Choi. But don’t think for a second your son will ever be safe. Not from them. Not from what he is.”
He glanced down at the child, his body ready to break out into a sprint if necessary.
“And yours will?” He muttered, dryly.
“My son,” she said proudly, “Will be the first to fulfill our vision for the hybrid future. The others will follow.”
He shook his head. “You make me sick.”
From further down the hall, another voice broke the tension. Quiet, tired, but seemingly uninterested. “Let’s go, Hongjoong.”
Both adults turned.
Hongjoong still stood in front of the crow hybrid's cell, shoulders hunched, looking shocked at the adults. Too young to understand what he was seeing, but old enough to identify the anger in their voices.
He looked into the cell beside him for a second before nodding slowly at his father. “Coming, Appa.”
His hand lingered on the glass for a second longer. Then he turned and walked away behind his father.
His soft voice could be heard in the distance.
“Appa,” he said innocently. “Why is that boy sleeping?”
“Doesn’t matter, Hongjoong,” The man muttered, picking up his son so he couldn’t see behind them. “We’ll be late for dinner. Let’s not make Mom mad, okay?”
“Are we having chicken?”
“Yes,”
“Yay!”
Behind them, the corridor fell silent again.
Only the rumbling of thunder remained.