My Measurement: The Villain Desires a Satisfying Payback

"―Numbers 135, 136, 137, and 138."

Ka-chunk-!

Following the words of the man in the white lab coat holding a clipboard, the sealed tight cell doors unlocked with a loud noise and rattled open.

"Come out," His stern voice resounded.

We―numbers 136 and 137―exited our cells that faced each other, sandwiched between two others; an older woman and a young man.

All of us wore simple, one-piece white hospital gowns as our only clothes.

"Stand in line. Don't fuss."

He commanded us as if speaking down to vermin, and in reality, that's exactly what we were.

"Numbers 139, 140, 141, and 142."

Ka-chunk-!

Announcing the next four numbers, the 'thunk' sound of more cells opening resounded.

"Come out."

This time, however, only two people of the four emerged from their cells.

"141. 142. Come out now."

"...Ugh... Urgh... Eugh..."

A small rustling was heard, and a girl not that much older than us stumbled out of her cell, groaning.

"Urk...!"

Thud-!

She fell to the floor.

Helpless, her hands and feet were already bound, so whatever problem she was having that hindered her walking would have only been exacerbated under these constrictive conditions.

"142. Get up."

Still, the man called her number, but she, who had collapsed, didn't move.

We weren't sure at the time whether it was "didn't move" or "couldn't move", but we didn't have time to find out the answer.

"...Take her."

At the man's foreboding instructions, two guards―covered head-to-toe in white overalls that obscured their faces and armed with machine guns on their backs―approached and roughly grabbed the girl by the arms, forcing her off the ground.

"Eugh...! N-No... No...! No, no, no, no-!!"

The girl vigorously shook her head and screamed, swinging her legs and twisting her body in a futile attempt to resist as the guards took her without a word.

We saw the tears streaming down her face like a waterfall as they carried her past us.

"NO! No...! A-Aaaahhh!! No...! Nooo! Help...!

Someone help...! Stop! Aahhhhh...!!"

Of course, we sympathised with the girl, and if possible we wouldn't want her to go through the pain she is experiencing.

However―there was not a sliver of intention within us to try and help.

Nothing good would come of it.

It was her fault for not listening to the man's instructions in the first place.

"It hurts...! Stop...! Aaaaeeghhhk-!"

And, we didn't know what it was at the time, but there appeared to be a red stain around her groyne area.

Since we saw a red liquid drip from her crotch down her leg and onto the floor, all we knew was that it was most likely blood, and that it was most likely the thing responsible for why she refused to stand in line.

"Aaaaaaahhh--!!"

Her wailing abruptly cut off in the middle as the door at the end of the hallway shut behind them, and a momentary silence descended upon the rest of us.

"141. Last chance. Come out."

The man's cold words rang clearly, but when the next few seconds passed in absolute quiet, he nodded towards another pair of guards who then walked over and entered the cell.

"A-ah!? Let--let go!"

The voice of an older man echoed from the cell.

Of course, the guards did not free him, and as they were about to force him out of the cell, a shout was heard.

"Gaaahhhh...!!"

Crackle-!

Slam-!

"Ahg...!?

Slam-!

"Kahk...!"

Slam-!

―Suddenly, something like the electronic crackling of electricity could be heard for a moment, before heavy sounds emanated from within the cell, alongside reactive grunts and violent coughs.

Nothing happened for a moment, but the two guards then exited the cell, the dense metallic batons they held bloodied, and stuck with pieces of torn skin.

As they returned to their previous positions, the cell locked behind them and the clipboard-holding man continued.

"Numbers 135, 136, 137, 138, 139, 140, and 142. Follow me."

Rattle-!

Surrounded on all sides by guards, we walked in a single-file line through the white, panelled halls of the decor-less facility.

Soon, we arrived at our location. More men in white lab coats and suits appeared and sorted us into separate rooms, where we were forced to strip and lie down on a white table, our bodies restrained by thick constraints of the same black metal as our shackles.

Tsch-!

As our blood was taken, all we could do was think, but even that was limited by the pain of the procedure that overwhelmed our minds.

Glancing around the blank room for any kind of entertainment was pointless―everything was just white, and instead of purity, it only gave us a sense of longing and dread.

―The longing for natural colours; the colours we only happened to witness briefly on a rare occasion; the colours which were our favourites, and the dread that we will never be able to see those sorts of rich colours in their beautiful, natural abundance.

Because this was not a natural place in the slightest.

The three colours we see are white, black, and red.

―The white of the facility uniforms as well as its walls, floors and ceilings.

―The black of the cell bars and the restraints that bind us.

―And the red of the blood that is taken from us both in the form of blood tests and in relentless beatings.

After our blood was drained, stored in vials and taken to a place we would never see, we would feel weak, but we didn't have the option to take something like a break.

Next, we would have to take a series of cognitive ability tests, physical ability tests, have our weight and height checked, and similar things.

Finally, we would be held yet again in another capsule-like bed, wrapped with several of the same black bindings, and after having our blood taken for the second time of the day, we would be injected with all kinds of unknown substances, upon which a thirty minute break would be given.

Said thirty minute break is merely us lying in the bed for thirty minutes, unable to move a finger.

After that break, our blood was taken for the third time, and at the end of the day, we would be enervated, escorted back to our cells and given our one meal of the day, before finally being let to rest.

It was all a daily occurrence, and no disturbances were to be tolerated.

Anyone who so much as slightly disrupted this strict routine would be mercilessly punished.

Number 136; birth name: Sana.

Number 137; birth name: Sona.

Our earliest memory is of a blurry-faced woman handing us away to men dressed in white.

Ever since that day, we have lived our life in an utterly lifeless place, and whether it could even be called living was arguable.

We were nothing, plain and simple―Nothing more than objects of study for these people to research.

This process continued every single day; every week and every month of every year.

For seven-and-a-half years.

From when we were three years old to when we were ten-and-a-half.

BANG--!

"Shut the fuck up!"

――Until one day.

"...Make so much as a sneeze and you die, no questions asked."

One day, it all changed, starting with the not-so-unfamiliar sound of screaming and gunfire.

Suddenly a voice nobody had ever heard before rang out.

From the tone of the person speaking, it was clear that they weren't someone who worked here, but in that case, who were they?

"He-hey, who are you?! You're not one of them! Are you gonna get us outta here?!"

Cell Number 118. We often heard him crying for help alone in his cell during the night.

118 was a kid quite a bit older than us who was brought in quite a lot later, so not only did he have memories of the outside world and wanted to get out because of it, but he hadn't spent a long enough time here to learn how things work.

"I spoke in a clear-enough voice, but are you perhaps deaf?"

We could already foresee what the outcome of his unnecessary calling out to the unknown person would be.

"Wha...? What, no! I asked who you we--"

All we could hear was a quiet popping sound that interrupted 118's sentence and a thud that followed, but that was all we needed to know that he was no longer with us.

The stranger seemed pleased at the fact no one else spoke up, and he began walking down past all the cells.

Eventually, he stopped in front of two in particular.

"Ah, there you are. You two, you're coming with me."

He pointed at us as he declared so.

His words were contradictory. Just before, he had executed 118 for speaking, so if we responded to him, then we might also be killed. Making a mistake like speaking up when we weren't actually supposed to and getting killed for it was not a mistake that we wanted to make, so we decided to stay silent.

"You're not intellectually challenged, are you? I give you express permission to talk to me, so tell me if you'd like to come with me willingly or if I'll have to make you."

However, his next words were giving us permission to act.

Relieved, we took it as though we would be safe for now, although we did not know what his reason for being here and coming to us was.

We weren't sure how he did it, but the man proceeded to open our cells.

Exiting our cells for the first time without being dragged out by guards, we didn't know how to feel. All we knew was that we were glad to be together.

"That's enough. Do you want me to bring you with force or not?"

Our time was cut short, but we knew that we had no right to complain. Still, if this man was saying such things, it would be better to ask.

"Do we have a choice...?"

"We'll come, but please take care of us."

"Better than this place, at least..."

We thought it would be okay to make such requests as the minimum. After all, it would be difficult even if you tried to take worse care of us than this place did.

"No, you don't have a choice."

―Although, thinking that might really happen, we were shocked for a moment.

"But, well, it would be inconvenient for me to not treat you well, so I suppose I'll be looking after you. I do have to take care of what's useful to me, after all."

The last of his words was a key point of information we picked up on.

Being useful.

Perhaps instinctively, we realised this was the key.

"Please, if it's okay..."

"Can you bring someone else with us...?"

"He won't be a burden to you."

"He can be useful to you."

""We promise.""

We thought that if we could provide another useful person to our saviour, then he might take better care of us in return.

Emir was in a different block now, but there was the occasional transfer of cells. We didn't forget the time he had defended us from getting into trouble, so we thought we would help him too.

He did take a beating in our stead, so we felt the need to repay him.

"Um..."

"...Our names..."

"I'm Sona..."

"...I'm Sana..."

We swore to each other that we would try our best to be useful to this man who not only took us out of the facility but who also listened to our selfish requests.

"I don't care. Get on."

―Even now, he was being too kind by offering to carry us on his body because we couldn't walk.

We wanted to know the name of this man who saved us, but he declined. One day, we thought, he will tell us.

And, though maybe not on that day, but one day in the future for sure...

We will thank him for all he has done for us.

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