D-class personnel

"Hey, Zhou Ze, time to get up." A slightly hoarse male voice rang out in the darkness.

Still bleary-eyed, Zhou Ze rolled over in bed and mumbled, "It's not like I have work. What's the point of getting up so early..."

Zhou Ze wasn't actually sleeping all that deeply.

As a former, thoroughly typical young corporate drone, he had long since grown used to early mornings and late nights.

Even on his days off, he had to stay on guard for calls from his coworkers.

During those miserable days, Zhou Ze had resented everyone around him equally, especially the lucky bastards who could still sleep in every day.

Before crossing over, he had wanted to be one of those lucky bastards too.

As for now...

Just as Zhou Ze's consciousness was about to sink back into darkness, a faint but distinct chewing sound suddenly filled the room.

It sounded as though someone was leisurely savoring a delicacy: first a gentle nibbling, then careful chewing, and finally a satisfied sucking. In the silent darkness, it was especially grating, yet somehow whetted the appetite.

"You're so damn loud! Old Yang, can't you keep it down?!" Zhou Ze snapped, irritated by the noise.

The chewing stopped abruptly. Only after a long pause did Old Yang reply flatly.

"Oh..."

At the same time, however, the hunger rising in Zhou Ze's stomach left him in no mood to sleep.

With no other choice, he felt around for the switch beside his bed and pressed it.

On the grayish-white ceiling, a dim yellow fluorescent light flickered erratically, giving off a faint hum.

Zhou Ze lay on the hard bed, staring at the wavering light and feeling the blood flowing through this body he had yet to fully grow accustomed to.

The cramped room contained only a single bed, a small wooden table, a plastic stool, and a tiny washroom partitioned off beside the door.

"Old Yang, what time is it?"

Yawning, Zhou Ze rolled out of bed and trudged toward the washroom.

"Still half asleep, are you? How would I know?" Old Yang answered indistinctly.

At that, Zhou Ze stopped in his tracks, scratched his head, and muttered to himself, "Right. Who the hell knows what time it is..."

The place Zhou Ze had found himself in after crossing over seemed to be a large military base, controlled by a mysterious organization called the Anomaly Containment Facility.

As one of the organization's Class-D Personnel, his only job was to "volunteer" for a series of experiments.

Of course, rather than laboratory technicians, these so-called Class-D Personnel were more like lab rats.

How well could lab rats possibly be treated?

This room, measuring less than twenty square meters, didn't even have a window. He couldn't tell day from night, much less the exact time.

Zhou Ze entered the washroom and turned on the tap.

Through the rushing water, he could faintly hear Old Yang beginning to enjoy his breakfast again.

He looked up at the mirror. A delicate-featured young man stood in the reflection, his slightly upturned eyes giving him a harmless look.

It had been almost half a month since Zhou Ze had crossed over, but seeing this unfamiliar face still left him feeling a little dazed every time.

Crossing over for no apparent reason, then becoming a lab rat for no apparent reason, forced to undergo utterly baffling experiments-it all felt so unreal, like a nightmare he would never wake from.

Still, having a roommate he got along with reasonably well counted as a blessing amid the misfortune.

Zhou Ze took a tray laden with food from the shelf beside the door, sat on the little stool at the wooden table, and picked up a pair of plastic chopsticks.

Although the food on the tray had gone completely cold, he had to admit that it was an unusually lavish breakfast.

Rice porridge, greens, steamed buns, fried dough sticks, a fried egg, lobster baked in cream sauce-it had everything.

Just then, Old Yang, who had his back to Zhou Ze, started making slurping noises again as he ate.

"Old Yang, what are you eating? You sure seem to be enjoying it." Zhou Ze paused with his chopsticks over the vegetables and asked curiously.

The ceiling light flickered. In its dim glow, Old Yang slowly turned his head.

His eyes were crimson and bloodshot, and a sticky scarlet substance clung to his mouth.

Under the flickering light, it gleamed ominously, like freshly clotted blood or some thick jam, slowly sliding from the corner of his mouth.

Old Yang stared at Zhou Ze with those bloodshot eyes for a moment, then slowly spread his lips.

"Beef sashimi. Want some?"

"Is that shit even fit for human consumption?" Zhou Ze curled his lip in disgust and waved his chopsticks as though shooing him away. "And watch your table manners, would you? Don't get it everywhere..."

"Oh." Old Yang turned his head back around.

Zhou Ze sighed silently. His appetite gone, he picked listlessly at his breakfast.

In this godforsaken place, Class-D Personnel lived on thin ice, and people developing mental problems were a common sight.

Take the guy in the next room, for example. A few days earlier, Zhou Ze had still occasionally heard him howling like a tormented soul, whether from a mental breakdown or sheer loneliness, provoking a barrage of curses from the security staff.

But since yesterday, there hadn't been a sound.

Presumably, he was dead.

So even if Old Yang had a few little quirks, Zhou Ze didn't mind much. At most, he tried to reason with him.

Nobody had it easy...

Zhou Ze swallowed the last mouthful of porridge. Suddenly, as though remembering something, he set down his chopsticks and called to the man with his back to him, "Old Yang..."

"Hmm?"

Old Yang turned around, his face even bloodier now, with a slender piece of something white clenched between his lips.

It was long and curved, with a smooth surface. One end was slightly thicker, while the other tapered, and a thick red jellylike substance clung to it.

Zhou Ze froze, the rest of his sentence catching in his throat. Only after a long pause did he squeeze out a few words. "Fuck, weren't you eating beef sashimi? Where'd the bone come from?"

"Chicken-foot sashimi..." Old Yang explained indistinctly, then sucked the remaining length of the white object into his mouth.

The crunching sounded especially harsh in the silent room. Old Yang seemed to struggle a little as he chewed, his Adam's apple bobbing until he finally swallowed it.

He smiled at Zhou Ze, a little scarlet liquid still clinging to the corners of his mouth, glaring against his pallid teeth.

"You..." Zhou Ze pointed at him, looking exasperated. "Forget it... Where did you get all this culinary nightmare fuel, anyway?"

With meticulous care, Old Yang took out a handkerchief and wiped around his mouth. Soon, his sharply defined face was revealed to Zhou Ze.

His thick stubble couldn't conceal his haggard appearance, and his sunken eyes and prominent cheekbones conveyed an indescribable air of dejection.

"Didn't the guy next door go for an experiment yesterday..." Old Yang smiled faintly, tucked the handkerchief away inside his clothes, and said, "I asked if he could share a little with me. He didn't object, so I brought some back."

"I see..." Zhou Ze fell silent for a moment, then sighed softly. "Sounds like he was a good guy too..."

Most of the time, Class-D Personnel received fairly ordinary food. Only the two meals before and after work were much more lavish, so getting sashimi was perfectly reasonable if someone specifically asked for it.

Zhou Ze called those two meals the last suppers, although not everyone got to eat the second one...

Still, anyone willing to share his last supper naturally counted as a good person.

"Speaking of which..." At that thought, Zhou Ze suddenly looked down at the empty tray before him. "Today's breakfast... sure was lavish. Ha... ha."

Old Yang blinked with a cheerful smile and burst his bubble without mercy. "Yep. Your last supper."

"D-87465, what are you muttering to yourself about in there?"

A pair of indifferent eyes suddenly appeared in the viewing window on the door, and a cold voice said, "Come out. It's time for work."