Chapter 12

Fields and Fish 

So it really was a “magic book,” huh? 

Standing before a massive glass window, the boy known as S11 stared at the floating book before him, lost in thought. 

His face was expressionless—calm and quiet. 

That night had been just like this one: a deep, still night. He had stood in the same spot, surging with the strongest energy he’d ever felt. With his left hand, he had reached out… 

He thought he could tear open the tranquil night sky—or at least shatter the cage that held him. 

Instead— 

He grabbed a book. 

This very book. 

And along with it, a tattoo appeared on his left hand. 

The symbol on his skin matched the one on the book’s cover exactly. 

He had spent a lot of time studying the book since then. To cover up his obsession with it, he asked for many other books to be brought to him. But despite his efforts, he couldn’t understand a single word of the magic book—and could only open one page. 

As for the other books, he could barely recognize most of the words. And even when he could, the meaning escaped him entirely. 

Those in charge had sent numerous caretakers and tutors, but their aim was never to educate him. Left to his own devices, how much could he really learn? 

But today, when the man named Juan read to him, he listened carefully. 

He couldn’t help it. Juan had clearly read under duress, forced into an exchange, and that reluctance made it all the more entertaining. 

At first, the boy had simply enjoyed watching Juan struggle to do something against his will. But once Juan began reading, his reluctance faded entirely. Sitting there, posture straight, voice steady, Juan read with clarity and precision. 

His pace was unhurried, and the poetry, recited in his calm, clear tone, sounded absolutely beautiful.

Strangely enough, the man’s voice wasn’t particularly pleasant, but whenever he read poetry, it sounded extraordinarily beautiful. 

At first, the boy had only been interested in watching the man. But by the end, he found himself listening to the poetry while watching him read. 

When the man left, the boy felt a hint of reluctance. 

As he was lost in thought, the magic book hovering in mid-air suddenly dropped against his chest with a soft thud. Ignoring it, he instead picked up the poetry collection Juan had read earlier and began leafing through it. 

At first, he couldn’t get into it and wanted to toss it aside. But just as he was about to give up, he stumbled upon the page Juan had read that afternoon. As he reread it, the man’s voice and expression vividly reappeared in his mind. 

With his mind calm, he continued reading. Before he realized it, he had read more than half the book—and eventually fell asleep with the collection in his arms. 

That night, for the first time, his dream had color. 

The colors were faint, very faint. 

Even though he only slept for a few hours, it felt like a good dream. 

So, the next morning, when the surveillance devices disguised as birds woke him, he was surprisingly in a good mood. 

In good spirits, he blasted the “birds” out of the air, climbed a tree to pick fresh flowers, and carefully arranged them into a bouquet. With a bright smile, he made his way to the entrance to wait for his teacher. 

—

When Juan arrived, not only was the boy waiting with a cheerful grin, but one of the researchers responsible for him was also there. 

The researcher’s office was next to the boy’s room, along the path Juan always took to work. Just as Juan arrived, another male researcher—different from the one he met the previous day—greeted him with a friendly smile and offered him coffee. When Juan declined, the man wasn’t bothered and instead asked some casual questions about the previous day. 

He didn’t press for details, nor did he inquire about the bandage wrapped around Juan’s left hand, merely offering some ointment without asking how he got injured. 

It didn’t seem like he was asking about work progress, nor did it feel like genuine concern for Juan’s well-being. His questions were scattered, with no particular focus. 

Small talk?

After pondering for a while, Juan decided to categorize their conversation as meaningless chit-chat—just one of those interactions humans use to build familiarity with each other. 

Juan played along until the researcher handed him a tray. 

“This is breakfast for you and S11. You can have it together.” 

Carrying the tray, Juan entered the boy’s room. 

But the food on the tray would all be thrown away. 

Neither Juan nor the boy ate it. 

The first time Juan brought in a tray, the boy had simply smiled and watched him place it on the small table. But he never touched the food. And since the boy didn’t eat, Juan obviously wouldn’t either. 

At noon, the boy glanced at the untouched tray and said with a smile, “Let’s throw it out.” 

It wasn’t a suggestion—it was a statement. 

Following the boy, Juan wound his way through the room until they arrived at a small lake. 

There were fish in it. 

He knew because the fish swam eagerly toward the boy, mouths wide open and unafraid, clearly used to being fed. 

Sure enough— 

The next moment, Juan saw the boy toss the entire tray into the lake. The fish swarmed, devouring both the food and, eventually, the tray itself. 

Juan: … 

Raising an eyebrow, the boy gestured toward the fish. “Look, these are the fish I take care of.” 

Then he pointed at the tall grass by the pond. “And those are the vegetables I grow.” 

Juan: … 

The boy didn’t seem to mind Juan’s silence, continuing to chatter as if talking to himself. 

“These fish came from the batch they put in when they built the lake. They ate all the original fish, and when they started eating each other, I found out. So I started throwing them the food they gave me.” 

“Then I ate the fish,” he said, pointing at one with sharp teeth. 

“And I found out these plants are edible too. They’re a bit spicy, but still edible,” he added, gesturing to the tall grass. 

The more Juan looked at the grass, the more it resembled… green onions. 

Shifting his gaze from the suspiciously onion-like plants, Juan stared at the lake. 

The entire place was fascinating. 

It was supposedly just a room, yet it was so vast. It felt like anything but a room. 

The ground beneath their feet was soft, lush grass. Trees were scattered throughout—not ancient, but clearly not newly planted either. And then there was the lake. A lake, in a room. 

And yet, despite its open appearance, it was a room. 

Juan tilted his head back to look up. The glass ceiling and the window frames, shaped like cracked eggshells, reminded him that this was a sealed space. 

The essential furniture—chairs, tables, and sofas—was scattered naturally throughout the room, blending in with the surroundings. 

But no matter how natural it looked, the room still felt like a cage. 

“Feels like a cage, doesn’t it?” The boy smirked, reading Juan’s thoughts effortlessly. 

“Let’s read some more!” the boy suddenly suggested, dropping the topic. 

Juan’s eyes lit up. “The magic book?” 

With a mischievous grin, the boy shook the book in his hand. “No, no, no. A new poetry collection!” 

Juan: … 

And so, he ended up reading yet another poetry book. 

It wasn’t just poetry, either. The boy switched “lessons” frequently, trying out the art and music classes Juan had mentioned during his interview. He seemed to enjoy all of them. 

They read many books together—but not the magic book. 

Every day before leaving, Juan would remind the boy about the magic book. But every day, the boy would find an excuse to delay it just a little longer.

Today was no exception-

As usual, Juan glanced at the clock and brought up the familiar question: 

“When are we going to start reading the magic book?” 

For him, this was basically the equivalent of saying, “Class is over, see you later.” 

It was the same for the boy. Smiling, the boy closed the picture book he had been looking at and stood up, accompanying Juan to the exit like always. 

Juan assumed the boy would use another excuse to delay it, but then— 

“See you next time.”

“Next time, we’ll read that magic book you mentioned.” 

As the door opened, the boy suddenly said this. 

Juan turned back in surprise, but it was too late—the door had already shut behind him. 

Yet, those parting words were enough to fill him with excitement for the next day! 

However, when he arrived at work the following day, he discovered that “next time” had just been another excuse. 

S11 wasn’t there—Juan had no work to do that day.

Juan, feeling betrayed.