The ICU made it clear—they won't be helping me in any way throughout this mission. Basically saying, "Figure it out yourself."
I wish I was still naive enough to think this was all a test. But chances are… they're sending me off to die.
Ha. Haha.
Sooo funny.
Hilarious even.
Not that I blame them. I'm weak. I'll probably just get in the way. That's why I have to get stronger—become an asset.
It's been two months now. I've been patiently waiting for the next testing, the one where they recruit more deviants. Usually, I wouldn't stand a chance. I can't activate my gift. But this time, the stakes are lower—they're accepting hundreds of deviants due to rising tensions with a neighboring district over land.
They say it's "optional" to join once you've been discovered as a deviant.
I couldn't help but scoff.
Once someone's exposed, their name and face are uploaded into the system, making it impossible to get a job anywhere else. No human wants to hire a deviant—especially when we're blamed for 80% of the crime rate.
It's gotten so bad that anyone caught outside past 10 p.m. is at risk. People die every day. The country's a mess. But instead of fixing the corrupt system, people would rather blame the outcome than the root cause.
Whenever tensions between districts rise, the government doubles down on deviants—cornering us financially, socially, emotionally—until we're left with no choice but to apply as war weapons under the name Special Agents Unit.
Getting in isn't the problem. They'll accept anyone.
The problem is surviving.
The death rate during training alone is 50%—and that's for people with powers. I can't imagine my chances without them.
I gulped, clenching my fists.
Survival aside, "Black" is in the top 1%. Regular trainees don't even see the top 20%.
The government ranking system, made public ten years ago, hasn't changed:
Top 80%
Top 50%
Top 20%
And the Top 10 get their names listed individually.
Trainees under the top 80%?
They either die during training or get killed off.
It's the same system the ICU uses.
I ranked 779 out of 1000.
In all honesty, I only got in because of my connection with my adopted father—a high-ranking ICU agent. I'm strong for someone who hasn't activated their powers yet, but that's not enough.
There's a way to trigger deviant powers.
The file I stole that day… I don't know if the government can still produce the medication that activates them, but the ICU probably can. They're likely working on it right now.
I've tried everything else. Nothing works.
Deviant powers, like everything else about being one, are a curse. They can be triggered by strong emotion, artificial enhancement… or near-death trauma.
The last one? You do something that should kill you and hope your power activates in time to save you. Only 20% survive.
Even then, the more a deviant uses their gift, the more damage it does. The stronger we get, the worse the consequences. Sure, our bodies heal three times faster than humans, but using too much power at once? It can destroy you instantly.
So yeah. Once I join, I either die… or activate my gift (and maybe die later from some unrelated incident—yay me).
The test is in two days.
I need a solid plan. I need to find out Black's identity.
But something about this mission bothers me. Apart from the high chance of dying, why only find out who he is?
The ICU normally eliminates threats like him. Black has been sabotaging their missions for months—so why now? Why not just take him out?
I can't shake the feeling that I'm a pawn in something bigger.
Every time I think of him, dread wraps around me like a noose. It's like I'm drowning, tied to a rock that gets heavier with every thought.
Once I'm in, there's no turning back. I'll probably die.
So let's make peace with that.
Before I do, I want to make a difference. If I can kill Black, maybe that'll push the ICU toward reform—maybe change the laws so deviants get equal rights.
But I don't understand him. Why work with the government? They're the real enemy.
None of it makes sense.
Once I'm inside, I'll study the system. The structure. I'm not an idiot—I know he's seen my face. With my obnoxiously shiny golden eyes, he could spot me from a mile away.
My natural hair color is raven black, but I haven't seen it in years. I hated it so much that I dyed it until it gave out, then had to shave it off. After multiple failed attempts to treat it, I gave up and switched to wigs.
I was wearing a red one that day… it fell off during the fight. I didn't even realize it until later.
As if my eyes weren't enough trouble—if my wig ever falls off in front of him, I'm done.
Honestly, I hate my body. I hate everything about me. I wish I could rip out my eyes. Contacts don't help. They glow. Like, full-on "pick me" energy. My body is such an attention-seeker.
I shook my head in disappointment.
A few days ago, I sent a message to Dad. I'm hoping he'll reply in time and actually help.
Since I'm a minor and had my identity changed when I was just six, my past as a government lab rat is nearly impossible to trace. I've already applied to be tested. Now, I just have to keep a low profile until the time is right.
Bzzz.
A message.
I checked it—maybe a little too eagerly—and was met with a pleasant surprise.
Something that completely flipped the odds in my favor.