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Chapter 2
I didn’t know what kind of drug it was, but it was obviously incredibly potent.
Most of the test subjects who were injected with it thrashed around in pain, tumbling violently inside their glass cases.
There were only three possible reactions:
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Vomit and have diarrhea, then die.
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Vomit and have diarrhea, and then die.
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Die before showing any reaction.
There was no outcome where someone endured it or survived.
Only death, death, and more death. Nothing but death.
‘…This is insane.’
Even the most difficult games wouldn’t be this cruel.
No—at least games aren’t real. But this? This was my reality.
“Hoo, I thought the ones from this season might hold out a bit longer…”
Mouse No. 23, who had taken my place as the latest sacrifice, had just been injected with a red substance. Soon after, it started convulsing.
John looked at No. 23 with a concerned expression.
Right, even though they’re conducting these horrible experiments, he’s still human…
“If we don’t get results, our funding might be cut.”
You lunatic! Humans should go extinct! Heartless monsters with no conscience!
I rubbed my belly, feeling my faith in humanity hit rock bottom.
‘Ugh, getting mad made me hungry.’
Not knowing when death might strike, I found myself constantly hungry rather than losing my appetite.
Compared to the other mice, it felt like I ate twice as much. I was pretty sure I was still eating like I did when I was human—even though I was now a mouse.
Thankfully, since good results required test subjects to be in top condition, they always provided food.
But if I ate too well, my act might be exposed, so I secretly nibbled, sneaking bites one by one.
Sniff—the fruit is delicious.
Trapped in this tiny glass case, it really did feel like I’d become a real mouse.
Snapping out of it, I shook my head roughly.
Being locked up all day with no communication sometimes messed with my mind.
‘I’m a person. A human being.’
I forced myself to chew the fruit loudly, eyes wide open, to fight off the strange thoughts creeping in.
“Oh? You’re eating well, huh?”
Ack!
John brought his big face close to the glass.
I was so startled I dropped the fruit. Then I quickly flopped over, pretending to collapse.
“Eh? Guess not, then.”
Fortunately, my acting was very effective on John.
Unlike the other researchers, John had only recently joined and was still kind of clueless, so it was easy to fool him.
The real problem was…
“John, are you slacking off again?”
“No, Director! I was just observing No. 18. It’s been acting strange lately!”
Liar! I saw you napping just a minute ago! Wipe that drool before you start making excuses!
“That the weak one you misdiagnosed before?”
“Yes, that’s the one, sir!”
The real issue was the lab director.
From the researchers’ conversations, I’d gathered that the director had been here since the early stages of this experiment—at least ten years of experience.
He’d seen every kind of beastkin there was.
That, of course, included intelligent ones.
Meaning my half-baked acting could be exposed at any moment.
“Are rat beastkin usually this weak?”
At John’s question, the director furrowed his brow.
“Well, I’m not sure. I’ve never dealt with a rat beastkin before, even among rodents.”
Oh? This might actually work in my favor!
Hope flickered.
“I’ve seen corpses and taxidermy, but this is my first time seeing a live one.”
…Which also made it more terrifying.
I held my breath and turned my back as much as possible to the director.
“Huh? Why’s that? There are rats everywhere.”
“Ordinary rats, yes. But rodent-type beastkin are practically extinct now. Unlike regular rats, they have extremely low fertility rates. That’s why I’ve never seen a living one.”
Damn. These people have no concept of endangered species protection.
“Anyway, do you know how much money I spent acquiring these things? And yet the results are this poor…”
Tsk. The director clicked his tongue and scanned the remaining mice with an unsatisfied gaze.
“How many do we have left?”
“Fourteen.”
“Phew, a lot have died.”
After a moment of thought, the director said,
“Starting tomorrow, inject two mice per day with Substance No. 1.”
“Substance No. 1? Even a lion couldn’t survive that!”
A lion? Are you seriously going to inject something that killed a lion into mice that couldn’t even match a lion’s claw?
“Exactly. If we get lucky and see unexpected results, great. But even if not, we can argue that our failure is due to needing better materials, not incompetence. That could help us pull more funding. Don’t you agree?”
“Yes, of course! Brilliant as always, sir!”
These psychos! Money-obsessed lunatics!
I had planned to take my time and escape with a well-thought-out strategy, but that plan had to change.
At this rate, I’d die before any of that could happen.
Just yesterday, a mouse had died instantly from Substance No. 3.
And now they want to use No. 1? That’s basically a death sentence!
‘Tomorrow. I have to do it tomorrow.’
If I kept delaying, some unexpected variable might pop up again. Tomorrow would be my escape day.
That night, I curled up with my fluffy tail, trembling, and barely managed to fall asleep.
* * *
The day of reckoning had come.
I gritted my teeth as I watched the researchers begin to enter, one by one.
The fear that they might do tests during the night kept me from sleeping properly.
Though I managed a short nap, I dreamed that I was picked first and died before even getting the chance to try escaping.
‘It’s fine. Dreams are always the opposite, right?’
I didn’t usually believe in superstition, but today, I desperately wanted to.
“John, be careful with that!”
“Yes, sir!”
John carefully brought something in, cradling it as if it were highly dangerous.
He was even wearing a hazmat suit—guess it was toxic to humans too.
The director put on multiple layers of latex gloves and examined the test subjects.
I slumped down as much as possible to avoid drawing attention.
“No. 32 looks good.”
My heart nearly leapt out of my mouth. No. 32 was right next to me.
Another researcher took out the rather large No. 32 mouse, and the director cautiously pulled out what I assumed was Substance No. 1.
Smoke rose from the substance as it was drawn into a syringe, and without hesitation, the director injected it into No. 32’s scruff.
The mouse, which had been squirming, suddenly went still, its tongue lolling out.
Instant death.
“As expected.”
The director placed No. 32’s lifeless body on the cart it had been brought in on, showing no hesitation.
“No. 18? You look fine today too.”
Crap.
The scene had shocked me so much I’d forgotten to keep up my act.
Seeing me standing normally, the director spotted me.
But hey, just like in the dream, it was the opposite—I wasn’t picked first, but second!
I desperately tried to run, but in a tiny glass case, that was meaningless. I was easily caught by the researcher’s hand.
“Chii! Chik!”
‘Let go of me! I’m human!’
I fought back as hard as I could, but there was no way a mouse could overcome a human’s strength.
I used every ounce of energy I had from eating all that fruit to resist, but the researcher’s hand didn’t budge.
“Come on now.”
Before I knew it, the director had a new syringe filled with Substance No. 1 and reached out.
A sharp sting hit the back of my neck.
My vision wavered.
The metallic scent of blood passed by my nose. With death looming, the truth about the drug finally hit me.
‘…Blood.’
Blood. It was Wishid’s blood.
The core of this experiment was none other than injecting test subjects with Wishid’s blood.
Wishid was a black mamba—infamous for being the most venomous of all—and even though he was a hybrid, his toxicity was nearly pureblood-level.
The lower the number, the less diluted the blood was.
Wishid’s blood was poison itself. In other words, Substance No. 1 was practically undiluted venom.
‘No wonder… not even a lion could survive it…’
