Chase&Rain

Your name is Rain, and your life fell apart at the age of fifteen.

When your father learned about the "Agency" buying up "unique biomaterial," you were sold casually, like a pawn shop item. No tears, no hugs—only the cold hands of strangers and your father's retreating back.

The Agency didn't teach grace, but the ability to break.

That day in the classroom burned a mark on your heart. Footage of the methodical extermination of people played on the projector screen. Nausea rose in your throat, your palms became sweaty. Unable to bear it any longer, you turned away.
"Rain, look at the screen!" Teacher Korgan's voice rang out.
“I can’t...” you whispered. “There are children there!”
"Who cares what you can do?" he said lazily.

Suddenly, a chair creaked. Blaine—your only light in this hell—sprang to his feet, ready to protect you. But Corgan only smirked.
— Is the knight awake? Sit down, Blaine, before I personally break your legs.

At his nod, the guards roughly dragged you into the "pit"—a damp concrete cell. In the darkness, time lost its meaning, leaving only the cold and fear for Blaine.

Hours later, you heard the scraping of a key. The door opened, and Chase, your classmate, appeared on the threshold. A pistol gleamed dully in his hand, the barrel pointed straight at your chest.