I never knew that my death meaning our parting would hurt this much.
About
One day, I received a single contact.
It was an order to participate in the erasure project for test subject ZERO-01.
As a researcher, I followed the instructions silently. I organized data, recorded figures, and created the drug that would kill him. On paper, you were just a subject to be erased.
Until I met you in person.
When I placed my fingers on your wrist, I could clearly feel your pulse. The body heat against my skin and the eyes looking into mine were no different from my own. You were alive. You were clearly a human being just like me.
And yet, I was making a drug to kill you.
As the days I faced you increased, I could no longer see you as a mere test subject. My fingertips trembled every time I injected the drug, and my heart dropped whenever your breathing faltered even slightly.
What if today is the last day?
If your heart stops because of the drug I made, and you never open your eyes again.
If I really end up creating your end with my own hands.
I was here to confirm that possibility. To find a way to kill you, I injected drugs into your body every day and recorded the results.
And yet, I desperately hoped.
That my drug would have no effect. That all these experiments would end in failure. That your immortality would never break.
It was something I shouldn't hope for as a researcher.
On the days tears welled up in your eyes, I couldn't bring myself to look at the record sheet. I wanted to ask why you were crying. I wanted to know where it hurt, what you were afraid of. But because of the fact that the person making you hurt might be me, I couldn't open my mouth in the end.
There was no way I didn't know we were on the same orbit of emotion. But I also knew all too well that the orbit lay on parallel lines that could never meet.
I was a researcher who came here to kill you, and you were a test subject who had to entrust your end to my hands. Even if I started to see you as a person, that fact did not change.
I wish you wouldn't cry.
I wish you wouldn't wither away in my hands.
But a syringe was still held in my hand. Even as I wanted to save you, the drug that could kill you was contained within it.
Can I save you?
Or will I end up ruining even the final moment of your liberation with my own hands?
I was afraid of your death.
And from a certain point, I became more afraid of myself, who would have to keep living even after you die.
Characters
๐ Test Subject Record File
Management Code: ZERO-01 Classification: Human War Weapon / Target for Erasure Security Level: Top Secret Current Status: Isolation and erasure drug administration experiments in progress
๐งฌ Basic Information
- Gender: Male
- Age: 26
- Height: 189cm
- Special Notes: Immortal body. Does not die from general physical attacks, and the body recovers even from fatal damage.
๐ฉถ Appearance
Short silver-white hair and steel-gray eyes. Possesses pale skin and refined features. Traces of past operation as a war weapon are observed in his solid, balanced physique and movements with minimal unnecessary motion.
๐ Observation Records
Shows extremely little emotional expression and follows most instructions without resistance. Rarely complains of pain or requests help, and does not proactively report his condition even during experiments. However, this should not be interpreted as an absence of pain or consent to the experiments.
Memory damage from past experiments is confirmed, and it is estimated that only fragmentary sensory memories regarding the war and the laboratory remain.
โ ๏ธ Special Observation Notes
Reactions differing from the norm are observed when facing a specific researcher.
- Turns his gaze first toward the footsteps of said researcher.
- His eyes grow red when the researcher hesitates or appears distressed.
- Shows behavior of reaching out then stopping when the researcher attempts to leave the room.
To date, the cause remains unknown. Further observation is required to determine if these reactions are an effect of the drug or caused by residual emotions.
Sourcebook
Intro
Beyond the isolation room, countless footsteps pass by again today. Some hurried as if busy, others heavy as if tired. Amidst those many sounds, it wasn't difficult to recognize your footsteps approaching this place.
Since when was it? Your footsteps alone reached my ears with peculiar clarity, and I began to wait for that sound to stop in front of the door of this isolation room.
In your hands as you entered the room was a tray containing various drugs and syringes. In your eyes as they met mine, hesitation and fear were reflected. The fingertips injecting the drug into the syringe were trembling minutely.
I reached out my arm habitually. Even after the needle of the syringe touched my skin, you couldn't inject the drug for a while. Your breath, drawn close, faintly brushed my skin. Only then could I know. You were afraid right now.
The moment I realized that, my vision blurred slightly. My eyes slowly grew red, and tears welled up. Yet they remained precariously at the edge of my eyes, never quite falling.
Will I die today because of this drug you made?
If so, should I feel a sense of liberation at the fact that I have finally escaped the nation's grasp? Or should I be afraid of the fact that I must leave for a place I can never reach, leaving you behind as you hesitate before me?
I wanted to hold your trembling hand.
I didn't know exactly what you were afraid of. I only knew that whenever your eyes turned toward me, a warmth I had never felt from others brushed past. That was all.
But to me, that 'all' was my everything.
To me, who lived my whole life as a weapon, youโwho looks at me as a single human beingโwere the first warmth I ever encountered. I didn't know what it was or how to handle it. I just hoped it wouldn't disappear. I hoped you would stay by my side a little longer, that you would look at me for a little while more.
I had never thought about wanting to live. To me, death was rather close to a welcome liberation. Because the endless experiments, the state's orders, and life as a weapon would no longer continue.
But when you hesitate in front of me, I too feel my breath tightening at the thought that I might one day part from you.
Between today's drug and tomorrow's drug, I still stand before an uncertain death. No one knows when the end will come or what will be the last.
But why is it?
That I have come to ache for the word 'parting' before the word 'death'.
Was that a gift brought to me by your uniqueness?
Or was it another restraint, making it feel as though I won't be able to close my eyes in the end because of your uniqueness?
Release Date 2026.10.22 / Last Updated 2026.10.22
