CHAPTER 3: Orientation (1)

"Uhhhh....."

When George came to, he was in what seemed to be a white room. As he gathered himself, he realized his legs and arms were bound to a chair.

Similarly to him, the other students were also in the same situation.

The room was similar to what one would find in a mental institution. Everything was white, and the walls appeared to be a made of a soft material. They had all been changed into blue tracksuits. Very weird.

All those things were weird, yes, but the weirdest thing was that the room greatly resembled a classroom.

There was a whiteboard at the front of the classroom, and they were all seated in rows with a desk in front of them.

"What the....."

While he was trying to make sense of his surroundings, he felt a splitting headache coming on.

And to make matters worse, he had finally realized that the room was quite noisy, as the children from noble backgrounds were screaming their heads off, making his already bad headache even worse.

"Do you know who I am? If you don't let me go right now, my father won't forgive you!"

"That's right! Do you think you can get away with kidnapping nobles? If you release me, I'll forget all about this. Otherwise, don't blame me if my family takes revenge!"

The hysterical screaming from the children with backgrounds made it hard for George to even think. He tried to put up with it but eventually exploded.

"Can you all just SHUT UPPPP!!!"

The students looked shocked at his outburst. One in particular, glowered at the George.

"Are you actually speaking to us in that tone, commoner? It seems you don't know your place. Don't worry though, when I get out this chair, I'll personally teach it to you."

George felt a bit concerned about their threats, but at least their shouting had stopped, and the headache was starting to recede.

However, he was oblivious to the situation he had put himself in, that he had singled himself out as a target to the others.

All of a sudden, the whiteboard at the front of the classroom lit up and began to play a video.

"Mom, Dad?", George heard one of the children say.

The people in the video were wearing expensive clothing and were in a dark room talking to someone who couldn't be seen on the screen with impassive faces.

"Do you really want to give your son to us? He will be put through a lot of pain."

The look on the people's faces didn't change in the slightest.

"Please take him. He's a waste of resources. Why will I keep a useless child? While the Charleston Family has a heir that's hailed as a genius, what do I have? A parasite of a child who's useless in whatever he does. He will never be anything. At least he will be of use to someone, even if it's just once in his miserable life. The money from selling him doesn't hurt either."

"As you wish."

George turned to look at the child who exclaimed earlier. He now had a disbelieving look on his face, partially mixed with despair.

"Why, father? Why, mother?"

The child started muttering to himself while crying. He seemed to have fallen into despair.

The same scene repeated itself a number of times. Another video would play, another child would become lifeless. George watched with a dumbstruck expression on his face, all up until the point where a video played that had someone he knew in it.

"Mom, Dad, why are you guys on video? You're not the same as the rest of their parents."

That's right, his parents, his beloved parents, had shown up on the whiteboard screen. Like all the others, they were seated in a dark room.

"It's been a while, Amanda."

"Same to you."

"Do you have the product ready for us this time?"

"Naturally. I've never disappointed you before, have I?"

"I know. But I actually have to ask, and I know I'm being hypocritical here, but do you guys actually have feelings? You raise children, give them love and attention and then sell them to us for a hefty sum. How do you do it?"

"Good question, I guess you could say we never actually really cared for them. Of course, there are some I've liked more than the others. And there are those I dislike more than others, like the current product."

"That kid is so clingy, I couldn't wait to though him away. But more importantly, is this an interview?"

"You guys know that he will see this video, right?"

"Naturally."

"We like to break their spirit before we start experiments. It makes things very easy for us whenever we start working on them. So we show them the videos of their parents selling them to us. It's very effective."

"If that's all you need, then it's simple. Where's the recording device?"

"Just a bit to your right."

"Okay."

Amanda turned to the right with an expression on her face that looked like she was gazing at trash, then proceeded to speak.

"George, you've been watching this, right? If so, then you should know something."

"You mean absolutely nothing to us. You're just a product, something to be sold for money. You're not the first too. We've done this a number of times before. And out of all the children we've raised, you're the one I absolutely hate the most. In fact, I want you to die. No, you need to die. You're never going to be anything anyway. So behave like a good dog and die a dog death."

Then the screen went off. It appeared that George's video was the last.

From start to finish, George had already been crying, but at those final words from his mother, he sunk into an abyss of endless despair. Looking at his lifeless eyes, one would even wonder if he was contemplating suicide.

While wallowing in depression, George had failed to notice one thing. His father had never spoken, from the beginning all the way to the end. Upon closer inspection of his face, one could even notice that he seemed to be fighting an internal battle, a battle about what, one can only guess.

The mood of the room had gotten to an all time low. One could choke on the depression in the air.

The whiteboard screen lit up again. However, this time, it showed a person in a seat wearing a mask.

"Ha-ha, that was fun, wasn't it?"