All the children who had received uniforms were now walking out of the room, heading back into the corridor, being taken somewhere new. Number 2 was called and took his black clothes. Then it was Heng's turn, followed by Number 3. None of them said anything—they just followed the flow of children, moving where everyone else was going.
Guards stood at intervals, watching them closely, blocking any side corridors. There was no chance of slipping away.
"Ahh—!"
A scream tore through the hallway.
Someone had tried to run.
BAM.
A gunshot echoed sharply.
The child dropped instantly. Blood pooled around the body, and a black burn mark stained the wall behind them.
It wasn't a normal bullet. Heng realized with a chill. Something far more advanced—plasma-based, maybe.
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Eventually, they reached a corridor intersection. Ahead of them were two doors, clearly labeled as changing rooms—one for boys, one for girls. Dressed children were already exiting, now wearing the black uniforms they had received earlier. A large red digital timer above the door counted down: 1 minute per group.
They watched as one group of boys exited. When the timer reset, they were ushered inside quickly.
The changing room was stark—just grey walls, two benches, and a hole in the wall labeled "Throw in trash."
A speaker repeated instructions in a monotone voice:
"Throw your old clothes down the hole."
Most children probably couldn't read, so the voice was necessary.
They quickly stripped out of their worn, dirty clothes and tossed them into the hole. The black uniforms were snug but not uncomfortable. Nobody spoke. They were all too nervous, too scared to mess something up.
About fifteen boys were in the room, but it felt like no one even breathed.
They changed quickly and exited when the timer hit zero. Another group was already waiting to enter.
Outside, a guard in black armor pointed as each group exited.
"You go there. You—there. You, over there," he ordered, separating them into groups of ten based on height. Mixed genders weren't allowed in the same group, so boys and girls were divided strictly.
Once Heng's group filled, they were led back through the same corridors they had come from. The path was familiar now, but no one talked about it.
Heng was lucky—Number 2 and Number 3 were still with him.
Eventually, they arrived at a new room: Room 25.
It looked different from their last one. This one was clean, well-kept. Ten neatly arranged beds. Grey walls instead of stark white. The bedsheets were actually straightened. Someone had prepared this space.
They walked in, and the door shut firmly behind them.
Number 2 and Heng exchanged a glance, then quickly took the two beds closest to the door. They saved one beside them for Number 3, who stood there for a moment before slowly snapping out of his daze.
He walked over and sat down quietly.
And just like that—they were in a new room.
But the fear was still with them.