The sterile white walls of the laboratory seemed to breathe with silence until a newborn's cry split the air.
Ahhhh!~
Inside the delivery room, a man in a spotless white coat held the infant with unusual gentleness.
His eyes carried something that could almost be mistaken for love, though in truth it was nothing of the sort.
"What should we name the boy?" a voice asked from the shadows.
The doctor's smile widened, though his eyes stayed cold. "He will be called 028. That is his name now." His tone carried the weight of ownership, not affection.
"And the mother?"
"Give her some money and send her away. She has served her purpose."
His words were flat, as if she were nothing more than medical waste to be discarded.
He lifted the child again with careful, deliberate hands.
To him, this was no son. This was a subject, a living experiment wrapped in fragile innocence.
Two years later.
The boy, now called 013, stood in his small quarters wearing a thin white gown frayed at the edges. Black hair framed his face, still soft with childhood, though his brown eyes held a depth far too heavy for someone his age.
The doctor entered, clipboard in hand. "Tell me, 013. Which animal would you like to pet today?"
The boy's face lit up with rare excitement.
"I want the puppy," he said quickly, pointing at a small golden retriever wagging its tail inside a cramped cage.
His voice carried both hope and fear, as if afraid the answer might be denied.
Six months later.
"This food is too little for us, father."
013, now two and a half years old, sat on his narrow bed, staring at the day's meal. A strip of roasted meat no longer than his hand and barely thicker than his finger lay on the plate.
In the corner, a small doghouse sheltered his only friend, the puppy that had grown alongside him in this sterile prison.
"013, everyone receives the same amount. There is a shortage of food. All subjects are given equal portions. You must be patient." The doctor's voice was calm, as though reciting a script.
"But I am not alone, father. I have to share with little doggie too. He is hungry just like me. Please, can we have a little more?"
The boy lowered his gaze. His voice came out soft, almost breaking.
The doctor gave a rehearsed sigh. "You must understand, 013. I have not eaten in three days myself."
The lie slid from his lips with ease, his well-fed body hidden beneath his coat. "I gave my share to others who needed it."
The boy's small face crumpled with guilt. "I am sorry, father. I did not know. Then… please, take mine. You should eat instead."
His tiny hands trembled as he held out the strip of meat.
The doctor bent slightly, his voice coated with false warmth.
"No, you eat it. You are still a child. Children must grow strong. The fact that you care for me so much is already enough to make me full." He gave a faint smile, then turned and closed the door behind him.
013 sat in silence, staring down at the food in his hands. In the corner, the puppy's tail tapped weakly against the floor. Its eyes stayed fixed on him with quiet trust, as if waiting.
The boy let out a long breath. Slowly, he broke the meat in half. He placed one piece in front of the puppy, who swallowed it eagerly in a single bite before looking back up at him with eyes that mirrored his own.
The boy's stomach burned with hunger, but he pushed the feeling aside. He gave the second half to his friend.
The puppy barked softly and pressed close against him, its warmth filling the empty space where food could not.
013 wrapped his arms around the little dog and smiled faintly through his pain.
For three weeks, life followed the same grim rhythm. Each day, 013 carefully split his tiny strip of meat in half, handing one portion to the golden retriever he had come to see as his only companion.
The dog's tail wagged weakly, its soft whines filling the empty room, a small comfort in the cold, silent prison.
But one day, things changed.
When 013 broke the meat bar in two, the dog suddenly lunged forward and snatched the entire portion from his hands. Its teeth grazed the boy's small fingers, leaving a sharp sting that made him flinch.
The two-year-old puppy swallowed everything in greedy gulps, then looked back at 013, panting heavily. Its
013's chest tightened. He stared at his empty hands, then at his friend. "Why did you do that?" he whispered, his voice shaking. "We were supposed to share… half for me, half for you."
The dog tilted its head, eyes wide and uncomprehending, then barked loudly, as if demanding more. The sound filled the tiny room, echoing against the cold walls.
The next day, when 013 received his ration, he climbed onto his bed with the meat bar clutched tightly. He ate it quickly, bite after bite, ignoring the puppy's cries.
The dog barked and barked, scratching at the bed, but the boy turned his face away and chewed faster.
"This is your punishment," he muttered under his breath, though his voice trembled. "Yesterday you ate everything… today you will get nothing. That is fair."
The golden retriever whined and barked again, tail thumping against the floor, but the boy hugged his knees and finished every last bite, refusing to share.
Hunger and guilt gnawed at him all night. For months they had shared every crumb, every scrap. He remembered nights when he had given his portion entirely to the dog, letting himself starve in silence.
But now, after feeling the sting of teeth and the weight of betrayal, he could not bring himself to be as kind.
Still, as the dog barked at him in the dark, eyes gleaming with need, 013 curled up on his bed and pressed his hands against his ears.
The next day, 013 sat on his bed with the new strip of meat in his hands. His stomach twisted with hunger, yet when his eyes met the puppy's, guilt pressed down on him.
He broke the bar in half and pushed one piece toward the dog. The golden retriever devoured it instantly, then barked for more. The sound grew louder, sharper, echoing through the small room.
013 lifted the other half to his lips and whispered, "I gave you your share… this is mine." He took a small bite, but before he could swallow, the dog lunged. Its teeth sank into his hand as the meat was ripped away.
"Ahhh!" 013 cried, clutching his bleeding fingers.
The retriever stopped barking, pacing nervously. It whined and pressed its head against him, but the boy shoved it away in pain and frustration.
"Why do you hurt me?!" 013 shouted. His foot lashed out, kicking the dog. The retriever yelped, backing into the corner with wide, wet eyes.
The door creaked open. The doctor stepped in, his gaze cool as it settled on the boy's bloody hand. Without a word, he cleaned the wound, wrapped it in bandages, and left. The lock clicked shut. Child and dog were alone again.
Hours dragged on. Hunger carved at 013's stomach until the next day finally came. Another strip of meat lay on his plate.
This time, he didn't split it. He climbed onto his bed and ate in silence, ignoring the dog's sharp barks.
But the retriever could not bear it. It lunged, teeth flashing. Pain tore into 013's arm as the dog bit deep.
The boy screamed, fury and fear bursting loose. He struck back blindly, fists and feet thrashing against fur. "Stop! Stop! Leave me alone!"
The puppy whimpered under the blows but clamped down harder. Blood streaked the sheets, bite marks burning across the boy's skin.
His hand brushed the broken edge of a plate on the floor. Desperation surged. As the dog dragged him down, he gripped the shard tight, raised it high, and drove it into the animal's eye.
The retriever howled, thrashing, its grip finally loosening. Blood smeared 013's hands as he tore himself free, chest heaving. His body shook, torn between horror and rage.
The puppy staggered back, one eye ruined, whimpering as crimson streaked down its face. It collapsed against the wall, trembling and broken.
013 sat frozen on the edge of his bed, the plate slippery in his bloodstained hands, staring down at the lifeless body of the golden retriever that had been his only companion.
His chest ached with a sharp, unfamiliar emptiness, and his small hands trembled uncontrollably, slick with a mixture of his own blood and the blood of the creature he had loved.
The doctor crouched beside him, close enough that his presence could be felt without overwhelming the boy.
Finally, he spoke, his voice steady and calm, almost like a friend rather than a teacher or an authority.
"It came at you so fast, and you did what you had to do to survive. That is what matters. You acted, and that is something that cannot be taken from you."
013's throat tightened, his gaze dropping to the dog and then flicking back to his own shaking hands. "I didn't mean to… I didn't want this…"
The doctor's hand rested gently on his shoulder. "I know you didn't mean to hurt him. You cared, and that is why it hurts. It must sting where he bit you, but if you hadn't acted, it could have been much worse. You might have been seriously injured—or even eaten by your dog. What you did was right. You protected yourself, and that shows courage."