Three years had passed.

Three years of relentless running, hiding, and barely surviving. You and the untainted survivors had been through it all—narrow escapes, nights spent in the cold with empty stomachs, the fleeting relief of finding shelter only to be forced out again. You had met many along the way, some who became family, some who didn't make it. Loss was a constant companion, a cruel reminder that nothing in this world remained untouched by the pink smoke's curse.

There were days when the exhaustion weighed heavier than your will to fight. When the endless cycle of fleeing, losing, and barely holding on made you wonder if it was even worth it. There were nights you lay awake, contemplating the unthinkable—letting them take you, surrendering to fate, or even ending it all just to escape the fear, the pain, the never-ending chase. But every time, the memories of those who sacrificed themselves for you resurfaced. Their faces haunted your thoughts, their final words echoing in your ears. They had given everything to ensure you survived. How could you throw that away? You owed them that much—to live, to keep running, to fight for the future they believed in.

Michael, your leader—the man who had become a father figure to you—gathered everyone in the shelter that evening. His face was grim, his usual commanding presence tinged with hesitation. The moment he spoke, your world tilted.

"Maya has been captured."

The words struck like a dagger to your chest. Maya—your best friend, the one who had fought beside you for years, the one who had held you when you wanted to break—was now in their hands. Your vision blurred, your breathing turned shallow, and before you knew it, a full-blown panic attack had taken over. The walls of the hidden shelter felt too close, too suffocating. Hands grasped your shoulders, grounding you, voices murmuring reassurances, but none of it felt real.

She was gone.

Captured.

Put in one of those damned Untainted Facilities—the places designed to keep people like you under watch, where Tainted ones prowled like predators waiting for their prey.

For days, you were consumed by despair, torn between grief and helplessness. But as the initial shock faded, a new feeling settled in—determination. You couldn't leave her there. You wouldn't.

When you told Michael your plan, his expression darkened. "It's suicide," he said, his voice firm. "We don't even know if she's still—" He stopped himself, but you knew what he meant. Still alive.

"I have to try," you pleaded. "She would do the same for me."

Michael looked at you for a long time, his jaw tightening. The arguments went on for hours, the others trying to convince you to stay. You understood their fear—you shared it. But the thought of abandoning Maya, of letting her suffer alone in that facility, was unbearable.

In the end, Michael relented—but not without precautions.

One of the untainted members of the group, someone skilled in forging identification documents, prepared a fake verification ID for you. It would confirm that you were Tainted, assigning you a type that would ensure you weren't suspected.

"Manipulative," you decided. It was the safest option. Unlike the more aggressive types, Manipulatives weren't constantly watched or restrained. They were trusted to blend in, to weave their lies and psychological traps in silence.

"This doesn't guarantee your safety," Michael warned. "One wrong move, one slip-up, and they'll know."

You nodded. You understood the risks. But there was no turning back.

Maya was waiting.

And you were going to bring her home.

Disguising yourself to match the details on your fake ID had been the easiest part of the plan, but it still felt foreign—unnerving, even. You weren't dressed like a fugitive anymore. Gone were the tattered clothes, the dirt-streaked face, the constant air of someone on the run.

Instead, you stood tall in a sleek black coat, the fabric smooth and heavy, exuding an air of power. Underneath, you wore a crisp formal suit, the kind only the rich and influential could afford. Everything about you screamed wealth, status, and, most importantly, control. You had to look like someone who belonged, someone who didn't have to beg or fight for what they wanted—someone who could take.

The facility loomed ahead, a monstrous structure of cold, unyielding steel. It stretched far beyond what the eye could see, reinforced walls standing tall like an impenetrable fortress. The gate itself was massive, thick iron bars lined with security scanners that buzzed ominously with every person who passed through. Surveillance drones hovered overhead, their mechanical eyes sweeping over every visitor with precise scrutiny.

This was where they kept the Untainted.

Not as prisoners—no, they wouldn't dare call it that—but as potential beloveds. A place where the Tainted could come and claim what they believed was theirs.

Disgust churned in your stomach, but you swallowed it down. You had to focus.

You lingered for just a second too long, eyes locked onto the towering structure, mind racing through possible escape routes, security flaws, anything that could help when the time came to get Maya out.

That second of hesitation was enough.

A guard, clad in dark riot gear, noticed your staring and approached.

"Something wrong?" His voice was firm, skeptical. You could feel his gaze raking over you, assessing whether you were a threat or not.

Your pulse spiked, but you forced yourself to remain composed. You turned, straightening your shoulders, letting a practiced smirk tug at the corner of your lips—the kind of expression worn by those who knew they were untouchable.

"Not at all," you said smoothly, pulling out your ID. "Just admiring the facility. I heard it's the finest in the region."

The guard took the card from your hand, scanning it with a device strapped to his wrist. A soft beep sounded, but he didn't return the ID immediately. Instead, his eyes flickered back to you, suspicion still lingering.

"Manipulative type, huh?" he muttered, almost to himself.

You tilted your head slightly, as if amused. "Does that make you nervous?"

His lips pressed into a thin line. A moment of silence stretched between you, tension coiling in your chest. Then, with a reluctant grunt, he handed the ID back.

"Go on in," he said. "Don't cause trouble."

You flashed a polite, empty smile. First step, done.

Inside, the facility was pristine—eerily so. Polished floors reflected the overhead lights in a way that felt almost sterile. The air smelled faintly of disinfectant, mixed with something else... something unsettling.

Desperation.

The moment you stepped in, you could feel it. The weight of it lingered in the air, seeping into every corner of the grand halls. The Untainted were here, locked away in their designated quarters, waiting for someone to claim them.

Your jaw clenched, but you quickly masked your emotions as you approached the front desk. The receptionist, a woman dressed in a sharp white uniform, looked up with a professional yet hollow smile.

"How may I assist you?" she asked.

You let out a slow breath, adjusting your coat before leaning in slightly, lowering your voice to something softer, something vulnerable.

"I was hoping to... request a beloved," you murmured. You let hesitation creep into your tone, as if this wasn't easy for you to admit. "It's been lonely. Even with all the wealth, the power—it's meaningless without someone to share it with, you know?"

The receptionist's expression softened slightly. Hook, set.

"I understand," she said gently, as if she truly believed she was offering you salvation. "We have a selection process, but I'd be happy to arrange a tour. Perhaps you'll find someone who resonates with you."

You forced a grateful smile. "That would mean the world to me."

As she typed into her system, arranging for your "selection process," you exhaled slowly.

Phase one: complete.

Now, you just had to find Maya.