𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐲 𝐯𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐬 (𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡) || KGRP application

TW: slight gore and bugs!

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Black and white music wrapped around me, its delicate notes swirling like dark tendrils in a suffocating fog. The haunting melody, once a balm for my soul, twisted into a cacophony of despair, resonating with the insatiable itch that clawed beneath my skin. I could no longer bear to be enveloped in such beauty. It felt like a cruel jest played by the universe. With my heart pounding like a funeral drum, I fled the recital, seeking solace in the shadowed confines of the dressing room.

There, in the dim light, the mirror became my only companion—a reflection of torment, a ghostly visage that mocked my suffering. I leaned closer, a shiver of dread running down my spine as I scrutinized the skin that felt so alien. It burned, a throbbing reminder of the unseen invasion lurking beneath. I pressed my fingers to the source of the madness, convinced that beneath the surface lurked writhing worms or ravenous cockroaches, feasting on my very essence.

Each pinch sent jolts of agony through me, but pain was a welcome companion in this nightmare. I was a marionette of suffering, dancing to the rhythm of my own self-destruction.

“They’re in there..”

I thought, an obsessive certainty spiraling into my mind. The itch transformed into a sinister whisper, urging me to dig deeper, to tear apart the flesh that betrayed me.

“You can’t hide from me."

I hissed at the mirror, my voice a raw rasp, tinged with desperation.

The reflection twisted into a grotesque parody, my face a mask of anguish and madness. I clawed at my skin, nails biting into flesh like a ravenous beast, a futile attempt to unearth the hidden infestation.

“Get out!”

I screamed at my own reflection, but my words morphed into a wretched sob, swallowed by the darkness that surrounded me.

Tears streamed down my cheeks, mingling with the crimson trails left by my desperate hands.

“They must be feasting."

I thought, a grim certainty settling in my bones. My body had become a grotesque landscape, each pockmarked scar a testament to my futile rebellion. I pressed harder, feeling the skin break, the blood flowing like a morbid river—a release that brought only fleeting relief before the relentless itch returned, more voracious than before.

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His head throbbed violently, each pulse sending waves of discomfort through his skull. No matter how hard Alek tried to focus on a distant point, his vision blurred, his eyes rolling unbidden to the far side of the room. Damn, what an unpleasant sensation.

Who had done this to him this time? It had to be those bastards from corner five. He needed to tell—wait, was he tied up? He strained forward, leaning into the restraints that held him captive.

“Shit… are they going to torture me?” he murmured, his words barely cutting through the relentless ringing in his ears.

Just then, a screen flickered to life, and as he struggled against his bonds, the chair wobbled precariously before tipping over, slamming him hard against the cold, probably filthy floor. His cheek connected with a brutal thud, making him bite the inside of his mouth.

“Ghk—”

Alek grimaced, pain flaring through him as he glared at the source of the blinding light.

“Welcome to Teppeki Boarding School for Troubled Youth, dear student!” A mascot smiled. The small dragon ranted on and on about how wonderful and prestigious this opportunity was.

A school for troubled teens?! Shit! He was screwed. He would have preferred a beating. Judging by the soreness in his muscles, he likely had received one before all this. Thank God he couldn’t . But the worst part was always the recovery—the agonizing process where he would be all too aware of his condition.

“I know you can’t move, so please look into the camera in the corner of the room for your facial ID!” It smiled.

“A prestigious and wonderful opportunity, my ass... Who is behind this?! I bet it was those fuckers! This is the last time I talk to a damn doctor... He swore it was supposed to be confidential... son of a bitch.”

His complaints drowned out the documentary playing in the background. Alek glanced around the room again, relieved to find he could move his neck—progress, at least. Oh, look, a camera!

“I can’t be here." he started talking to it. "I have important things to do, a business to run, you know—Ah! Shit!”

C L I C K !

He squinted in shock when he felt something crawl in his ear. Was it a bug?! Please, not a bug. He didn’t want any more bugs. Anything but bugs. Now it was itching in his ear... and his arm... and his chest. Shit.

A tear slipped down his cheek as he writhed in his restraints, desperately trying to roll on the floor to ease the maddening itch, but it was useless, tightly bound as he was.

The TV turned off, and the restraints loosened. The room dimmed as a door opened up horizontally through a seemingly, empty and closed off wall. In walked a beautiful, stoic woman dressed in a kimono. Her blonde wavy hair reached the floor. People like her were rare beauty in this day in age. Her zori-sandals clicked loudly on the hard marble floor. “Get up.” She barked.

When he opened his eyes again, he found a girl standing before him, dressed in traditional attire, her blonde hair a stark contrast to the room's dreariness.

“Beautiful hair! You’re not Japanese, are you? You’re a half like me?”

He quickly fell silent at her command to stand, straining against the bonds that held him trying to tell her he couldn't move, but to his surprise, he found he could now.

Seizing the moment, the redhead stood and began scratching at his body as if in the throes of an allergic reaction. He slapped the ear where he’d felt something, tilting his head as if inviting whatever it was to emerge.

“Out, out, out! No, no, no! Get out!”

When he touched the other ear, he realized that the sensation hadn’t come from a bug. Maybe it was, and he had that device around his ear since he woke up in that chair. Whatever it was, Alek decided to follow the woman to the office, taking advantage of the moment to rip off some of the bandages and adhesive strips on his face, crumpling them in his hand before tossing them to the floor.

The woman lead you into the door she came out of, it was truly a sight. It was a dark office, lightened by an oil lamp on her low, wooden desk. The floor was tatami and the room overall looked very traditional. Apart from the window view. The windows went from floor to ceiling, showcasing how high up you were in some skyscraper. The night city was as bright as a firework, but no cars, no people, and no sounds were able to be seen or heard.

“Wow, how high up are we right now? I bet I can see my house from here... oh right, I don’t have one anymore... Is that the moon? Is it already night?! Damn, they must be looking for me! I have to get to work...”

A cup of tea was presented to him. He was thirsty, not going to deny it, so he knelt down and took a sip, scalding his mouth. He should have blown on it first.

"Agh—I burned myself! Well, good! Better this way; fuck them! Fuck them!” He downed the rest of the tea in a hasty, probably painful gulp. “They hate being burned. Take that, you sons of bitches! Enjoy!”

It was unclear who the boy was addressing or what he was referring to, but he laughed maniacally, the sound echoing in the sterile room.

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I keep clawing at my arms, but it’s never enough.

I feel them crawling under my skin.

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“Tell me your name. And your Ultimate talent.” She ordered.

“Name and talent... Didn’t the guy in the white coat provide you with all that info? Fine, I’ll say it: I’m Aleksander Iyana, and my talent... I don’t have any! I had no idea such a prestigious school would accept a mediocre, talentless piece of shit like me... you should let me go.”

She squinted at you. She would that. “Let’s get right into it, shall we? What did you do to become a convicted Ultimate student?” She asked, monotonously as she sipped her tea.

He crossed his arms defiantly, making a gesture as if to stand before collapsing back into his seat, chastened by the girl’s accusation.

“What? Me? A convict? You’ve got the wrong guy; I don’t do anything illegal, you know? The shisha place is totally legal! And I don’t run it; my buddy does... W-why are you asking me when you probably already know the answers anyway?”

Alek exhaled a frustrated sigh, slamming the cup down on the table, the sound reverberating in the stillness.

Once again she stared at you with wide eyes. She shook her head. “You foolish children.” The woman looked you up and down, before clearing her throat. “Whatever. Actions have consequences, I figure you’ll learn that the hard way. Relax yourself, trust me with your answers.” You immediately complied. “What drives you more, loyalty to your group or individual freedom?”

His body felt heavy, as if, despite his head screaming for him to run, his limbs were reluctant to move.

“Uh... freedom, of course. Who wouldn’t prefer that? Though I suppose loyalty has its charms. I don’t know. Let’s say being loyal to a group until they start messing with your individual freedom.”

She nodded, as if she was writing this down in her head. “How do you define strength? Don’t let up on me now, child.” She scoffed, eagerly staring you down.

“Strength is... like throwing a punch, right? A kick, a charge... when you lift weights at the gym and stuff. I guess.”

“Interesting.” She cracked a smile. “In a divided world." She started, turning her head gently to look out the window. “Do you believe in building alliances, staying neutral, or asserting dominance? How would you handle betrayal from that group.”

“A divided world that...”

He glanced out the window, searching for familiar neighborhoods or areas, but it was too far to discern.

“Alliances are everything, of course; you can’t survive on your own. Yet sometimes, asserting dominance only brings enemies... leading to betrayals. I don’t know; I’ve always been the betrayer, except for that one time, but I didn’t stick around to see how they handled it.”

She pulled her head back over again and looked at you slowly with an eyebrow raised. “Alright.” She reaches into her desk, and pulls out a paper. There are 4 questions. “No need for a pen. Just look at your answer.”

“Just look at the answer... got it.”

He stared at the paper, wondering how it would know if he was looking at one answer or another. How strange. And even stranger, why was he obeying orders!?

“What happens if I look at them because I’m reading? How will the paper know?”

He abruptly punched himself in the forearm before falling silent and reading the questions.

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1. How do you respond when confronted with strict rules?

A. Follow them precisely

B. Find ways to work around them

C. Challenge them outright

D. Quietly observe and adapt to the situation

He looks at A

2. What motivates you more: loyalty to your group or personal freedom?

A. Loyalty to the group

B. Personal freedom

C. A balance between the two

D. Power and control over either

He looks at C

3. In conflict, do you prefer to:

A. Stand your ground with force

B. Manipulate the situation to your advantage

C. Work behind the scenes, waiting for the right moment

D. Maintain order, even if it means compromise

He looks at C

4. What do you value most in others?

A. Discipline

B. Cunning

C. Silence and restraint

D. Strength and resilience

He looks at C

She snatches the paper, then looked behind you at something that lit up her eyes in an electronic light from a screen. “No, that can’t be right..” She muttered, looking back at you. The woman stood up and ushered you back into the room, on her final push, the door closed off again.

After being shoved back into the room, all Alek could think was that maybe she’d realized he had lied on the answers. Faking a gaze was the easiest thing to do. He thought that if he just focused on the obviously good answers, they’d let him go.

“Fuck this shit hole. And fuck those goddamn doctors. I’d almost prefer a beating; I’d already be back at the shop, smoking hookah..”

That is the last thing you recall happening.

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