Someone was talking.
There were many sounds. Rushed. Chaotic. Like thousands of voices layered on top of one another.
Too noisy!
One of humanity's most significant flaws? The inability to stay silent. Silence is crucial for the brain to observe, analyze, and solve problems—especially in unexpected situations.
For example, when space and time were suddenly altered.
This noise, and the faint light filtering through her eyelids…
Was this a severe hallucination, or was it a sophisticated kidnapping plot?
Her blue eyes fluttered open. They were clear and deep, like a tranquil lake.
Only those with undisciplined minds would let emotions disrupt the tranquility of their thoughts.
And it seemed she was currently submerged in a crowd of ignorant people.
"Where is this?! Who are you people?!"
They were panicked.
"What the hell?!! Which bastard dragged me out of bed?!"
They were screaming.
"Terrorists! We've been kidnapped by terrorists!"
They couldn't even shut up long enough to think.
"Daddy… Mommy… Nanny!!"
But that at least confirmed one thing—"Seraphine Saint Vault" was not the target of this mass kidnapping.
Seraphine stood still as countless voices clashed in her ears—each a different frequency, a different language. They reverberated through the air, filling her eardrums with a relentless buzz, pressing down like an unbearable weight.
She looked up, straining to see through the shifting sea of heads, her gaze locked onto a small opening above, even as bodies shoved her from every direction.
White. Pure white. All that could be seen overhead was white.
Seraphine's gaze dropped. A flash of light pink fabric caught her eye—a small hand, trembling, raised high above the chaos.
Finger size, mole, fingernail shape, skin texture…
Nothing had changed.
So, she was still herself. But the bedroom had vanished. The comfortable bed had vanished. The most advanced security system in the world and the bodyguards who shadowed her every move—vanished.
She was alone.
Exposed.
Vulnerable.
This entire space, she didn't know how wide, how high, or how many people it contained. Seraphine stood silently contemplating, letting her body lean forward due to the pushing force from behind.
With her eyes closed and hand pressed against her chest, she let the silence fill her mind.
"Help me!!!" It was the sound of someone next to her screaming into her ear.
"Where's the exit? Do you know where the exit is?!" Someone else patted her shoulder from behind.
These people—Seraphine took a deep breath, not turning her head, her chest rising and falling beneath her nightgown—these people, who were incapable of remaining calm, hoped that others could calmly listen to their desires!
One minute of silence had passed, but the sounds and the rude touches persisted, smoldering like a never-ending nightmare.
Not a hallucination! Seraphine's eyes snapped open, feeling a chill run down her spine. She turned and grabbed the middle-aged woman next to her, her mouth close to the woman's ear.
"Excuse me, do you remember what happened before we ended here?"
Suddenly confronted with the young woman's beautiful face, the middle-aged woman froze. Then she frantically blurted out a string of Italian, which Seraphine immediately repeated in the same language.
"Do you know this place? When did you appear here?"
"Have you met any acquaintances?"
"Are you hurt anywhere? Or do you feel unwell anywhere?"
"Do you have a phone? A watch?"
Seraphine felt a tremor permeate her soul and body. Her rational soul seemed to float above, coldly watching as her emotional body struggled to question those around her—mocking her loss of composure.
Absurd!
How had it come to this? Just moments ago, people were walking the streets, working, sleeping… and now—this. Everyone in different places on this planet—didn't understand why they had appeared here.
In the blink of an eye.
No phones. No accessories. No jewelry. It was as if they had been stripped of everything before being dumped here.
Was this—something humanity could do?
Or rather, with the technological level of the 21st century, was there any organization capable of doing this?
Organization X? No! Research Institute Y? Even less likely! Although she didn't have a research category on Space-Time Technology, she had been researching super-material and energy technology for over 3 years.
Humanity, even if it developed for another 500 years, would not be able to instantly transport a large number of living beings to another space and time.
The crowd was becoming increasingly crowded, as if more people were constantly being stuffed into this space. Seraphine tried to suppress the dizzying, nauseating feeling as the oxygen level decreased. The stench of sweat, bodily odors, and breath filled the air, assaulting her nose. Her ears were ringing from the screams, cries, and curses. Even her cerebrum, which was constantly processing at high speed, gradually couldn't maintain her calm facial muscles. She wished she had a bomb filled with anesthetic, enough to knock out every screaming homo sapien in this hellhole.
They were packed like sardines—six people crammed into one square meter.
Thump!
A sharp bump made her slight frame stagger. Seraphine relaxed her body, trying to move with the flow of people.
Then another shove came, stronger.
Thump! Thump!
"Stop pushing!" Someone shouted.
The hollow behind her right knee was hit by a strong force, and her upper body was simultaneously pushed forward.
Seraphine immediately reached out and tightly grabbed the back of the man's shirt in front of her to maintain her balance. That gesture seemed to ignite a nameless fear in him unknowingly. A hairy, bare arm quickly reached back and pushed hard. The unusually soft sensation from the palm made the man instinctively turn around.
He saw a middle-aged woman staring at him in panicked bewilderment, saw her shout something in a language he didn't understand, saw her slightly hunch over, staggering with uneven steps as if walking in a children's ball pit, with one hand reaching down as if to grab something. In his sight, the man could only see a handful of age spots grasping a corner of light pink fabric. But the crowd continued to surge forward, the pushing force causing the woman to move forward, releasing the corner of the fabric she was holding.
Seraphine went down. Dizziness slammed into her. She wanted to curl up, but it was too late—everything was happening too fast. She only had time to put her hands over her head before—Thump! A boot slammed down on her arm—pain seared through her nerves. Another hit—her thigh. Then—Crack! A rib broke under the weight of the trampling crowd. People flowed over her, no one stopping. Nor was anyone capable of helping her. Footsteps continued to crush her body as if she were just a piece of lifeless sponge.
Another stomp came from an overweight man.
Crack!
The sharp sound of a rib breaking echoed.
She had once hesitated about surgically removing her ability to feel pain. Did she regret it now?
Her blue eyes closed tightly, her lips pressed together, locking the metallic taste of blood in her mouth.
No regrets! She wasn't the one wielding the knife. Too dangerous!
Her delicate body was like a discarded rag in a crowded alley—trampled, kicked, and dragged away from its original spot.
Ten seconds. An eternity. Seraphine knew—she was about to die.
She couldn't breathe.
Two ribs—maybe the third and fourth—shattered. Her left thigh snapped like a twig. There were many places from head to toe that were injured by the pressure of gravity. But the problem was with her lungs. Her lungs were probably filled with fluid and bleeding, or they had been crushed flat. Because there had been a forceful kick just now...
Seraphine tried her best but couldn't open her eyes. She knew she was suffocating.
Anyone. Please…
She needed CPR. She needed to survive—just a little longer. There were still so many research topics she hadn't finished.
She hadn't even figured out what was happening yet…
The strength that came from unwillingness and the desire to survive made her powerless hands as if they had been given a dose of "spinach," suddenly reach up, flailing about in hopes of grabbing onto something to hold on to amidst this turbulent sea of people.
Tears kept streaming down her swollen cheeks unconsciously. In extreme pain, Seraphine felt her hands being stepped on, blocked, and kicked away. They passively snaked around, brushing against different fabrics, brushing against the skin from smooth to rough, until they caught a firm calf.
With gritted teeth, she tightened her grip, using every ounce of strength left, refusing to release her hold. Even though that firm leg swung up, trying to kick away the "vine" clinging to it. The force was so strong that her elbow felt like it was shattering. One kick after another, the soft feeling still clung tightly around the ankle, mixed with the surrounding shouts and shoving, causing the leg's owner to frown in annoyance. He looked down at the crowded heads, too many, packed without a gap. With a swift movement, he reached down with one hand to grab what was wrapped around his leg. The sensation transmitted back, softer than glutinous rice flour, made the muscular arm immediately retract. People from behind and both sides pushed forward, further escalating his impatience.
Muscles slightly tensing, the man lifted one "free" leg and kicked away the people around him. The kick was so fast and powerful that the surrounding crowd was forced to disperse, creating a small space, with people falling on over each other in a domino effect. Amidst everyone's curses and screams, he leisurely shook his neck, looking down from above at the "parasite" clinging to his smooth trousers.
"Let go." A low, indifferent voice sounded.
The petite form at the man's feet didn't move, hair disheveled, arms twisted strangely, only able to silently open her mouth powerlessly. He lightly bit the inside of his cheek, counting from one to three in his head, then looked down again at the still body below, wondering if she was deaf... or dead.
The truth wasn't much different from what was speculated. Seraphine's ears had long been ringing, only able to hear hissing and buzzing sounds. But the air suddenly cleared, and the feeling that her body was no longer being subjected to external forces made her pain-numbed brain suddenly clear.
She knew someone was helping her.
But was it too late? Oxygen couldn't circulate in a crushed lung.
The hands that were powerlessly clinging to someone's trousers seemed to have also become stiff, losing all sensation. Seraphine slightly opened her swollen eyes, looking through the hair covering her face at the people falling backward, watching them scramble to get up, and then watching them fall again because the crowd behind kept pushing forward.
Suddenly, a shadow covered her overhead. The image of the crowd being blocked appeared, and a shoe suddenly appeared in Seraphine's sight.
Shiny leather shoes, without a speck of dirt.
Seraphine forced her heavy eyelids open, eyes tracing the smooth black trousers, the pristine leather belt, up to the crisp black shirt. The buttons on that shirt were so shiny that, through them, she could see her miserable reflection.
Like a tattered blanket.
Her body felt like it was sinking into an abyss, her mind slipping further from logic. She couldn't even move, only able to observe the man in front of her through the corner of her eye. He knelt gracefully, his tanned, muscular hand gently prying apart her limp fingers as if handling something delicate. Contrary to his initial "repelling" action, he loosely held her hands, flipping them back and forth, looking intently, a strange interest flickering in his eyes.
Beneath his silk shirt, his chest rose and fell—calm, steady, untouched. Seraphine shut her eyes. Jealousy burned in her veins. Why couldn't she be like that? He stood—untouched, pristine, like a god among mortals. She lay in the dirt, crushed beneath the weight of the world.
Unfair!
Where were the bodyguards? Where was the medical team? Wasn't she someone the nation had sworn to protect? Why wasn't anyone saving her?
Tears streaked down her cheeks. Why wouldn't anyone save her?
All of this—damn it!