Nagase Mami - Wheelchair-bound Young Ngod-220 -... -

Click.

But her hands were shaking. And she was smiling. A broken, ugly, real smile. Nagase Mami - Wheelchair-bound Young NGOD-220 -...

The hum stopped. The pressure vanished. The blindfold felt just like cloth again. A broken, ugly, real smile

The instruction was maddeningly simple. He would leave the room. She was to transfer herself from her chair to the hospital bed, secure the ankle restraints to the bed frame—tight enough to feel real but loose enough to release with a single pull of a safety cord—and put on the blindfold. Then, she was to press the red button. The blindfold felt just like cloth again

Her room was neat, sterile, and unbearably quiet. The only personal touch was a single climbing shoe, still faintly chalked, sitting on her bedside table like a relic.

Today was different. A letter had arrived, not by email, but by traditional hamon folded paper, delivered by a courier in a dark suit. It was from a Mr. Kazuo Hoshino, the director of a private support foundation she had never heard of: the "New Genesis Outreach Division." The letterhead was stark, gray, and oddly formal.

Mami looked from the card to her climbing shoe on the nightstand—how had it gotten here?—and then back to Hoshino.