Chapter 2:

My number is 16

The Heracle's Diary - My Story in Another World

When I woke up, everything felt distant.

I didn’t know where I was. The walls were white. The air was too clean. My head ached.

They called the place a resort—even though it looked more like a prison. The halls were long and windowless. No clocks. No exits. Just silence.

There were others, all about my age—but no one talked. They gave us gray uniforms and gave a number.

Mine was 16.

They walked me down one of those endless white halls and stopped in front of a door. The man beside me put something into the keypad. The door slid open with a low hiss.

Inside was a bare cell. Metal bunk beds. A sink. Empty walls. And just enough space to stand and lie down.

There was someone already in there.

He was lying flat on the top bunk, hands folded behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. As I stepped inside, he turned his head, red eyes catching mine for a split second. His silver hair was a messy tangle, and the number 15 was stitched across his shirt.

Then he tilted his head down, looking over the edge of the bed.

“Hey, guess we’re roommates,” he said, smiling like this was some summer camp.

I didn’t respond. I walked over to the bottom bunk and laid down.

He shifted above me, rolling onto his stomach, arms dangling slightly over the side as he peered down at me through that mop of silver hair.

“So, what’s your name?” he asked, cheerful and nosy.

I pretended I don't see or hear him.

“What’s your name?” he asked again, still trying, voice light and casual like we were in some dorm room and not a concrete box.

I glanced down at him for half a second. That smile of his—too full of energy—it made something inside me click.

Talking to this guy would be a pain in the ass.

So I ignored him.

He stayed up there a second longer, then sighed and got back to his bunk. I thought that was the end of it...

“Why are you ignoring me?!” he whined like a kid. “That’s rude, you know?!”