"That concludes the Class-D Personnel Agreement. Please follow it strictly; violations may result in execution. Your designation is D-438. Your work assignment will be issued tomorrow at the designated site. For now, please follow the guidance system and proceed to the Class-D Residential Containment Zone."

(A/N: Normally, Class-D personnel ID numbers should start from five digits. However, consecutive numerals are often censored in text, and writing them in Chinese characters feels awkward. So we're using three-digit IDs for readability—please understand.)

Listening to Dr. Murasame Reine's cold voice—

Shinkawa Shoichi stumbled to his feet in a daze.

Following the directions on the wall, he made his way out. Along the path, glowing signs on the walls guided him.

Soon, he arrived at a public area.

Everywhere he looked, he saw people dressed in the same orange uniforms—The same ones from the earlier execution footage.

All of them, like him, wore metallic collars around their necks.

The atmosphere gave Shinkawa Shoichi the unsettling feeling of being back in prison. However, no one approached or spoke to him.

And at that moment, Shinkawa had no desire to talk to anyone either.

Following the indicators, he arrived at his assigned room, marked "467."

Inside was a set of orange Class-D attire. Aside from that, there was a steel prison-style bed, a toilet, and nothing else.

At least it was a single-occupant room.

Shinkawa weakly tossed the uniform onto the ground.

Collapsed onto the steel bed.

Instinctively, he reached up and touched his neck. That cold metal touch made him shiver involuntarily.

He couldn't stop recalling the image of that head exploding into a bloody blossom.

Shinkawa Shoichi trembled uncontrollably.

At some point in his haze, he unknowingly fell asleep.

And when he woke again—

He clutched his aching head and sat up.

It felt like his brain had been scrambled—he was in unbearable pain. He'd never experienced a hangover before—But he figured it probably felt like this.

He shook his head groggily.

Then looked around—

Only to widen his eyes in shock.

The room had changed drastically.

It was no longer the plain single cell from yesterday.

Everywhere he looked now had an ultra-modern, sci-fi feel. Hydraulic steel doors, unfamiliar metal walls.

Everything had changed—except the steel bed.

Shinkawa Shoichi stared around in confusion.

Then noticed—

His clothes had changed too.

He was now wearing the orange D-class uniform he'd thrown on the floor yesterday.

Impossible!

He'd only fallen asleep, not died!

How did someone change his clothes without him noticing!?

Just as he was reeling from the realization—

A projection appeared on the wall.

Dr. Murasame Reine's image flickered into view.

"D-438. This is the site of your thirty-day assignment. Follow the guide to learn your duties."

As her voice echoed—

The thick hydraulic door rumbled open.

Revealing a stairwell leading upward.

The moment he stepped out—

The metal door slammed shut behind him.

Shinkawa broke into a cold sweat.

If he'd hesitated even a second—

His legs might've been crushed by that door.

At that moment, he also noticed—

On the outside of the metal door was a panel with several buttons:

Cleanse, Food, Sleep, and Emergency Call.

Below the buttons was a vending-machine-like opening.

As Shinkawa was studying it in confusion—

The stairwell lights turned red.

A clear warning: move now or face consequences.

With the threat of execution looming, he scrambled up the stairs.

At the top was another steel door.

"For the next thirty days, your task will be to collect all visible metal debris in the exterior zone. Departure is at 7 a.m., return at 6 p.m. Time is based on this site's system. A wristwatch is to your left. Upon return, you will undergo a simple sanity check to gain entry. Complete thirty days of this work, and you will regain your freedom."

Dr. Murasame Reine's voice rang out again.

"Huh? Cleaning trash?"

Before Shinkawa could finish processing it—

The door roared open.

He grabbed the wristwatch and walked out.

And immediately froze in place.

All around him was endless yellow sand—

A desert.

He stood on a cement platform amid the dunes, with "24site" painted on the ground.

Beside the platform was a massive sand vehicle.

Shinkawa approached it.

Pulled the door handle.

It opened effortlessly.

Inside was a driving cabin.

The sand vehicle was autonomous—Equipped with metal detectors and an incineration unit.

All he had to do—Was ride in the vehicle, exit when metal debris was detected, toss the junk into the rear compartment, press the incinerate button—

And the job was done.

The process was so simple Shinkawa found it hard to believe.

Like many Class-D personnel—

His first thought was:

Is such a simple job really enough to earn freedom?

Still, whether or not he believed it—

He had no choice.

And simplicity was a blessing in itself.

Soon, the vehicle stopped.

Shinkawa got out, and in the sand ahead—Found a broken metal table leg. Completely rusted and ruined. Who even dumped this here?

He tossed it into the back compartment.

Pressed the incinerate button.

Done.

The whole day passed like that.

He found only three pieces of metal scrap total. The rest of the time, he lay in the car, completely idle.

At 6 p.m. sharp—

He was returned to the site.

Looking at the familiar facility—

Shinkawa was still utterly confused.

Was it really this easy?

Before today, he'd assumed he'd be used as a lab rat or test subject. Otherwise, how could redemption come so cheap?

At the door—

A verification prompt appeared:

"Please select all images containing motorcycles."

A captcha grid popped up.

Shinkawa's mouth twitched.

What kind of test is this? A CAPTCHA?

Still, he quickly picked out the tiles with motorcycles—

Pressed confirm.

Too easy.

The door opened with a loud bang.

Shinkawa descended the stairs.

Arrived at the second door.

When he stood in front of it—

The "Cleanse" button lit up.

Nozzles appeared on the walls.

A second later—

A liquid-gas mix sprayed all over him.

Three seconds later—

The nozzles retracted.

Shinkawa was stunned to find—All the sand and dirt on his body were gone.

Yet his clothes remained perfectly dry.

Next, the "Food" button lit up.

The dispenser spat out:

Bun base, lettuce, patty, pickles, tomato, and top bun.

It was a hamburger.

Just as he was about to drool—

The dispenser ejected it forcefully—

The burger flew and hit the ground, falling apart.

Shinkawa Shoichi: Are you fucking kidding me!?

"Class-D personnel have rights too, dammit! I'd rather starve! I'll jump off this platform before I eat—"

Well. In the end, he gave in.

The ground was spotless.

And after a month in prison—

Eating things most wouldn't even call food—

He finished the scattered burger without complaint.

Once he was done—

The "Food" button dimmed.

The "Sleep 5.6" button lit up.

The door opened.

Shinkawa walked in and lay down on the steel bed.

Thus ended his first day on the job.

But unknown to him—Dr. Murasame Reine was watching through the surveillance feed.

She glanced sideways—

At a screen filled with rapidly shifting data.

It was a live readout of Shinkawa Shoichi's physiological and psychological indicators.

The Foundation had implanted monitoring devices inside him. At this moment, his vitals were fluctuating wildly.

He was dreaming about something.

Though Dr. Murasame couldn't see the content—

Based on past descriptions from other Class-D personnel with this task—

He was likely dreaming of a red telephone booth.

Once the data stabilized—

Dr. Murasame turned off the monitor.