She was facing the wrong way.
It was the first thing I noticed.
While every other girl had their forehead pressed dutifully to the stone, bodies trembling under the weight of my presence, this one had her hands flat to the wall like she was feeling for something that wasn't there. Her head tilted just slightly to the left — not in disobedience. Not in fear.
In focus.
Which made no sense, because the girl couldn't see.
I realized it the moment I took a step closer. Her eyes didn't track sound. They didn't flick or follow movement like they should have. Her pupils were glazed over — not milky, not dramatic — just unused. Disconnected from the world around her.
Blind.
And yet she felt me.
Somehow.
She didn't lift her head. Didn't breathe too fast or too slow. But there was a subtle shift in her fingers, just a twitch — as though her body understood something was in front of her even if her eyes didn't.
I stopped walking.
One step short of passing her.
And the world around me tightened.
The guards behind me slowed, then froze completely. The handler's breath hitched. Everyone knew what my silence meant. I didn't stop often. And never for long.
But I stayed there, gaze pinned to her like a blade to a throat.
She wasn't beautiful. Not by our standards. Too thin. Hair a little frizzy. Skin pale but not luminous. She looked more like a misplaced ghost than a girl. And yet—there was something in her posture that made me uneasy.
No. Not uneasy.
Irritated.
She didn't know who I was. Couldn't. And yet she stood there with that… stillness. That stubborn, quiet ruin of a presence like she'd already survived everything worth fearing. And that infuriated me.
"Who is that?" I asked, voice quiet but cold enough to make the handler flinch.
She scrambled through her file. "Unit 97-9… unnamed on record. Oh, I—wait. Yes. Charlotte, maybe. Low D-Class. Marked defective. She wasn't scheduled for inspection, my lord, she's not a—"
"She's blind."
"Yes," the handler rushed to agree, "fully, we think. From birth. The Red List had her for disposal, but someone must've—"
"She wasn't disposed," I said. "And she's standing."
"Yes, my lord. But we assumed she was—"
I turned slightly, just enough for my voice to darken.
"I didn't ask what you assumed."
Silence fell again. The kind that ripples through the marrow of lesser creatures. The kind that chokes.
I stared at the girl.
Charlotte.
No. That name was too soft. Too human.
She wasn't human anymore, not to me. She was a question. A disruption. An error in the algorithm of my world, and I hated errors.
I let my mind stretch forward — a light mental scan. Nothing invasive. Just enough to get a taste of her thoughts.
And I hit… silence.
Not a mental block. Not a trained mind.
Just… silence.
A void.
Like she lived in a soundproof chamber behind her own forehead.
I blinked once, annoyed. Then twice, fascinated.
She wasn't resisting me.
She simply wasn't reachable.
I stepped closer, slow and deliberate.
Still, she didn't flinch.
Didn't turn her head.
Didn't gasp or cry or call for mercy.
Her fingers just moved again — grazing the wall in a soft pattern, like she was mapping it. Like it was the only thing in her world that made sense.
"Bring her to my palace," I said, flat and final.
The handler hesitated.
"Sire… she isn't viable. If you'd like a different—"
"I want that one."
I didn't raise my voice. I didn't need to. The guards already moved.
One of them muttered under his breath, something about not wasting resources. I didn't bother correcting him. They'd understand soon enough.
They reached for her arms.
She didn't fight.
Didn't resist.
Just turned slightly, enough to let them guide her. The smallest crease formed between her brows, like she was confused, not frightened.
That made it worse.
She should've been afraid.
They all were.
That was how the system worked. That was how I worked.
Fear maintained order.
So why wasn't she afraid?
I turned and walked ahead, boots echoing down the corridor, leaving the rest behind to follow. My mind kept whispering her name — no, not her name. Just her.
I didn't want her.
I wanted to break her.
Just to feel the world shift back into place.