Author: Himezaki Shiu	Original Source: Syosetu
Translator: Jiro	English Source: Re:Library

Project GB is an official initiative by Re:Library.

The room was filled with hooded figures, their faces completely obscured. Apart from the ones who had dragged me in, I couldn’t even tell if they were men or women. The whole atmosphere was suffocating and grotesque.

They laid me down and chained my limbs to the corners of the bed, leaving me unable to move. Only my neck and fingers retained any freedom of movement.

The hooded figures exchanged glances and, after a brief nod, brought in another man from an adjoining room. His eyes were blindfolded, his mouth gagged, and his limbs tied. He groaned in muffled protest, his fear palpable.

Before I could fully grasp the situation, one of the hooded figures stepped forward and, with a single stroke, severed the man’s head.

Blood erupted from his neck like a fountain, and his body crumpled lifelessly to the floor. His head, still blindfolded, rolled to a stop near the bed where I lay.

Though I couldn’t see it directly from my position, the metallic stench of blood and the thud of his head against the floor made my stomach churn.

(What the hell is going on?!)

As I reeled in confusion, the hooded figures began to chant. Their low, eerie voices—both male and female—resonated in a way that made my ears ring and sent chills rippling through my entire body.

A faint glow surrounded the bed, and before I could make sense of it, a black, hazy substance began to coalesce in the air around me. Then, without warning, the haze latched onto me. Before I could react, it forced its way into my body through my mouth and nose.

(W-What the f̲u̲c̲k̲ is this?! Stop! Stop it! STOP!)

I couldn’t scream or move. All I could do was endure the violation.

◇◇◇

After what felt like an eternity, the black haze finished entering my body. And yet… nothing seemed different.

(Did the experiment fail? Ha! Serves them right!)

I smirked internally, ready to spit at the hooded figure who approached me.

But then something felt wrong. I couldn’t move my body at all. It wasn’t the shackles—this was something entirely different.

No matter how much I strained, my body refused to respond. Yet I could still feel the bed beneath me and the cold metal of the shackles biting into my wrists and ankles. My eyes wouldn’t close, growing drier by the second, leaving me helpless to the discomfort.

“Who are you?” one of the hooded figures asked, their voice calm yet piercing.

(I’m me, of course.)

I wanted to say the words, but nothing came out. My mouth wouldn’t move at all.

Then, a voice echoed:
“Me? I? Who am I? Who? Me? I am who?”

The voice startled me, and for a moment, I didn’t recognize it. Then it hit me—it was coming from my own mouth. It was me speaking those crazed, nonsensical things.

(What the hell is going on? It feels like someone’s taken control of my body—but is that even possible?)

“You are… That’s right, let’s call you Kyosuke for now. That’s the name of this body,” one of the hooded figures declared.
“Kyosuke. Okay,” the voice—my voice—replied obediently.

(Kyosuke is me! Not you! Don’t you dare use my name without permission! You’re not me! What the hell is happening?!)

“What do you think is going on?” another hooded figure asked.
“Well, we placed him in a body that already housed a soul. The original soul could have been broken or altered,” came the reply.
“And the original soul? What’s become of it?”
“It’s either gone, integrated, or still lingering inside the body. Since the ring is still active, that implies the connection to the original soul hasn’t been severed entirely.”

“But he spoke, didn’t he? As far as I know, His Highness forbade him from speaking.”
“That might indicate that Slave Magic binds to the soul rather than the body¹. An unexpected discovery—a significant one. However, this also suggests that the integration isn’t complete. Most likely, the original Takuma Kyosuke’s soul is either dormant or still conscious.”
“It’d be tragic if it were conscious.”
“Tragic? I’d call it poetic justice. He must’ve done something to deserve being sent down here. His awareness, if intact, is a fitting punishment.”

(Look at them, chatting away like it’s some casual experiment. Give it back! Give me back my body! I never allowed this! It’s mine!)

“Moving on, Kyosuke, there are a few things I need to verify. Please remain here,” one of the hooded figures said.
“Okay,” the impostor replied in my voice.
“Are you going to see His Highness?” another asked.
“Yes. We’ll likely need to prepare a new ring for this Kyosuke. While he can somewhat understand what’s being said and appears obedient, that’s likely due to his ego not having fully formed yet. Besides, he retains the old Kyosuke’s physical abilities, and we can’t risk him going berserk.”
“Good point. The people here wouldn’t be able to restrain him if he did.”

Their words barely registered in my mind. All I cared about was reclaiming my body.

“By the way, is there a chance the old Kyosuke could reawaken and take back control?”
“There’s no precedent for it, so it’s impossible to say. But theoretically? Highly unlikely.”

Unfortunately, I didn’t hear the rest of the conversation.

◇◇◇

Eventually, they gave the impostor a new ring and sent him back to my room.

But for me, it felt hopeless. I couldn’t regain control of my body. Even though I could feel everything—the bed beneath me, the cold metal of the shackles—I couldn’t move.

When the body rested, I would lose consciousness entirely, only to reawaken when it did. Walking, eating, breathing—every action was controlled by someone else. I could feel the pain when the body was hurt, but I could do nothing about it².

It was like being a passenger in my own existence, powerless and trapped. This wasn’t living. It was torment. Yet somehow, I hadn’t lost my sanity.

The person using my body had been ordered to train, avoid my classmates, and refrain from killing anyone unless explicitly commanded. They were using him as a stand-in for me. But I couldn’t understand what that truly meant.

◇◇◇

Another day passed.

(Give it back, give it back, GIVE IT BACK! Give me back! Stop copying me! You are not me!)

I screamed endlessly into the void, but it was useless³. The man wearing my face had fully taken over my life. Yoshiki, Yuichi, even Shun—they didn’t notice a thing. Not a single one of them realized that this Kyosuke wasn’t me.

This wasn’t me. It was a monster—an unknown creature that had stolen my body. And yet, no one saw it. I didn’t even know who I was anymore. Why could I still think? Why was I still conscious when I had no control?

I was powerless. I couldn’t do anything. It was like I’d turned into a ghost. I could think, but I couldn’t act. I was as good as dead.

I prayed—desperately—that someone would see through the impostor. That someone would notice this wasn’t me. That somehow, I wouldn’t lose myself completely. But no one did. Heartless. Cruel. B̲a̲s̲t̲a̲r̲d̲s̲.

Sometimes, I thought it would’ve been better if I’d simply ceased to exist. Watching this stranger move through the world, living my life with my face, while I was nothing more than a helpless observer, was a torment beyond words.

I felt like I was losing my mind.

No—I wanted to lose my mind. To spiral into insanity would have been a relief. Why did I have to remain sane? Why was watching the only thing left to me? This world was utterly twisted.

I wished for my existence—me—to simply vanish.

I knew I was still here. I could feel my thoughts, my presence. And yet, I was gone from this world. In my place, a hollow pretender had been born. This was the beginning of my personal hell.

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Footnotes:

Robinxen: This has some scary future implications if the author follows up on it.
Robinxen: That’s got to be a nightmare.
Robinxen: Author… holy… like the guy was an a̲s̲s̲h̲o̲l̲e̲ I get it, but this option is a bit nuclear isn’t it? You fully went I Have No Mouth And I Must Scream on him.