Heroes.
Every man dreams of becoming one at least once.
And yet, it seems I've become the opposite — a villain.
CRACKLE!!!
"AAAAAAARGH!!!"
"Hmm. Not enough to stimulate ability growth."
"Tsk. Looks like another failure."
"Well, at least we have plenty of test subjects. Small mercies."
A person was dying in agony from high-voltage electricity right in front of us.
The people in white lab coats standing around wore expressions ranging from blank indifference to profound disappointment.
Of course, I had a rough idea of who these white-coated researchers were.
And where this place was — the symbol pinned to my chest made that much clear enough.
It didn't take long before I understood the full picture: I was a member of a villainous organization that kidnapped mutants and superhumans and subjected them to inhumane experimentation.
A place called Black Cell.
'Of all things to get possessed into — the hero comic I was reading before bed...'
The first few days were genuinely disorienting.
But the water was already spilled.
And the only way out of here was in a body bag.
I was still mulling over what to do when the young woman who ran this facility — the Director — called for me.
"Maxwell?"
"Yes, Director. You called?"
"You seem to have settled in well enough. How would you feel about taking on an assignment?"
I had transmigrated into the body of a low-ranking scientist at the bottom of this organization.
That said, the organization had gone out of its way to recruit this body — apparently, I was considered quite the promising talent.
Which meant I had the luxury of choosing from a fairly important pool of assignments.
'But this organization destroys itself anyway, when the test subjects go berserk.'
The moment I took on something important, I'd be the first one torn apart when that happened.
But what if I kept refusing assignments?
Right now, since I'd only just arrived, everyone was content to let me observe. But the moment they decided I was useless, I'd be disposed of.
So I started digging through the organization's internal records, looking for anything I could use — and that's when I found a particular file.
[ Name: Gloria ]
[ Age: 12 ]
[ Gender: Female ]
[ Ability Type: Superhuman-type ]
[ Possesses numerous abilities including superhuman strength, flight, enhanced senses, regeneration, and more. ]
[ Incident Record: Recently destroyed an entire laboratory wing. ]
[ 17 researchers killed. ]
[ Personality: Antisocial tendencies, extreme narcissism, egocentric thinking, contempt for others, high aggression ]
'This villain was from here?!'
One of the most powerful villains in the story — a woman who cared for no one but herself and left mass casualties wherever she went — was spending her childhood in this very facility.
On a hunch, I checked whether any other villains were present.
This place was, without exaggeration, a cradle for the comic's antagonists.
So that's why it existed — to provide narrative justification for how these major villains turned out so twisted.
And now I understood why the organization eventually imploded on itself.
In that moment, a flash of insight cut through my mind.
This... if I played it right, I could use this.
I was currently in a position where I could take on virtually any assignment.
And according to the source material, villains like Gloria had suffered from severe emotional deprivation in childhood.
What if I treated the test subjects well?
Sure, I might fail and die.
But I was going to die horribly later anyway — might as well go faster and more comfortably, I figured.
With a rough plan taking shape, I went to the Director under the pretense of a research proposal.
**************
The Director read my proposal with an expression of genuine surprise.
"You want to observe how forming a bond with young test subjects affects experimental outcomes... That's a peculiar research angle."
"Even the smallest variable can fundamentally alter results in any experiment. And there's existing research suggesting that abilities are closely tied to psychological state."
"That's true enough. But Maxwell..." She paused. "Are you sure about this?"
Her expression shifted to something that looked almost like concern.
"That little psycho recently massacred a team of researchers. And the others have done much the same."
"No progress without risk. That is Black Cell's motto, as I understand it."
"Well, yes, but..."
The Director studied my eyes for a moment, then let out a quiet, amused breath.
"I suppose it wouldn't hurt to see what you're made of. As it happens, I've been needing someone to take charge of those little ones anyway."
"Would it be all right if it takes some time?"
"Of course. Just don't get yourself killed."
My research proposal was approved on the spot, and I was granted access to the young test subjects.
A clean first step — I was genuinely relieved.
But as the Director had implied, I was clearly in for a brutal time.
Then again, they say well begun is half done.
If I could build a genuine rapport with the test subjects, I'd have a real chance at surviving what was coming.
Of course, the wise don't dig just one well.
'I need to become a whistleblower from the inside.'
Even as a villain, I needed to leave room for the narrative of 'actually, this one had a conscience.' I needed a way to launder my identity.
The best outcome would be getting help from the protagonist's side — but those kids were probably ten years old right now, so the Hero Association was the more realistic option for reporting this place.
Filing records carried too high a risk of being traced, so I'd figure out the method later.
For now, it was time for the second step.
[ Danger Zone. ]
[ Detainee: Gloria ]
"......"
Could I really win over the heart of a narcissistic, personality-disordered twelve-year-old?
Only heaven knew.
***********************
The detention cell was larger and cleaner than I'd expected.
But a chilling bloodlust permeated every corner of the room.
The source of that killing intent appeared to be a young girl bound in a straitjacket.
She was suspended in midair like a butterfly caught in a web, and very young — but her appearance, the golden hair and blue eyes, confirmed it.
This was the Gloria I knew.
This was the turning point.
Gloria already possessed adult-level intelligence, which meant running my mouth carelessly would get me killed. So I started with the simplest possible thing.
Scrape.
I dragged a chair over and sat down in front of her.
Gloria gave me a puzzled look.
But she could have torn through that straitjacket at any moment and hadn't — which I counted as a success.
Time passed. I said nothing. I simply stayed.
The silence in the cell stretched on.
Then a lower-level manager in protective gear entered carrying a meal tray.
"Wh— why is a researcher in here—?!"
"Don't mind me. But I do have a question — she's bound like that. How exactly does she eat?"
"I— I feed her directly..."
Ah. The sheer terror on his face told me everything about how that went.
I explained the situation to the manager and took the tray from him.
Watching him bolt out of there the moment his job was done —
I was beginning to understand why Gloria had grown up starved of affection.
The meal was plain nutritional porridge.
I carefully spooned it up and fed it to her.
She accepted it without a word. She must have been very hungry, I thought —
"...Aren't you afraid of me?"
Gloria spoke sooner than I'd expected.
She fixed her gaze directly on me and let out a low, predatory growl.
But if she was going to say something, it had to be better than silence.
I simply held the spoon out toward her again.
Gloria clicked her tongue, clearly catching the implication — finish eating first, then talk — but once the porridge was gone, she seemed to lose interest. She closed her eyes.
**************
The dangerous first encounter with Gloria passed, and days turned into weeks.
I spent most of that time practically living in the detention cell.
The rest of Black Cell's personnel started looking at me like I'd lost my mind.
"How many lives does that Maxwell guy think he has, sticking around that psycho kid?"
"I heard he's planning to make contact with other dangerous test subjects too."
"Tsk, tsk... Someone's going to be cleaning up a corpse soon."
Everyone had written me off as a dead man walking.
But perhaps because I'd kept showing up and sitting beside her without a word —
Munch, munch, munch...
Gloria no longer fixed me with a murderous glare during meals.
Nearly three months passed with us like that.
I walked into the cell as usual and sat down in front of her —
And to my surprise, Gloria spoke.
"If I threw off this straitjacket, you'd be dead."
The killing intent flooded the room again.
Every hair on my body stood on end.
But if Gloria had wanted me dead, it would already be over.
"If I die, that's the end of it. But that straitjacket — you could break out of it right now, couldn't you."
She was intelligent, capable of tearing through dozens of people without effort — and yet still, in some ways, unformed.
She flinched, as if I'd struck something true, and her expression soured.
"When did you figure that out?"
"From the beginning."
In the source material, Gloria had an ability that let her see through lies.
I didn't know if she still had it now, but there was no reason to hide anything — so I'd been answering with nothing but the truth.
She looked genuinely puzzled.
I decided to offer a small gesture of trust.
"Everyone else here sees you as a monster. But I don't."
Because —
"Gloria. You are extraordinary."
****************
Some time after I gave Gloria my trust and belief, half a year had passed.
The changes were remarkable.
I had apparently been accepted as a permanent fixture of the cell — Gloria paid me no attention whatsoever.
And since I'd kept surviving, the Director had granted Gloria a small measure of freedom.
She was now allowed to move around the cell while still wearing the straitjacket.
Her arms were still bound, so I still had to feed her the porridge.
By the time the cell felt more familiar to me than my own office, the end of the year had rolled around.
Someone in the organization suggested throwing a small party.
Even this place is full of people living their lives, I thought, and went to make a brief appearance —
"Hahaha! The walking corpse himself!"
"Maxwell! Congratulations on surviving six months!"
"Here! A toast to you!"
I'd become something of a celebrity in the organization, and the other researchers immediately dragged me in.
"But what about Gloria's meal?"
"Oh, that? Don't worry about it."
"The Director already issued instructions to the lower-level managers."
So Gloria wouldn't go hungry even if I was late.
And since I couldn't afford to make enemies in the organization, a little socializing was necessary.
I decided to actually participate in the party for once.
Then something unexpected happened.
BEEEEEP!!
"What? What's that?"
"Did something escape from one of the labs?"
"Let's go check."
An alarm blared, and the organization's members looked around in confusion.
But when the security personnel swept the research complex, they found no damage anywhere.
As we all stood there sensing something was off —
A wave of unease crashed over me.
"Don't tell me..."
"Maxwell? What's wrong?"
"I need to go check on something."
"Do you need any—"
"No!! I'm fine!"
I broke away from the party and ran toward the Danger Zone.
As I got closer to Gloria's cell, the smell of blood grew steadily stronger.
I threw the door open —
"Ah... you finally came."
Gloria had dismembered the lower-level managers. She stood there, spattered in red, watching me with an utterly blank expression.