Paw.
The sound of a stone mortar and pestle grinding rang out through the dim cave.
"It hurts, it hurts."
Paw. Paw.
"Cold. I'm cold. It hurts."
Pawpaw.
"Heya, you want some candy?"
The soft voice snapped a youth-me out of his trance. The distant muttering, the rhythmic grind—cut off. That voice pierced through it all.
I looked to my right.
A snake. Its fangs glinted despite the dim light. Its mouth hung open, pink tissue framing the twin, venom-laced needles. Any normal person would've screamed. Shouted. Flinched.
But not me.
Past the serpent's head, I saw her.
A girl. Brown hair tied into two messy buns. Slightly crooked eyes. In her mouth—pink flesh and grey-brown scales. Snake meat. She chewed, smiling wide, like a kid with a lollipop.
"No," I replied flatly.
"Have some! Have some!" she insisted, pushing the head closer and closer—like a child urging a parent to try their favorite snack.
Instinctively, I slapped her hand away and stood. Dirt clung to my skin. My clothes were tattered rags, the last echoes of some Chinese-style garments you'd see beggars wear in a webtoon.
"I said I don't want any!" I snapped.
But she just giggled and kept chewing, unbothered.
"Oi! Stop slacking off! Make the Blood Condensation Pills or I'll beat you bloody!"
A booming voice exploded from the cave entrance—the only way in or out.
A man stood there, clad in white robes like a Taoist from some fantasy flick. In one hand, a whip. He cracked it against the stone floor, a sharp crack that made his threat crystal clear. On his waist hung a dao, short and worn. I recognized the design on the hilt.
I gave a shallow bow and returned to my grinding. Menial labor. Repetition.
Why am I still here? Shouldn't I have woken up by now?
The sound of grinding returned. The candy girl skipped away to bother someone else—another one like me. Another broken piece in this strange puzzle.
Looking around, the pattern was obvious.
This cave was full of defective people.
Physically or mentally—something was off with all of them. Skin conditions. Albinism. Brittle limbs. Some looked underdeveloped, faces that reminded me of children with Down syndrome. Some twitched. Some stared blankly. Some whispered to no one.
Where the hell am I?
That question had haunted me since the moment I opened my eyes here. This cave, this place, guarded by that robed man… it wasn't normal. And what bothered me most was the why.
Why was I here?
This place seemed like a dumping ground for the unfit, the unwanted. A world where the imperfect are discarded, unlike the 21st century where, flawed or not, you're still human. Still given a place. Some semblance of dignity.
But me? I'm normal. Aren't I?