Dragon Raja 3; Chapter 11: Zero (1)

Dragon Raja 3

Renata hummed a nursery rhyme as she walked down the corridor. The chalk on the walls flaked off in pieces, and every few dozen meters, a white light bulb flickered, emitting a hissing noise. These old bulbs flashed like ghostly flames, each illuminating only a small segment of the hallway. Between two lights, it was pitch-black—alternating between light and shadow as far as the corridor extended.

Renata wasn’t scared; she grew up here. She wore her white cotton nightgown, holding her beloved stuffed bear. The bear was a birthday gift from the doctor, purchased by the icebreaker’s first officer in Moscow. In Black Swan Bay, it was an extravagant gift; the icebreaker only came once a year. Renata named the bear “Zorro.” She knew from books that Zorro was a masked hero, and all villains trembled at the sound of his name. When she slept at night, she also hugged Zorro. If any monsters hid in the darkness wanting to harm her, Zorro would take them down.

The corridor’s right side was a thick wall, and the left side had small rooms—thirty-eight in total. On the iron door of each room, a number was painted in white, from 1 to 38, with each room housing a child, altogether thirty-eight children. Renata was number 38, the last one.

She peeked through the small window of one iron door. A boy named Yakov was sleeping in the small bed inside. She picked up a piece of the flaked-off wall and tossed it inside. The wall fragment hit Yakov’s face, and his eyes suddenly opened, his pupils glowing golden in the darkness. His gaze slowly swept the entire room. After confirming no danger, Yakov closed his eyes again. He hadn’t truly woken up; it was more like a lizard’s instinctive response. When a lizard is asleep and feels a change in the wind, it doesn’t wake up immediately. Instead, part of its nervous system awakens first, assessing the surroundings, and if all seems fine, it continues to sleep.

Renata knew he wouldn’t wake up; she was just doing it for fun, out of boredom—mischievous without the nurses knowing.

Children who had undergone surgery were all like Yakov; once they fell asleep, they wouldn’t easily wake up, only responding to the clapper’s sound, following along.

Surgery-altered children didn’t need to get up at night, but Renata hadn’t had the surgery, so sometimes she would get up to use the toilet. The nurses were too lazy to always unlock the door for the “paper doll,” nor did they want to deal with her wetting the bed, so sometimes they wouldn’t lock Renata’s door—she could just get up herself if she needed. The head nurse had sternly warned Renata not to wander around under the guise of using the bathroom, ordering her to go quickly and come back right away. If caught wandering, she’d face confinement or surgery.

But Renata was sly and quickly figured out the nurses’ routines. After midnight, they wouldn’t check the rooms; they were in the duty room drinking and playing cards. At that time, the entire floor belonged to Renata—she could do whatever she wanted. She patrolled the floor like a little queen surveying her domain—going to the utility room, then to the equipment room, tossing wall fragments at sleeping children, then warming herself by the heat pipe vent.

She had used this opportunity to search every area of the floor but found no trace of the black serpent.

Renata still remembered the first time the black serpent appeared. That night, she had made a mistake and was being punished in solitary confinement. She lay by the cold iron door, crying, hoarsely calling “Mama.” It was the most she had ever cried, the nurses yelling at her through the door to cry until she was hoarse, so she’d finally quiet down. And so she cried loudly, hoping someone in the world would come to save her. She cried until midnight when she could cry no longer, yet no one came.

Moonlight shone in through the small window, illuminating her thin white cotton nightgown and her legs, which were so thin they seemed almost transparent.

That night, Renata realized one thing: those who cry out for help to the world are often the very ones the world will never come to save.

For the first time, she thought maybe she could die.

Just then, the entire building shook violently, as if countless metals were roaring. A massive figure like a black river swam through the corridor, with golden eyes shining like bright flames. The black serpent had come, bringing with it a fierce wind. A purplish-blue current clung to its scales and the iron doors. The iron scales on its body opened and closed like joyful clappers. As it passed by the confinement room, it glanced at Renata, and its huge tail struck the iron door forcefully.

And so, the door opened. Renata ran out, staring in a daze at its huge silhouette.

It had come… to save her?

Renata sat in the dark at the end of the corridor, covering her face and crying loudly. She wasn’t scared; she was overjoyed. There was someone in this world who would come to save her after all. There was someone who could hear her voice, after all. She wasn’t alone to the point of having no kindred.

In some corner of this world, there must be someone born for you. Even if you’re standing at the edge of a cliff, don’t lose hope. Hold on for just one more second, and that person will appear in front of you like a storm or lightning. You will leap onto their horse, even if they are a demon imprisoned by God for a thousand years.

She stopped walking. Ahead was the end of the corridor, where there was a lonely iron door with a large “Zero” painted in red on it.

“Room Zero.”

There were 39 small rooms on this floor, but the numbering only went up to Renata’s Room 38. The extra room was Room Zero. There were only 38 children in total, and perhaps Room Zero also housed a child, but that child had never appeared, never went outside with Renata and the others, never ate in the cafeteria, and never joined in the evening activities like watching revolutionary films. So, Room Zero should be an empty room. Some daring children had peeked inside and said it was a frightening solitary confinement room with something resembling a torture rack; others said there were actually two children in there and that they had faintly heard them arguing. In any case, Room Zero was a mystery, and the nurses used it to scare the children, saying, “The thing in Room Zero will eat you!”

According to Chinese feng shui, a room at the end of a corridor is a gathering place for all things unclean, where terrible things might grow. Renata knew nothing of this; she only instinctively disliked Room Zero. She had explored every other area on the floor except for Room Zero.

A dim kerosene lamp hung in front of the iron door, swaying on its own even though there was no wind.

Suddenly, a strange thought popped into Renata’s head: could the black serpent be hiding in Room Zero? Tonight, her mind felt strange. The usually intimidating Room Zero now seemed mysterious and alluring. Without realizing it, she had crossed the “No Entry” sign. The kerosene lamp swayed above, casting shifting shadows. The iron door was covered in rust, with a large padlock hanging from it. Renata gently touched the padlock. She wasn’t ready to open the door and find out what was inside; besides, she couldn’t open it anyway.

Series Navigation

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