Up in the higher levels of the Tower, the classroom for the little betas was cozy and inviting. The teachers were kind and affectionate, and the kids wearing beta uniforms played happily without a care.

One boy, however, wasn’t joining in the fun with the others; instead, he was sitting by himself in a corner, busy drawing something. The teacher approached, bending slightly to crouch beside him with a big smile on her face. She cheerfully asked, "Pelí, you’re drawing again, aren’t you? Can you show me about it?"

In his sketchbook was an amazing scene of a flower-filled meadow beneath a starry sky. A winding, vibrant pathway meandered through the meadow, leading to a fancy building made of shiny gemstones. It was full of bright colors and seemed like a scene straight out of a magical story.

"Wow, look at this beautiful flower meadow. Pelí, you’ve done such a great job," the teacher commented enthusiastically. She then pointed to a series of small red marks at the edge of the meadow, her tone becoming more serious, "But what are these red parts here? They look a little too bright."

The small red marks looked somewhat like blood, creating a feeling of discomfort.

"They represent stakes with alphas hanging on them, and the red is the blood dripping from them," the boy explained solemnly, pointing to the red area with a thin finger, his tone matter-of-fact.

The teacher’s expression shifted quickly, her smile freezing awkwardly on her face. She stood up swiftly and walked away.

"That wasn’t smart, you know the teacher wouldn’t appreciate it, why did you say it anyway?" remarked a girl about his age, sitting nearby engrossed in her book, not involved in the other children’s games.

She seemed slightly leaner and had a darker complexion compared to the boy, but her eyes sparkled brightly, and she had a nonchalant expression on her youthful face.

"But, Ligia, it’s something I saw in my dream." The boy gently touched the vivid flower meadow he had drawn, looking downcast, "I believe this is how the world outside the Tower looks like. I have always been in the Tower and have never witnessed the outside world. I just wanted to portray my dream world, honestly."

"Outside the Tower?" The girl, Ligia, responded, "Reality is quite different from this picture."

"Yes, exactly. Ligia, you came here when you were a bit older. You’ve witnessed the world outside, haven’t you? Can you describe the world out there?" The boy asked, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. "I deeply wish to get the opportunity to explore it someday."

"The world outside," Ligia echoed softly, lost in thought.

In her recollections, the environment beyond the Tower was always covered in coal dust, with never-ending duties of transporting coal balls, and encountering mean and nasty individuals. Her grandfather was old and had many health problems, but he was the sole person who genuinely cared for her. Unlike the teachers here who only displayed fake smiles. She found their true emotions repugnant, not even worthy of her attention. Tragically, her beloved grandfather had passed away; he died suddenly in the darkness in their rented room.

At night, Ligia was lying in her small bedroom, the persistent sounds of brush strokes coming from the room next door disturbing the silence. The strokes sounded fast and frantic, continuing deep into the night.

"Can’t you go to sleep already?" Ligia called out, her patience wearing thin.

"Ah, I’m sorry." The sounds of drawing from next door halted, replaced by the boy’s voice. "I just got carried away because this might be my last chance to draw."

The two rooms were separated by a sturdy door with a small window that had iron bars across it. Soon, the boy squeezed his sketchbook through the gaps in the bars.

"Ligia, I want to gift you my sketchbook." The boy’s youthful face appeared at the window, resembling someone trapped, yet he managed a faint but reassuring smile. "I have a feeling that you might be able to take it outside someday."

His complexion was pale, his demeanor somewhat frantic, as if he was aware that something ominous was imminent.

Ligia was aware of his special abilities; he had the strongest psychic power among their group. This ability allowed him sometimes to sense things far beyond their reach, even predicting certain future events.

However, having such immense power wasn’t considered favorable in their school.

Late at night, the silence in the student dormitory was disrupted by the sound of heavy footsteps echoing in the hallway. The noise was alarming to the two children who exchanged fearful glances through the window, their faces losing color.

Ligia hesitated briefly before quickly extending her hand to grab the sketchbook. As she lay against the cold wall clutching the sketchbook, she heard the door next door being opened. This was followed by a commotion, the noise of military boots stomping, and muffled sounds indicating the boy was being subdued.

Frozen in her place, Ligia curled up tightly, holding the sketchbook close while trying to maintain a steady breath, pretending to be in deep sleep. She knew, deep down, that the artistic boy next door had been taken away.

Such disappearances weren’t unusual in this secluded academy. Every so often, a fellow student would vanish.

Yet, the teachers would remain silent on the matter, forbidding any discussions or inquiries, as though the missing students, the young betas, never existed. Shortly, new students in pristine white beta uniforms would arrive, some very young, and others around Ligia’s age.

Life in the academy resumed its facade of cheerfulness, seemingly ever joyful. The door next door closed once more, and the footsteps retreated hastily, leaving behind a haunting silence. Everything was quiet again.

After what felt like an eternity, Ligia finally uncurled her tense body slowly. Under the dim glow of her night lamp, she opened the sketchbook that she had been clinging to, leafing through it one page at a time.