The Creature Keeper - Chapter 1

Tang Rou upgraded her Access Card and stepped out from the Control Island Console, inevitably passing by the Infection Zone.

Behind the glass walls were agonized humanoid beings. From this woman with a look of pity, they saw hope and pleaded for help, but Tang Rou was powerless.

There were still many failed synthetic products in the Base, whimpering in pain, wailing-half their faces human, the other half hideously distorted and unrecognizable creatures.

Many of them had once been researchers at this Experimental Base. For one reason or another, they had become part of the experiments themselves.

That afternoon, the Experimental Base received another batch of prisoners.

Cries and screams echoed throughout Zone A.

The Sea Rabbit boy clung to Tang Rou’s clothes. Frightened by the commotion, his whole body trembled; his slender form pressed close, hiding at the hem of her dress.

“Don’t be afraid.” She stroked the Sea Rabbit’s head, her voice gentle and soothing. “It’s alright, don’t be afraid.”

The beautiful boy, eyes red with panic, leaned into her palm. His crimson lips moved, but he couldn’t form a complete sentence.

“Rou…”

His voice was soft and trembling. He pressed his head against her hand, gently nuzzling, “Touch… don’t, go.”

His soft, sticky plea sounded almost like a child’s coaxing.

Her heart softened, and Tang Rou could only sit down, comforting his frightened self.

Those agonized cries came from prisoners in the early stages of modification-the pain of their bodies splitting and tearing was worse than any punishment, making them wish for death.

Yet, unfortunately, this was only the beginning. In the future, they would experience unimaginable tortures, one after another. It was a new mode of punishment: death row inmates contributing to science at the end of their lives.

The Sea Rabbit half-lay out of his tank, slender arms wrapping clinging around her leg. His fair, soft cheek pressed gently to her knee, dampening her white uniform.

Unseen by her, the boy’s crimson eyes were tinged with faint satisfaction and happiness.

What an immense indulgence this was.

This was his-his Feeder.

“Is Number 11 very scared?” Tang Rou asked softly.

“Scared…” Under her gentle caress, the Sea Rabbit boy’s long lashes trembled, and a delicate pink flush rose on his cheeks.

His words came out sticky and indistinct, laced with an unspoken shyness.

Behind the steel-carbon-reinforced glass in the next enclosure, the gloomy, handsome Half-Octopus Youth watched the scene with deep, expressionless eyes.

He was different from the Sea Rabbit. Because of his dangerous aggression, he was never allowed out of his tank, and thus had never been so close with his own Feeder.

He was named Number 17, a hybrid structure-half human, half cephalopod-another Experimental Subject under Tang Rou’s care.

If she turned around now, she would see the dark and terrifying storm in the eyes of this youth who always appeared quiet and docile before her.

Aselan always said Tang Rou possessed a kind of affinity.

It was rare for Experimental Subjects to develop feelings for researchers, especially in such cruel and painful experiments-and even more so, since this zone was home to oceanic cold-blooded creatures.

They were solitary, withdrawn, emotionless, and extremely dangerous.

Yet all the Experimental Subjects under Tang Rou’s care displayed extraordinary dependence and trust towards her, something that amazed everyone.

For example, the Sea Rabbit boy whose every tissue and drop of blood could be a cure, or that somber, exquisitely beautiful tentacled youth who resembled a pale sculpture.
There was also a giant, semi-transparent Jellyfish-Number 4, the blue-bottle mutant.

Experimental Subjects were not allowed to be given names. That was the rule.

Once something had a name, emotional attachment would inevitably follow, and unnecessary feelings were the most meaningless entanglement for the staff at the Experimental Base.

Tang Rou had once secretly named the first Experimental Subject she ever cared for. The result was that, after the Division Experiment on that subject failed, she cried for many days.

Since then, she had only called them by their numbers.

“See you tomorrow.”

Finishing her work, Tang Rou changed out of her uniform and faced the hardest moment of her day.

The Sea Rabbit whimpered, his two red eyes gazing at her, as if he were about to cry.

“Are you… leaving? Not… sleeping… here?”

The awkward words tumbled out of his mouth, his slender arm reaching out from the tank, trying to grab the hem of her clothes, but catching only air.

Number 17 also watched her in silence, raising his hand to touch the cold glass, quiet and full of longing.

Such farewells, like partings of life and death, played out almost every day-just like children in kindergarten, crying and refusing to be separated from their parents.

They were like the strictest overseers of the Base, wishing Tang Rou would stay at her post twenty-four hours a day, until she dropped dead from exhaustion.

Tang Rou had long since become immune to their sentimental goodbyes, finding them both amusing and exasperating.

She stepped out, passing through an undersea tunnel.

At the top of the aquatic area, a beautiful, ethereal, semi-transparent creature floated.

It was a Jellyfish so large it seemed to blot out the sky.

Its graceful ribbons were like jelly, smooth and delicate, expanding and contracting as it drifted in Tang Rou’s direction, tracing her outline through the glass.

People were always bewitched by beautiful creatures. It looked transparent and harmless, but in reality, the toxins within could kill in an instant.

This was the most poisonous, most terrifying Jellyfish known to the world.

“I’m leaving now,” she waved to the Jellyfish. “Good night, Number 4.”

Its graceful tentacles brushed against the glass, as if responding to her words.

.

Shedding her exhaustion, Tang Rou stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows of her apartment, looking down.

The surging sea hungrily devoured the edge of the land, and the sky was torn open by a torrential downpour.

The Experimental Base’s hotel-style apartments had 278 floors. A century ago, that would have been an astonishing number. The 162nd floor, where she lived, was once the world’s tallest building-now, it was just average.

Only ten percent of the land remained. There were no longer continents; all peoples and languages coexisted, and the land was humanity’s final “Babel Tower.”

Babel Tower-the biblical tower built by humanity to reach heaven, united against the flood that destroyed the earth.

This planet had undergone a mutation decades ago.

The sea expanded, swallowing more and more of humanity’s territory.

Over ninety percent of the world had become ocean.

The endless rain seemed to defy the law of conservation of matter. Ice caps melted, snowfields disappeared, and with them came viruses, mutations, and all sorts of strange evolutions.

And, out of nowhere, unknown and terrifying alien creatures appeared.

The “Babel Tower” Biological Experimental Base was born in response.