A Veiled Harem

Prologue - Birth of the protagonist

I have escaped the white room. Heavy words, but for me, the words are factual, devoid of the emotional weight they might carry for another. I understand that my departure from my father's institution—a place where children are mere objects, tools to be used—is significant. Yet, I feel nothing. No triumph, no fear, just a hollow awareness of my new circumstances. A mere realisation that I have moved.

The institution was a world of sterility and precision, where emotions were considered flaws, weaknesses to be eradicated. My father, the director, believed in control above all else. He shaped us, not with the warmth of a parent's touch, but with the cold exactitude of a sculptor chiseling away at marble. We were his creations, expected to function, to obey, to never question. That was what the white-room was.

I was a model subject, never rebelling, never showing a hint of the chaos he so feared. But somewhere, buried deep within the recesses of my mind, a thought took root—a thought that perhaps there was more to existence than this. It was this thought, not emotion, that propelled me out of the institution's gates and into the uncertainty of the world beyond. To figure out more about a world I was so clueless to.

...

I am aware that my father will not let this transgression stand. His influence is vast, his resources formidable. He has eyes and ears in every corner of society, and he will use them to find me. I must be vigilant, always one step ahead, always blending into the background. Emotion would be a liability now, a crack in my ever-covering armor, and so its absence is my strength. 

I have heard of a place, a school, where young minds are nurtured, where the future is forged not from the cold metal of obedience but from the fires of creativity and individuality. I plan to go there, to learn not just how to blend in, but how to live. I do not feel excitement at this prospect, but I recognize its importance. It is a place where my father's reach may finally falter, where I can be more than a number, more than an object. It can be home, a place that I can go.

I do not dream, but I calculate. I strategize. I plan. I know the dangers that lie ahead, the traps that my father will set. I am prepared to face them, to outthink the man who made me what I am. I will use the tools he gave me—logic, reason, the ability to detach from the human frailties he so despised—to build a future for myself. The tools he gave me will be his own downfall, nurturing me will be his biggest mistake.

This future is not bright with hope, for hope is a feeling, and I am devoid of such things. But it is a future nonetheless, a series of moves on a chessboard that I navigate with precision. I am the pawn that has crossed the board, seeking to become something more, something beyond the scope of my father's vision. Something far, far more.

And when he comes for me, as I know he will, I will face him not as a son, but as an equal. I will show him that even his perfect, emotionless creation can outmaneuver the master. I will prove that even in the absence of feeling, there is a will, a desire for autonomy that cannot be quenched. I will bring down the man who had brung me up, 

So I move forward, one calculated step at a time, towards a future that is mine to shape. I am ready for whatever comes, for I am the boy who escaped the institution, the boy without emotion, the boy who will not be found.

ANHS..

Next week, ANHS will mark the commencement of an unprecedented chapter in my life—the initiation into a government school where the rules are strict, and the walls are impenetrable to outside influence. It's a fortress in its own right, a place where my father's tendrils of control cannot reach. Here, no outside contact is permitted, a policy that serves as a shield for my continued anonymity and safety. I recognize the strategic advantage of such an environment; it is the perfect hideaway for someone like me, a boy devoid of emotion, a boy who has become a fugitive from his own progenitor's designs. This school is not just an educational institution; it is my sanctuary, my stronghold against the looming threat of a father whose influence is both far-reaching and insidious. A place where I can be safe. While I do not feel the comforting embrace of security, I acknowledge its presence, as tangible as the walls that stand between me and the world outside.