Anomaly

Although curiosity about the meaning of Nyara’s words still simmered in my mind, honestly, I preferred to stay in my room, just as Emily had asked me to.
Maybe, just maybe, things could resolve themselves… as long as I did absolutely nothing? It was a strange, almost naïve idea, and I had no concrete experience to back it up.
Sometimes, events seemed to unfold around me precisely because of me. Other times, I was just a passive presence, oblivious to what was happening. In the end, I decided to cling to the silent hope that by not interfering, the chaos out there would choose to ignore me too.
Anyway, the exhibition continued without major incidents. I stayed in my room, paying close attention to the visitors moving around the place. Through the sensors, I could clearly tell: they were dangerously close to my door.
To be clear, my room is at the end of the hallway, just before the elevator that leads to the lower floor. It was inevitable that when they approached there, they would pass nearby.
As this thought drifted through my mind and I stared at the ceiling with indifference, voices began to softly echo — distant at first, like muffled murmurs through thick walls. They came from the other side of the glass, that is, from the hallway stretching beyond my room. Slowly, I lowered my head and turned my gaze to the transparent partition, focusing carefully.
The voices grew clearer by the second, as if people were approaching with slow, dragging, disinterested steps. That’s when the first human appeared, crossing into my line of sight. His hair was relatively long, falling messily over his forehead, as if he hadn’t seen a comb in days.
His freshly shaved beard left his face slightly red, and his eyes — deep-set and drooping — showed an old, almost chronic fatigue. His expression was empty, filled with resigned boredom, as if he was there only out of obligation, with no trace of curiosity or enthusiasm.
But at the exact moment he turned his face toward the glass and his eyes landed inside my room, our gazes met... and for a brief, strange instant, I felt as if the very air had been compressed by an invisible force.
A sudden tension, almost tangible, seemed to vibrate in the atmosphere. The disheveled man instinctively stepped back, as if his muscles had acted before he even understood why.
His eyes, once half-closed in boredom or disinterest, were now wide open, taken over by an involuntary alertness — as if suddenly something inside him had awakened and silently warned him that what he was seeing... simply wasn’t normal.
The other visitors began to gather behind him. At first, driven by the quiet curiosity that accompanies the unknown. But soon, the atmosphere changed. A subtle discomfort began to spread — that creeping feeling rising from the base of the spine and slowly climbing, as if something invisible touched the skin. Eyes widened, some stepped back unknowingly. Muffled whispers went through the group, carrying more nervousness than words.
No one could say exactly what they were seeing, but everyone knew, somewhere deep and instinctive, that what was in front of them wasn’t human. There was something seriously wrong about the shape, the way the light touched my translucent skin, the subtle ripples of a body that seemed gelatinous, too alive. I remained still.
Or rather, as still as my structure allowed me to be. Even when static, there was something inside me that never seemed to rest: a slow and subtle oscillation, almost liquid, as if an invisible current quietly flowed beneath the surface of my skin. From afar, this movement was imperceptible, almost a trick of the light, but up close, it became hypnotizing.
My skin — if it could even be called that — gleamed under the artificial light, showing a texture resembling translucent gelatin, almost liquid, as if about to melt to the touch. The silhouette, at first glance, looked human... but that was all: a silhouette. The illusion faded on the second look.
Moreover, my appearance, from a scientific point of view, was anything but human — I would probably be classified as a chimera. Two curved horns, dark as obsidian, sprouted from my head, twisting backward like those of a mythological creature.
Attached to my tailbone, two pairs of wings spread like celestial fans, resembling angel wings, although they radiated a presence that made them more enigmatic than sacred.
My height fluctuated between what would be considered tall and short, defying any common body standard. Looking at me at first sight inevitably sparked a strange curiosity.
One of the visitors, an older woman with gray hair tied in a tight bun and a stern look that seemed to pierce the scene before her, murmured almost inaudibly: “Is it... breathing?”
I heard the woman’s words, and honestly, even for me it was hard to understand how all of that worked. My chest rose and fell at a calm rhythm, perfectly mimicking the movements of breathing — but it was only a simulation. Inside, there were no lungs pulling air, no bones supporting my body, nor any internal system like humans or animals have.
In the end, my body was nothing but an amorphous, undefined volume. My skin, although at first glance it seemed ordinary, revealed a strange texture to the touch — soft and elastic, like a fluffy gelatin that gently yielded under fingers.
The silence in the hallway was heavy, almost palpable, as if the air had stopped circulating. Everything was so quiet that even the smallest sound stood out. Then, suddenly, the door at the end of the hallway slowly opened, emitting a faint click that echoed through the empty walls, breaking the tension hanging in the air.
I watched closely, behind the glass, as Emily appeared before the visitors. Her white coat, impeccably clean, swayed with determined firmness at every sure step she took through the room.
The soft glow of the lighting reflected off the fabric’s surface, highlighting her confident posture. It seemed like, as she entered, she was lost in some deep thought, but that expression suddenly changed — as if her focus vanished the exact moment her eyes met mine.
I couldn’t figure out what was going on in her mind, but her face looked thoughtful. She stayed silently watching me for a long moment, motionless, as if time around us had slowed down.
Gradually, though, her expression softened, and the intense gleam in her eyes gave way to a calm serenity. With a barely noticeable, slight sigh, she averted her gaze, quietly turning her attention back to the rest of the group.
“She’s breathing, I can confirm that...” Emily said in a calm, controlled tone, but her voice carried an unshakable firmness that left no room for doubt: “Even though she doesn’t have any recognizable internal organs that could explain this function, the airflow is real and constant”
The visitors instinctively made space, driven by a mix of curiosity and apprehension. Stepping forward confidently, Emily positioned herself elegantly, clasping her hands behind her back before speaking, her clear, controlled voice softly echoing through the silent room: “The humanoid appearance is just a superficial layer”
She began, staring seriously at everyone present: “He has no bones. Nor internal organs like ours. His entire body is made up of a gelatinous substance of still unknown origin, but surprisingly able to maintain a stable form purely by willpower”
She paused briefly, letting the words settle as all eyes slowly turned toward the figure in front of them. A subtle tension hung in the air. Absolute silence. The gray-haired woman took a cautious step back, as if the mere presence of the being on the other side of the glass gave her chills.
Noticing the gesture, Emily kept her gaze fixed on the observer, and with a slight smile at the corner of her lips, she continued: “We still don’t know exactly why she took on a human form... but I can assure you her mind is as sharp as any of ours”
The scruffy-looking man, with half-closed eyes and a hoarse voice that sounded like it had carried more sleepless nights than answers, finally broke the silence. His question came out dry, almost harsh, as if he feared his own curiosity: “Does she understand us?”
Emily paused, as if carefully choosing her next words. Her eyes narrowed slightly, gaining a more serious and penetrating look. When she finally answered, her voice came out low, almost solemn: “Yes. She understands everything”
Another visitor, a restless young man, stepped forward hesitantly before asking in a nearly trembling voice: “Is she... dangerous?”
Emily looked away toward the glass, her expression turning more serious, almost somber: “Ah... She can become dangerous. Unimaginably dangerous” Her voice carried a silent weight: “But she isn’t. At least, not unless someone gives her a reason”
The tension in the air thickened, heavy like invisible smoke ready to choke anyone who breathed too deeply. It was the kind of answer that, though technically true, offered no relief — only more questions. I remained still, eyes fixed on them, in complete silence.
A dense, almost aggressive silence. On the other side, their gazes didn’t waver. They watched me with a mix of fascination and fear, as if expecting my body to dissolve into a shapeless mass and pass through the glass at any moment.
Noticing their reaction, Emily let out a low, brief laugh, almost like an amused whisper, before saying calmly: “Seriously, you don’t need to worry about her. As incredible as it seems, she’s extremely gentle with humans”
Hearing Emily’s words, most visitors exchanged subtle glances, as if sharing a silent conversation full of curiosity and hesitation. Behind the glass, I carefully observed every gesture and expression, following the slight movements of their eyebrows and the nervous clinking of restless hands.
Emily, with a calm and confident smile, began leading them onward: “By the way, we allow anyone who wants to interact more personally with these specific anomalies to enter. Of course, I’ll personally accompany anyone who wants to come in”
The group didn’t respond immediately — they just continued watching me silently, their eyes fixed and inquisitive, as if trying to decode every inch of my existence. The atmosphere seemed to thicken with every second, their muffled breathing blending with the almost imperceptible hum of the room in the background.
Then, an unexpected question broke the silence, loaded with curiosity and caution: “By the way... is that appearance considered normal?”
Hearing the question, Emily briefly glanced in my direction. Her expression became thoughtful, as if carefully choosing the right words before answering.
For a few seconds, silence hung in the air, heavy with uncertainty. Then, with a calm voice, she finally said: “I can’t give a conclusive answer on that right now. The truth is, until a few months ago, she didn’t have any of these characteristics. Her appearance resembled that of a child about ten years old... In other words, aside from the physical aspect, she wasn’t much different from an ordinary child”
The room sank again into a dense, awkward silence. For a moment, it seemed everyone was searching in vain for an appropriate response to Emily’s words. Glances met nervously, but no voice rose. In the end, as if an unspoken consensus had been reached, everyone just remained quiet.
Then their gazes started scanning the surrounding environment, scrutinizing every corner carefully. That’s when they finally noticed my sisters. At first, curiosity arose — their eyes lingered on them, examining every detail: their features, subtle movements, gestures, and even how they positioned themselves.
It was as if they were trying to understand something beyond appearances, attempting to decipher exactly what they were seeing. But soon after, surprise took over. The group’s eyes widened almost in unison, as if an unexpected truth had just revealed itself before them.
The first voice to speak was a man with a somewhat well-groomed appearance. His dark hair was slicked back with some effort, though a few stubborn strands still fell over his forehead. He wore slightly wrinkled formal clothes, as if he’d dressed in a hurry.
With a hesitant look, his eyes scanned the figure before him before he furrowed his brow slightly: “A... demon?” he murmured, as if still trying to convince himself that what he was seeing was real.