‘Roosevelt’, ‘Roses’ or ‘male Lilies’. They are part of the super soldier program.

  Their “production” started at the same time as the ‘Lilies’.

  Both of them were treated equally well during Generation Zero, but afterwards, hell awaited them. The ‘Roses’ arguably have an easier “education”.

  There are numerous minor differences between them. For example, the physical properties of the different genders is one of them.

  ‘Roses’ have more muscles and, as a result, less training is required in that department. However, they are given more exercises to improve the flexibility of their bodies.

  The ‘Lilies’ are opposite. They possess superior agility but weaker muscles. Their program includes more physical training.

  On the major side is the way they are treated as beings – both are seen as tools, as objects, but…

  The success rate is different. In all Generations thus far, there have been more “graduated” ‘Roses’. Sometimes, the ‘Roses’ are twice the number of ‘Lilies’.

  That is why they are also addressed as ‘Roosevelt’ – rose field. Compared to the ‘Lilies’, there are many of them. Enough to make a “field”, whatever that means.

  Their purpose was mainly for the military. The best of them even became part of the special forces or have the honour of directly serving under the Monarch.

  A relatively small number of hand-picked ‘Roses’ live in luxury as the bodyguards of high-ranking aristocrats. Unlike the ‘Lilies’, they serve only one purpose – protection.

  Only male aristocrats are permitted to have a ‘Rose’ as a bodyguard. The men fear that spending time alone with a good-looking male might make the female inclined to mate. Even more so, if the husband often flirts and cheats with other women or the daughter is at an age where she acts impulsively, driven by her emotions or whims rather than common sense.

  They are better than ‘Lilies’ in that regard. ‘Lilies’ could be just gifts for a male. That was a part of their training. The worst cruelty ‘Lilies’ had to endure… the ‘Roses’ never experienced it.

  Luckily, that practice, the “exhibition”, became a way for aristocrats to see the combat prowess of different individuals in training, rather than the ‘Lilies’ prowess in bed.

  Now, both ‘Roses’ and ‘Lilies’ take part in the “exhibition”. It’s the first time they see and interact with one another.

  This change occurred a few years ago, when the nobility realised the numerous benefits these super soldiers had brought to our country.

  Sadly, my ‘Lily’ was in a too young generation to experience this good modification.

  In recent years, a percentage of the ‘Roses’ and ‘Fire/Flame Lilies’ have been allowed and encouraged to breed with one another in an attempt to give birth to a superior breed. A breed that should make one of the finest subjects to be used in the training grounds.

  Such ‘Lilies’ are given great care while pregnant, but experience motherhood for a mere six months after the labour until their child is taken into the Project. The father never gets to see the child.

  They would never know if their child survived and graduated or what it looked like.

  The same ‘Lily’ would need to regain her battle form before being allowed to get pregnant again, often by a different ‘Rose’.

  The ‘Lily’ is not always permitted to refuse. Especially if it’s the ‘Flame Lily’.

  There are already a few such children.

  Most ‘Roses’ attend training to become ‘Black Roses’, but even if they couldn’t achieve it, they were an important military asset to our country.

  However, ‘Lilies’ are the superior among the two.

  Sure, a ‘Rose’ might endure a beating, but a ‘Lily’, with her agile movements, would evade the hits entirely.

  When a ‘Lily’ and a ‘Rose’ with similar training are put to fight one-on-one, the ‘Lily’ wins two out of three matches at a minimum.

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  In a special unit, consisting of ‘Lilies’ and ‘Roses’, the leader is often a ‘Lily’.

  I have met with a few ‘Roses’, but they often stayed at the side, being a symbol of one’s importance.

  The only ‘Rose’ I had interacted… He was the bodyguard of a high-ranking aristocrat who supported the project.

  How cruel the fate could be. His master died before him. For a loyal servant like him, it was a fate worse than death.

  He was free to do whatever he wanted. He could have escaped and taken a new identity! He could have begun his life anew as a free person, not as a tool!

  But he decided to stick with his master’s mission, respecting and finishing his late master’s final endeavour.

  Now, here he is, on the ground. Most limbs severed. Unmoving. In red. Unrecognizable. With the person whom he loved giving him a last farewell, barely holding back emotions she didn’t understand.

  How cruel.

  Yet, it may be said that the creators of this program were crueller.

  My dear late mother and my doting father. From commoners who were at the bottom of the social hierarchy, they managed to secure a place for themselves in the upper echelons. Very few were above them.

  No matter how much I enjoyed the privilege of being their daughter, no matter how much love they gave me, I still hated what they did. After all, my dear mother died because she tried to protect them!

  How can I not hate them? Both the ‘Roses’ and ‘Lilies’ were unwanted! Why did they have to take my mother away?! The mother who wanted me, from me?! I wasn’t like them, unloved and kindness unknown to me!

  It’s not cruel to live a life without knowing the beauty of the world – it’s cruel to live, knowing it exists but never seeing it!

  My goal became to destroy my late mother’s work. The same work my father took upon himself after her passing. After he shattered my happy childhood and family…

  I knew it was wrong of me. I knew it would be hard. I knew I was trampling on my parents’ legacy…

  I knew that even if I did all that, my mother wouldn’t be here with me.

  And yet! I couldn’t make my anger go away otherwise. I had to blame someone. And so, I did. I blamed him, the nobles, the society and the subjects who were treated as objects. I needed to hate something, anything!

  They, ‘Lilies’ and ‘Roses’, became the main object of my resentment.

  When I was 15 years old, I took part in an “exhibition”.

  It took me a while to convince my father to go, but he ultimately gave in.

  I watched them, the ones who stole my mother. They lacked emotions. They were just dolls that did whatever they were told.

  I decided to “play” with one. Most were already taken and experiencing mating. It should have been easy to take one of the ones who were left.

  I chose one whom I found pretty. I vividly remember our first encounter.

  She looked confused, worried, yet steadily obeying orders.

  I saw how pretty she was. If she had put on a smile, she would have been the first one to be taken, having the aristocrats fight for her!

  Her small yet fit body, characteristic of a developing young woman, was well emphasised by her royal blue dress.

  Her skin was quite good, but on closer inspection, she had numerous wounds that were yet to heal.

  To get her, I had to argue with a lower-ranked noble. It was a gamble, but in the end, I took her with me.

  Then I bullied her by showing her what a “normal” life could be. Her reactions were hard to read.

  Did she enjoy it? Or dislike it? Felt discomfort? Happiness? Sadness? I couldn’t read her at all! How strange.

  It got me curious. How could she be so robotic?

  I wanted to know more about her, about her life, daily routine and so on.

  So, I had her stay with me for the night.

  Although I had some knowledge about their training, I was shocked by what I heard. I even felt pity for them for the first time.

  I later decided to get her as my bodyguard if she graduated. My family became her “supporter”. She shouldn’t be bullied too much after that.

  During her continued education, I was trying to start my revenge from somewhere.

  When I looked at myself in the mirror, I could see beauty and a relatively well-developed woman’s body for my age. The same beauty as my mother’s.

  The men would be all over me in a few years. I just needed to play pure and be pure, keeping my appearance neat and sexy.

  Many were trying to get me into bed. Too bad I didn’t feel like it. Bad for them, I mean.

  If they were useless to me, why should I allow them to have my body?

  Then, I wasn’t ready to use my body as a bargaining chip, but after years of no progress, I started to utilise it…

  When I managed to get my bodyguard, she helped me deal with those annoying suitors who benefited me in no way.

  I was also becoming close to her without knowing. At some point, she made me consider whether my actions were correct.

  Deep down, I know I’m in the wrong. But how could I stop? If I were to stop, would I have a reason to live?

  When I finally found someone useful, he was part of the group that supported the Project.

  With him by my side, the best I could do was influence their training, reshape the project in a certain way.

  But that wasn’t my goal. And with Lily by my side, I was wavering in my ready-to-do-all attitude I initially possessed.

  After all, wasn’t she my best friend? Wasn’t she just a victim like me herself? How cruel I myself was?

  How could I blame an innocent child who knew nothing? A child who had nothing to do with my mother’s death? A child whose entire existence was pure suffering?

  I needed time to think about all that. I needed time to think and find a better meaning in my life than fruitless revenge.

  I wavered in my resolve and constantly found excuses for myself about searching for ways to end the project.

  Even now, I’m uncertain and I need more time!

  I never managed to learn much about the ‘Roses’ and the humans in them. My only such friend just died in front of my eyes.

  Why is my heart shattered? Didn’t I hate them? Why is his death so painful to me?

  Why didn’t you protect him, Raven? I know you are hiding your power. I know that pushing you too hard will cost me my life. I know your temporary goal is to protect me and only me.

  I know I should keep my mouth shut… But why won’t I stop blaming you?

  Just how much am I lying to myself?