The hurricane devours all emptiness as Liv's voice resonates through the entire space.
Yet that unyielding will meets no resistance. Instead, a gentle stream of soft white light answers its call.
It envelops Liv's consciousness with a warm tenderness, like waves gently yielding to the evening breeze. All her fierce emotions quietly dissolve, fading before they can ever find an echo.
...
Liv slowly closes her eyes.
The world begins with a lingering sigh.
Spring buds awaken; the summer sun warms; autumn air chills; deep winter snow comforts.
The seasons cycle in a silent, seamless procession.
Coming to her senses, Liv slowly opens her eyes, feeling dazed for a moment before rubbing them.
...
Her thoughts remain hazy. It feels as though she has surfaced from a very long dream, a trace of moisture still lingering at the corners of her eyes.
The bizarre, kaleidoscopic dreamscapes recede as clarity returns, leaving only shadowy impressions behind. No matter how hard she tries, she cannot grasp a single detail.
...Am I just tired?
She blinks, a profound fatigue still nestled deep within her limbs.
Knock, knock—
A gentle knock at the door pulls Liv from her thoughts. As she opens it, sunlight floods the room, bathing everything in a brilliant, golden glow.
...Mom!
...Mom?
The title escapes her lips in a daze as the mist clouding her memories begins to dissolve.
Mom, look! I found lots of fruits again today!
The little girl eagerly holds up a basket brimming with bright red fruits, her face alight with pride.
...That's wonderful, Aisling. But you must promise me to stay away from the mining area, okay?
A tender smile touches Liv's lips as she takes the basket, its size comically large in the little girl's small hands.
Alright, go wash your hands now. Lunch will be ready soon.
Alright!
Excitement and happiness flush the little girl's cheeks. She nods vigorously and dashes toward the sink.
Mom, are we having those sandwiches you promised yesterday?
Sandwiches...
Her nod is almost instinctual as she turns toward the cupboard. Inside, the bread, vegetables, and lunch meat are already neatly arranged, just as they were "yesterday."
Of course we are, sweetie. I promised you yesterday, didn't I?
From the cupboard, her gaze sweeps over this modest little house, mentally tracing every object in sight.
She remembers the bookshelf over there.
Its shelves are stacked with fairy tales her mother once read to her, nestled alongside the medical texts her father used to study.
All wounded creatures were sent to Eden to heal. Once recovered, the maiden returned them to the mortal world.
She was a deity of this realm, an "angel" to all living things...
Her childhood was steeped in love, a foundation that let her grow in peace.
She remembers the medal of honor on the shelf.
When the Punishing Virus erupted and Babylonia ascended into space, she joined the military with her parents' support, becoming a field medic.
Why the rush...? Can't we wait for the other soldiers to retreat first? We tried so hard to save them...
What's the point of this war...? Did I really save those lives...?
She earned the medal the day she disobeyed a direct retreat order, choosing instead to pull thirty-five wounded soldiers from a single, hellish battle.
She remembers the desk buried under stacks of research materials and academic papers.
The injuries from that battle had grounded her, making a frontline medic's post untenable.
So, she channeled that same resolve into a new purpose, pursuing a degree in Construct Medical Science and joining the Star of Life as a Construct.
And then...
The war was over.
These four simple words effortlessly summarize years of suffering.
The crimson Punishing Virus, the endless battlefronts, the freezing winds, the relentless combat—
All of it was eventually confined to the pages of history books, concluded by the final period of the last combat report.
With the Punishing Virus effectively contained, humanity began its long-awaited return to Earth. To their home.
And by her own choice, Liv returned too—accompanied by a commandant—and settled down in this conservation area, a place graced with vast, untamed fields of flowers...
Click—
The sound of a key turning in the lock snaps Liv from her memories. She looks up abruptly, a wave of involuntary joy lifting her heart. She turns toward the door, a smile already gracing her lips—
[player name]!
The child jumps with excitement, rushing to join Liv in welcoming the returning figure.
The syllable catches in your throat. It's as if your mind has been frozen solid, locked in rust, and is only now, haltingly, beginning to turn again.
Who are you? Where are you... What are you... doing right now?
The confusion surges, a swift and dizzying tide, but it just as quickly recedes, washed away by the welcoming voices near your ears.
Welcome back.
Welcome home!
Oh... they are...
They are your family, the people you live with.
Sunlight floods the modest room, filling it with a palpable warmth. On the table sits a vase of white roses, brought home by you just yesterday. The scent of fresh bread and steaming soup rises to meet you, a comforting aroma of grains and home.
This is... your home.
This is the one you love, your... wife.
Sunlight floods the modest room, filling it with a palpable warmth. On the table sits a vase of white roses, brought home by you just yesterday. The scent of fresh bread and steaming soup rises to meet you, a comforting aroma of grains and home.
This is... your home.
...Honey?
Though memory insists you have called each other by such endearments for a long time, the word still kindles a shyness on her lips and a flush of color across her cheeks.
Everything before you seems so perfect, so happy. And yet, a dissonant note hums deep within you.
Before you can grasp it, a voice from the depths of your consciousness offers a gentle reminder:
Don't bring your work troubles back home. That's not good.
Ah... yes. That's not good...
Welcome hooome!
That subtle unease dissolves as the child rushes into your arms, her small, warm body a perfect anchor.
I picked lots of wild fruits again today!
Lots, lots of them!
She stretches her little arms wide, trying to form a circle as big as possible.
Alright, come wash your hands. Lunch's almost ready.
A gentle breeze stirs the white curtains, and the afternoon sun bathes the dining table in a golden glow—the perfect scene for a casual chat.
You left so early this morning. Is everything alright at the conservation area?
Your memories gradually piece themselves together with each question.
After retiring from Babylonia, you and Liv chose to settle in this conservation area, where you were assigned the role of patrol captain.
Again...? Even the new filter isn't working?
Liv furrows her brow with worry.
As the logic settles into place in your mind, the ensuing conversation begins to flow more naturally.
Refugees...? Has it really gotten that bad?
And Area 375 is so close to us... Do we know anything else?
The World Government has yet to issue any response to the situation. It is unclear whether this is due to being overextended by a widespread Punishing Virus outbreak or another unknown factor.
The patrol team received a situational update from the supervisor this morning. You have been directed to increase your patrol frequency and implement night shifts.
That is quite worrying.
Liv's gaze settles on Aisling, who sits quietly to the side, obediently eating her bread with a fork. A soft sigh escapes Liv's lips.
...Yeah.
Liv still looks worried.
...You're right, Comman...
Why does she feel compelled to call [player name] "Commandant"? The person retired long ago...
Yet, the title is etched into her mind, indelible and persistent.
Shoving the dissonance aside, Liv presses her lips together and forces a smile.
You're right. Why worry about tomorrow's troubles when we still have today's sunshine?
And we still have our residence rights on Babylonia, if it comes to that.
If things get dangerous, we could send Aisling back to Babylonia first. She'd be safe there, at least.
I'll be here, of course. Protecting our home, right alongside you. I am a decorated lieutenant, you know. Don't you forget it.
Oh, stop that.
A full thirty minutes slips by, measured only by the wall clock's silent sweep.
Well, it's getting late. I should get back to that project Star of Life assigned me...
So... I'll see you later?
Even now, after all this time, the term of endearment sends a flush of warmth to the tips of Liv's ears.
With a shy smile, she quickens her pace to catch up, returning a gentle embrace.
See you tonight... honey.
Afternoon work hours always feel paradoxically long, yet the time slips away all the same.
Liv sits at her desk, analyzing a batch of files transmitted from the Star of Life by Professor Hippocrates.
Their new joint research project aims to deconstruct and analyze Construct M.I.N.D., optimizing its fundamental operational structures.
The professor seems to have acquired significant new data. Liv is carefully cross-referencing the information, absorbed in dissecting the complex contents, when suddenly...
...Mom?
The little girl, clutching a jar of candy, tugs gently at Liv's clothes.
Aisling? What is it?
Liv pulls her chair back and lifts Aisling onto her lap—a gesture that echoes a comforting memory from her own childhood.
I want... candy...
She points insistently at the jar. No child could resist the colorful, translucent treasures inside.
Just one piece today, okay? Too many will make you sick.
With a deft twist, Liv opens the lid, and Aisling carefully selects her favorite color. A triumphant cheer escapes her as she secures the prize, and then she dashes from the room, holding the candy aloft.
Careful, don't run so fast...
As the child runs toward the central plaza, Liv settles back into her seat, immersing herself once more in the terminal's data stream.
That's when she finds it: a tiny variable hidden deep within the dataset. It isn't a value, but something more nebulous. A hypothesis, or perhaps a new possibility altogether.
Her thoughts drift to the nature of the M.I.N.D.—the complex region that houses a Construct's consciousness, with memories stored in countless intricate forms...
A sudden realization hits her. How does she know the M.I.N.D.'s internal structure in such detail...? Isn't she a human...?
Before she can trace the source of this unsettling discrepancy, a small hand tugs at her hem again. Aisling is back.
Mom, I want more candy.
The child looks up, seemingly confident that her mother won't refuse such a request.
Oh, Aisling, no more candy today.
Liv crouches down to meet the child's gaze.
But I want it...
You've already had one piece today. Any more, and you might get sick.
I won't get sick...
I know you think that, but our bodies have their own rules, sweetie.
Liv pats her head gently.
Think of your tummy like a little house. It only has room for one candy, one sandwich, and one bowl of gruel at a time.
You've already had one piece of candy and one sandwich today. If we put a second candy in there, the first candy will get upset. They might even start fighting in your little house, Aisling.
Hmm...
And if the candy takes up all the space, the dinner gruel won't have anywhere to go.
Is... is that so...?
Aisling stares at Liv with childlike bewilderment.
But Melinoe always used to give me more...
It's not good to ask for things without restraint, Aisling.
Whether it's Melinoe or the supervisor, you shouldn't ask for candy without restraint.
What does... "restraint" mean?
Restraint means "self-control." A good child should learn to control their desires. It's part of growing up healthy and strong.
Well...
Noticing Aisling's lingering confusion, Liv checks her terminal. It's already six.
Would you like to help me make a fruit platter with those wild fruits you collected today?
We can make it look like a little lamb and share it with everyone at dinner. How does that sound?
...A fruit platter!
The child's attention is clearly captured by this new, exciting activity.
Let's go.
Liv smiles, shuts her terminal, and takes Aisling's hand as they leave the small study together.
Night falls, and the lights begin to twinkle like a scattered constellation. From the small kitchen window, a warm, inviting glow spills into the dusk.
It has never been denied anything.
Usually, it merely has to ask, or rather, it doesn't even need to do that. Its nurturer readily offers everything she has, an endless wellspring of devotion.
It has drawn endless darkness from its nurturer.
It knows the metallic, bloody taste of pain;
it knows the gritty, salt-and-sand texture of sorrow.
It has extracted all suffering from its nurturer's M.I.N.D., feasting on the despair. Yet, there was one thing it had never understood...
Candy is "sweet."
Its sense of taste awakened as if for the first time. A rich, golden sweetness—like distilled autumn—bloomed and rolled across its tongue.
It devoured the sensation with a near-violent greed; it never knew the world could hold such vibrant colors.
And then... its request was denied.
Bewildered, it didn't know what reaction to "fabricate." It could only repeat its demand in confusion.
It was denied, and yet... it somehow gained more.
The wild fruits have a more "fragrant" quality than candy.
It's an essence difficult to capture in words, encompassing a crisp texture, a slight tartness, and a more layered aroma.
It loses itself in Liv's M.I.N.D., reading the colors of flowers and inhaling the scent of damp soil.
Is it time?
A distant whisper trembles through the net.
Perhaps... it is time.
It answers its own question.
She will be mine... She will obey me. She will belong to me.
She is the "mother" I have chosen.
I will make her... and her M.I.N.D. truly mine.
Why her M.I.N.D...?
Why... Hmm, why indeed?
Ah, never mind. It doesn't matter. I want it, and it should be mine.
The fragmented whispers gradually fade, swallowed by the starry void.
