Night falls heavily over the conservation area, a thick blanket of quiet broken only by the slow, sweeping lights of the patrol team.
In the tent behind the medical station, a pot steams on a small stove. Wisps of vapor curl upwards, condensing on the spiderweb overhead into trembling droplets that hang, poised to fall.
At the heart of the tent, settled deep within her carefully woven nest, the nurturer sits. From this center, she senses everything in this world.
Now let's cut the fruit... Look, doesn't this oval shape look just like a little lamb's head?
Hmm...
...And these four little rectangles, don't they look like the little lamb's legs?
Finally, we place the bread in the middle...
Wow... it's a little lamb!
By now... the "meeting" should be over.
Those two refugees who escaped from Conservation Area 375... after they woke up...
That's enough. Let's call it a day.
It's over.
The meeting is over. That's all for today. It's already past office hours.
But now it's past office hours.
Leaving no room for debate, the conservation area supervisor begins ushering people firmly from the room.
I'm sure your families are waiting for you at home, probably with dinner ready. We're done here.
No more discussion.
And so, the utterly bewildered commandant is unceremoniously sent home.
Hmm... that's better. A true "happy dinner" requires the whole family to be gathered.
The silken web trembles, gently smoothing away the "anomaly" the human commandant has sensed. By the time the commandant reaches the front door, the subconscious has already been seamlessly rewoven.
You're back... Welcome home. You've had a long day, haven't you?
Can we eat the little lamb now?!
Of course, sweetie. Dinner's ready...
The door closes gently behind them, sealing the scene.
This is an almost perfect nest. A safe, warm haven designed to nurture a child.
It provides not only ample sustenance but also two...
Melinoe carefully peers through the window, bathed in the warm, golden light from within.
Liv ladles steaming gruel from a pot.
Aisling... the child is engrossed in a shadow puppet game with the newly returned commandant—the kind of simple, profound play only humans truly understand.
But also two family members... who can give her "human" love.
This... is perfect.
Withdrawing her consciousness back to its core, Melinoe slowly opens her eyes.
Understanding the human mind is a fundamental skill for a psychologist. But crafting worlds that ensnare others in blissful delusion? That is a far more advanced art.
What makes Melinoe special is the paradox at her very core: her unique power allows her to master the latter, while that very same nature prevents her from ever truly comprehending the former.
After that, a series of medical incidents related to the "Psychologist Generation II" occurred in rapid succession. It wasn't until the authorities dismantled several units that they uncovered the base logic behind their operations...
Melinoe lets out a deep sigh.
When extraction proved insufficient... the "emotion consumption" protocol would engage. It would... directly devour the neural activity in those wavelengths.
Once these signals of neural activity are devoured, the emotions they govern briefly vanish from the human experience.
But it doesn't matter... There are other ways to achieve the same end.
First, in reality, she has engineered a minor incident—the kind they face routinely—to forcibly separate the pair. It's a simple, reliable way to put them on edge.
Then, within the second layer, she has seeded obvious anomalies. A little clumsy foreshadowing here, a bit of deliberately poor acting there—all carefully framed to lead them to one inevitable conclusion:
"We've fallen into a trap."
Finally... she has revealed the deliberately placed crack in the illusion itself.
Then, they will shatter the mirror, reunite, and stay with me!
That's right.
Melinoe's gaze pierces through the void, settling on the small figure standing between the pair.
A skilled hunter never allows prey to escape her web; she always prepares contingencies.
She can reconnect with the Church of Machina for her child.
She can also hunt a Construct from Babylonia for her child.
She will give the child what she wants, no matter what that might be.
Adjusting her clothes and lifting the pot from the stove, Melinoe leaves the tent. The stage is set. Now, it's time to play her part.
She gently knocks on the door to the place called home.
...Melinoe? What brings you here at this hour...?
I made some hot soup. I thought you might like some.
Perfect timing, we were just about to eat. Come in and join us.
The door to "home" swings open, welcoming her inside.
The room is clean and tidy, a human coat draped casually over the coat rack. At the dining table, steam rises from freshly served bowls. The gentle murmur of conversation between adults and a child drifts on the evening air.
So, what's a "grassland"?
The two of them browse through colorful images on the terminal.
Hmm, I've never seen a grassland before.
If we ever get the chance, we could go see one together... Alright, time to eat.
The clinking of bowls and plates creates a harmonious symphony. Melinoe lowers her gaze.
She, too, is almost losing herself in the peace of this life.
But... she mustn't allow herself to.
Time to eat!
Can we eat the little lamb now?!
The innocent child rushes to the table, excitedly examining the fruit platter she and Liv prepared together.
All right, everyone! Let's eat!
After patiently guiding the child to wash her hands, Liv helps her settle into her chair.
Well then, thank you for having me...
A warm, gentle smile graces Melinoe's lips.
She is both an exceptional psychologist and the most patient of hunters. For her child's sake, she has tirelessly woven her web, waiting with infinite patience for her prey to finally arrive.
If the child desires it, and if Melinoe has it, she will hold back nothing.
The clock hands spin with a languid purpose, as if time itself has crystallized in the amber of this long autumn.
Here, the people live by the sun's rhythm, working from dawn till dusk. News of Hetero-Creature attacks on other conservation areas feels like distant thunder, a worry for others. Only the handful of refugees who have fled here for sanctuary watch the horizon with uneasy eyes.
For them, Conservation Area 368 is more than a home; it is a hidden paradise, nestled safely in the mountain's deep embrace. Until that day.
On an afternoon no different from any other, the Hetero-Creatures surge from the mining area without warning.
...Hetero-Creatures? But we have a filter... Is it not working?
At the news of the Hetero-Creatures, Liv's grip loosens, and her research papers scatter across the floor.
We don't know. The system shows it's operational, but... they've already breached the outer perimeter...
Alright, let's stay calm... What's the current situation?
The patrol team has set up a defensive line under [player name]'s command, but we don't know how long it can last...
...
I'll go check the filter.
The Central Purification Filter is completely functional.
Though Liv doesn't understand why she recognizes its internal architecture, she can state with absolute certainty that the unit before her is intact. Its core is stable; every component is operating within nominal parameters.
From her vantage point atop the filter, Liv watches in horror as Hetero-Creatures hurl themselves against the patrol team's defensive line. Even with [player name]'s seasoned combat expertise bolstering their ranks, their firepower is being overwhelmed...
Fall back! Everyone, fall back to the conservation area now! We can't hold this line!
But the patrol team... they're still out there!
Liv rushes forward, and her body reacts with a soldier's instinct, a Construct's ingrained training. Her eyes widen in shock. How can she, a mere human, possess such a thing?
There's no time! Seal the gates—
Hey! Liv!
Like a white bird taking flight, Liv slips through the gates and darts toward the distant battlefield.
[player name]—!
She nimbly dives behind a barrier, screaming that name.
Blood and fire flood her vision. Soldiers roar; the wounded shriek. In the ensuing chaos, long-buried memories surge—not from her mind, but from the scorched depths of her M.I.N.D.
...Ugh... agh...
Stay calm. Don't give up yet.
Why... are you out here alone...?
Everyone else has pulled back. I'm here to take you all back.
Your leg is fractured... Please, try not to move. Let me take care of this for you.
Hetero-Creatures howl across the abandoned battlefield.
[player name]—!
Again and again, she calls out that one precious name, tending to every wounded soldier she finds.
She has saved many lives...
Please don't forget to apply direct pressure to the wound for the next thirty seconds.
Stay strong. Someone is waiting for you to come home.
She crawls forward, keenly searching for any sign of life in sight.
Yet... the one life that matters most remains lost to her...
[player name]—!
Driven by desperation, she rises from her cover, risking detection. She stares toward the horizon—
A blinding light floods her vision. All the faces around her blur and run together like an absurd dream.
How...
Her visual module glitches, its focus shuddering in and out before snapping back to clarity.
[player name]!!
There, on the very front line, the human commandant lies fallen, fate a terrifying unknown.
Several Hetero-Creatures advance slowly toward the unconscious human. From behind her cover, Liv's trembling fingers close around the cold grip of a handgun.
Should this feel familiar? Should she know how to aim, how to kill?
Fragments of memory collide, merging into a vast, chaotic nebula of thoughts.
Bang—!
Liv pulls the trigger, and the Hetero-Creature crumples to the ground.
...Medic, look out!
At some point, the soldiers she rescued have formed up behind her, their coordinated gunfire now weaving a protective perimeter around her.
[player name]... Commandant!
Navigating through the chaos, she races toward her Commandant without a moment's hesitation.
The Hetero-Creatures' assault subsides, and the conservation area slowly reopens its gates.
With the rescued wounded in tow, Liv carries the unconscious commandant on her back to the sanctuary of their home.
Inside, Liv dampens a handkerchief and gently presses it to the human's forehead. The cool cloth does nothing to soothe the searing words burning in her mind.
...The neural pathways are damaged. Waking up... would be nearly impossible.
The conservation area's only doctor puts away the diagnostic device.
I'm sorry... Liv.
...
...What happened to [player name]?
Why can't [player name] play with me?
Aisling walks in and leans over the bedside, looking up at Liv with wide, bewildered eyes.
...Because [player name] is tired and needs to rest for a while.
Liv's fingers tremble slightly as she tends to the unconscious human's wounds with gentle, practiced care.
It's red... It's blood.
Yes. [player name] got hurt, while protecting our home.
When will [player name] be done resting?
Soon... very soon.
Liv lowers her gaze, burying the surge of emotion deep behind her calm eyes.
Everything will be alright.
Everything will be.
The Hetero-Creature attack came without warning, a sudden nightmare that's brief yet terrifyingly real.
The only evidence left is blood staining the conservation area's perimeter; the creatures vanished as mysteriously as they appeared.
The remaining patrol members scoured the mining area and found nothing.
No one knows where they came from, or where they went.
Day 7 since the battle ended.
Liv pushes the window open, and fresh air floods the room, cutting through the thick scent of medicine.
The weather is lovely today. With all this fresh air, I'm sure you'll feel more comfortable, Commandant.
After a routine check of the life support equipment, she replaces the flowers in the bedside vase.
Alright. Don't worry about anything and just rest for now.
Everything will be alright... I promise you.
She takes your hands in hers, presses them gently against her cheek, and places a soft kiss upon them.
The bed is carefully arranged for comfort, but the human does not stir, still locked in a deep slumber.
