The night in Gestrig brings a dry, cool breeze that brushes against the face as leafy shadows sway in the wind.
A stern-faced woman walks along a small path between flower beds. Even without streetlights, the luminescent chrysanthemums provide enough light to illuminate her way—
—an offshoot cultivated from daisies, named for their ethereal luminescence during their blooming period.
She continues walking forward when a snow-white lab coat comes into view. A young girl crouches in the center of the flower bed, gently turning the soil with her fingers.
...Dr. Saotome.
Noticing the woman's approach, the girl in the lab coat rises and bows—Martha understands she is signaling for her to come no closer.
But Martha walks forward anyway, advancing all the way to the flower bed Yui is tending.
How have things been going lately?
...I selected quality parent plants from the previous batch of luminescent chrysanthemums for cultivation. This batch has a noticeably brighter fluorescence... though some have withered, unfortunately.
I checked the condition of the flower bed, the humidity is too low and the daytime sunlight is too intense... Has there been no rain in City 141 lately?
You know that's not what I'm asking about.
...
Horst has interfered with the Chosen One model.
...How did you find out...
Like you, Herta was also a student of mine who I sent out into the world.
...
I've heard that the Chosen One achieved remarkable ratings in tests two days ago, with metrics showing unprecedented results. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to call it the Matrix's most successful model to date.
There should be a celebration banquet going on right now.
...It's too stuffy in there.
Sensing that Martha has no intention of leaving, Yui hesitates for a few seconds before crouching down again to carefully examine the soil at the base of the flower stems.
But I've also heard something else as well.
They've kept you confined in the laboratory, forcing you to undergo consciousness sampling more than three times a day, while regular test subjects only experience it once every three days.
...They've added a low-temperature neural stabilizing solution to the chamber, which reduces the burden on neurons.
Her voice is thin and calm, as if she were describing some trivial matter that doesn't concern her at all.
Reduce the burden? So you can still personally adjust the parameters and code after experiments, even when your body and brain are already overloaded?
...The supervisor demands that the Chosen One model be transferred to other departments for collaborative optimization quickly. We can't just let them take it away.
Otherwise... it'll just be scrapped again.
The young woman lowers her gaze, fidgeting with the withered root of a fluorescent chrysanthemum. She crouches silently among the flower beds, her pupils reflecting endless numbness and emptiness.
What about you? Have you thought about your condition?
Martha's brow furrows deeply as she steps forward again, the edges of her cloak brushing against the fluorescent chrysanthemums bordering the flower bed.
The high-frequency pulse pressure is already causing emotional dysfunction, isn't it? If this continues, the next stage will be neural degeneration... Is that what you want?
...
Yui remains silent. The moonlight falls upon her bloodless face, reminding Martha of loose, unbound pages fluttering on a desk.
Pale, thin, easily slipping away at the slightest breeze. This was the impression her former student gave.
...
Martha exhales deeply.
When I found you in the ruins of Site 143, you barely reached my waist.
Cracked bones, fractures... ruptured internal organs, festering wounds still bleeding, and somehow, miraculously, you were still clinging to life.
Even after treatment, you'd struggle with all your might at the first sign of strength. You'd scream in terror, sometimes triggered by the smallest things.
You caused me a lot of trouble back then. But despite everything, you seemed more "human" to me back then than you do now.
She takes a deep breath, trying to relax her tense facial muscles, making an effort to soften her tone for her next words.
Please stop working on the Matrix Project, Yui.
Her throat rasps dryly as she speaks. The words, blunt and simple, come out not as a command, but as a plea.
Not as a superior, not as a teacher, but simply... because she can't bear watching the child she raised with her own hands continue such a cruel experiment, shaving away herself until nothing's left.
...
I apologize, teacher.
The same response as always.
A response whose answer she knew before even asking the question. Martha slowly exhales the stale air she'd been holding in her lungs.
...Didn't you want to stay at the academy and continue your research in botany before?
In the flower bed at their feet, the centers of luminous chrysanthemums bloom with tiny points of light glimmering against the night sky.
...I apologize, teacher.
What exactly happened... What did you see during the first consciousness sampling experiment?
...
The young woman falls silent again, continuing to work the soil in the flower bed. Her time here is limited, and she wants these luminous chrysanthemums to survive in this world a little longer.
...City 141 is now entering its dry season. The days are growing longer, but rainfall remains scarce.
Martha casually removes the cloak she wears at night, tosses it beside the flower bed, and slowly steps into the small area glowing with phosphorescence.
You cultivated these flowers with your own hands before. You should know them better than anyone... Yui.
Excessive light and insufficient humidity actually make the flower stamens glow brighter.
But they do that at the cost of their own lives. That brilliant glow is nothing but the final embers of their existence... You understand what I'm trying to say.
...
...I don't care.
Her voice blends with the floating dust and is carried away by the evening breeze. Martha doesn't quite catch what she says as she stands beside Yui, putting an arm around her to help her up from the ground.
If you're willing, I can still find a way to have you transferred back to the academy where you can care for them in person and help extend their lives.
The scope of company research isn't narrow. Although the academy's training system has always prioritized personnel needed for the Matrix Plan, in a world like ours, talented botanists are still in demand.
That won't be necessary, Martha.
She bends down and gently cradles the withered flowers in her palms.
I only come back occasionally to water them and loosen the soil, that's all.
...
Martha closes her eyes.
She knows Yui's personality well—once she resolves herself, she never looks back. But it's precisely because of this...
What did you see during the first consciousness sampling experiment?
That's not important.
Yui stands up, clasping her hands together, palms caked with soil. She gazes at the flower bed for a long while, as if trying to etch this scenery firmly into her memory.
The moment drags on until she lifts her gaze once more.
I appreciate your kindness, teacher.
But my current research... it's the only thing I want to do now.
She turns to face Martha, her expression detached as usual.
I should go now... Goodbye, teacher.
Martha watches as the pale figure dissolves into the night, letting out a soft sigh.
If you really didn't care... then why did you return to Gestrig, back to this garden?
<size=40>Why did I return to Gestrig?</size>
<size=40>Why did I return to this garden?</size>
Yui heard Martha's question, but she doesn't know how to answer it.
The terminal on the lab bench ticks rhythmically, like the breathing of a slumbering beast.
Her ears have long grown accustomed to the dense cloud of white noise. Yui flips through reports on the desk, but Martha's voice keeps echoing in her mind.
She clearly remembers her first visit to this matrix facility.
Back then, a younger Martha, already her teacher, slowly pushed a wheelchair as she guided Yui and other students to visit this area where they would serve in the future.
It was a space utterly unlike the surface world, incomparably pure and pristine.
Steel and cables formed blood vessels and veins, connecting countless server racks and disk arrays,
Researchers fed information and data into the Matrix, predetermined programs deriving predetermined results...
Back then, she couldn't remember anything, yet she was inexplicably drawn to this place.
Everything was so perfectly ordered - mechanical commands executing without deviating from their predetermined paths, never pausing due to unexpected circumstances.
Loops never terminate from exhaustion, and branches never jump to unexpected places because of human emotions.
"This is where I belong." —From that day forward, she set her research path on mechanical consciousness.
Though later, under Martha's inspiration, she began studying botany, she never abandoned it...
Light footsteps sound outside, followed by a polite knock on the research lab door, once, twice...
Herta?
Her train of thought comes to an abrupt halt.
Warm artificial light spills through the slowly opening door as Herta walks into the now-familiar laboratory.
Three, no, four puffballs. One scrambles across the lab bench, another chases after it, and the remaining two nestle in her arms.
Oh—and there's another one nuzzling against her leg.
(Friendly purring)
Good afternoon, Miss de Lévis. How was your lunch today?
I've finished.
Her tone remains characteristically indifferent as she sits with her back perfectly straight. Were it not for the cats nestled in her arms, she would appear very formal.
—Yet there's a small mountain of tomatoes she has picked out of her meal.
Here we go again. Whenever she has a moment to relax, she tells these transparently obvious lies.
Miss de Lévis, tomatoes are an important source of vitamins that promote cardiovascular health and aid in neuronal repair.
Do you remember your ECG and ultrasound reports? These were specifically added to your nutritional meals to help you during intervals between experiments...
Seeing Yui's completely impassive expression, Herta clears her throat.
Tomatoes can be consumed in different ways. Perhaps... you would prefer tomato soup?
As if compromising to avoid the gooey tomato soup, Yui reluctantly eats a slice of tomato.
Herta sighs with relief. Noticing that V is still rubbing against her feet, she gently picks V up.
The test meeting earlier... were there any results?
As the "test subject," Yui cannot participate in model testing meetings. Only Herta, who serves as the "researcher's assistant," can attend them.
...The researcher in charge of testing told me that the Chosen One is already the most advanced model, but...
But?
It didn't pass the stress test.
...This wasn't included in the previous regulations.
Yes. It's a new test set they've added, simulating traumatic scenarios like war, disease, and bereavement to observe how the model reacts under extreme conditions.
Why wasn't I told about this sooner?
The supervisor deliberately kept this from us. I only just found out myself.
Anyway, could this be the result of overfitting? The model demonstrates perfect rationality in many areas, but it's unable to produce normal responses to trauma or other stress-inducing tests.
"Lacks a personality, like an empty shell without a soul." That was the test engineer's assessment.
An empty shell...
Yui lowers her head, her expression unreadable. After a moment, she pulls out a report from the desk.
Miss Herta, you majored in neurology and neurosurgery at Gestrig, correct?
Yes... that's right. Is there anything I can help with?
Herta seems puzzled, apparently not expecting the sudden question about her time at Gestrig.
During the sampling process... is it possible to filter the subject's memories?
...Hmm, do you mean sampling only the personality without inputting memories as parameters?
Alright.
Technically it's possible, but... the Matrix doesn't seem to recommend this approach.
Bypassing hippocampal neural signals puts the model at risk of memory disorders. Without memories of developing the "consciousness," the model's intelligence and social awareness would regress to infantile levels...
Under those conditions... the time investment required to train the model to maturity would be immeasurable, and it might also damage the subject's neural system...
The time investment... isn't an issue. Let's proceed with this approach.
After a moment of contemplation, Yui takes up her pen and drafts the new experimental plan.
The model testing protocols established by Horst and the research team aren't absolute, and this realization has opened her eyes to new possibilities.
The experimental plan progresses smoothly, and before long, the new model is ready for sampling.
Yui wraps herself in a heavy isolation suit, squeezes into the experimental chamber, and signals to Herta that she's ready.
...Miss de Lévis, before we begin sampling, may I ask you one more question...
Her silence indicates permission to continue.
Why... would you want to filter your own memories?
...
Why? I suppose because...
Inside the experimental chamber, the harsh lights sear her retinas.
...Human memories don't conform to the laws of model growth. They might even restrict its development.
If we eliminate all factors originating from memories, we might reduce the noise interference in the samples.
I see...
Herta's contemplative voice comes through faintly from outside the chamber.
...Is it really just because of that...?
The door to the experimental chamber closes slowly, leaving Yui alone with the sound of her own heartbeat.
Well then, we're ready to begin...
Is it just to reduce the noise interference in the sample, or... does she want this child, when it's born... to be spared from all her pain?
Is it just to continue advancing the experiment, or does she want to see what kind of person a child who grows up in such a "dream" would become?
She cannot answer her own questions.
Preparations complete. During the filtering process, you'll need to quickly browse through your memories. You may re-experience certain past events in your mind.
This process may cause severe nerve pain... Though I've reminded you countless times already, I still have to say it.
...Please begin.
In the continuous drizzle, children frolic together in a playful huddle.
Next, it's my turn...
Standing at the edge of the pool, I muster my courage—
Splash—sharp pain shoots from Yui's ankle to her brain. Before she can regain balance, her body plunges into the muddy water.
It hurts so much—
De Lévis... are you okay?!
Yui's friend, Sophie, frantically pulls her out of the puddle.
Puddle jumping—the quintessential game for children on rainy days.But with the bruises on her knees and injured ankle, her left foot jumps, skips a beat and trips, sending her whole body splashing into the puddle.
...You were already hurt, I shouldn't have let you join...
It's fine, I wanted to jump. After all, rainy days don't come around often.
You might say that, but it's really cold today...
As she speaks, she helps wipe the mud from my legs with her handkerchief. The moisture evaporates from my skin, making me shiver involuntarily.
Yeah... but my home is kind of...
Sophie!
As Sophie speaks, she helps wipe the mud from Yui's legs with her handkerchief. The moisture evaporates from Yui's skin, making her shiver involuntarily.
Dad, you came to pick me up!
Sophie rushes over to the man, taking quick, eager steps. Her joyful energy almost dispels the gloom of the rainy day.
Did you forget? Today is—
Fa—ther's—Day! I kept a close eye on the calendar!
So I prepared for Dad—ta-daaa, it's a scarf I knitted all by myself!
The man obligingly bends down as Sophie excitedly gets on her tiptoes, wrapping a clumsily knitted scarf around his neck.
Hahaha! My baby is so thoughtful—come on, Dad's taking you home now!
He scoops his daughter up in his arms, playfully rubbing his stubbled cheek against hers.
<phonetic=Je t'aime>I love you</phonetic>, my little Sophie!
The man breaks out into a hearty laugh as tiny Sophie, now perched on his shoulders, lets out delighted squeals of joy.
Something stirs in Yui's heart,
ai... me... what is that?
It's magic, a spell that makes people happy!
Sophie answers with a proud grin.
Makes people... happy?
Yui's gaze falls on the scarf around the man's neck. So this is why Sophie has been working so hard in handicraft class all this time—to make a scarf for her father?
Although the scarf is rather shabby, it's Sophie's most treasured possession... which means...
If Yui gave her most precious thing to her father, would he say the magic words—the ones that make people happy?
Little de Lévis, you should hurry home too. Today is Father's Day, and the Count must be looking forward to your wishes as well!
...If I say the magic words, will I receive my father's love just like Sophie does?
De Lévis Mansion
The intricate statues and ornate patterns adorning the corners of the crumbling building reveal its once magnificent splendor.
Long ago, this estate was renowned for its wine production,
with amber wine flowing from its cellars throughout the Golden Age, making the de Lévis family known worldwide for their exquisite vintages.
Those were the family's most prosperous days.
And after that...
Yui navigates around a household robot that had been damaged beyond repair, then stops before a large door covered in wine stains and dents.
After the outbreak of the "Punishing Virus," this winery's remote location spared it major Corrupted invasions.
Wine became even more of a luxury in the new world.
A winery no longer needed by the world was, naturally, abandoned by it.
Just like the awkward name Yui de Lévis itself, it seems Yui was destined for a fractured fate from the moment of her birth.
Mother—
—an Eastern woman who married old man de Lévis and gave birth to her, only to leave when the winery fell into decline.
"She went to a place very, very far away," all the adults would say.
A noise from inside the room pulls Yui from her thoughts. She stops in her tracks.
Father... is he smashing wine glasses again?
There it is again. A slightly duller sound... that's a wine bottle hitting the table.
Wine bottles, picture frames, then a longer sound—he must be sweeping everything off the table...
The old wounds in her legs begin to throb with phantom pain, even though she's not the one being shattered.
Her body freezes in place. She is so cold, trembling, her teeth chattering uncontrollably until her gums ache.
The throbbing pain in her legs is an ill omen of what's about to happen. She can't take another step, can't force herself to go any further.
Why? Shouldn't that person in the room be the closest one to her in this world?
That's right... today is Father's Day. This holiday somehow made even Sophie's dad, who's busy guarding the town, travel miles and miles just to be with her.
It's a magical day, a day when miracles can happen... Surely a miracle will happen with her father too!
If she just says the magic words, maybe he'll be like Sophie's dad and playfully rub his stubble against her face, or perhaps even pick her up with joy...
She must give him a gift.
She wants a miracle, she wants to receive her father's love just like Sophie does...
Timidly, gingerly, she pushes open the door.
Dad, I'm home...
The spacious room is unnaturally quiet.
She steps forward cautiously, small glittering twinkles catching her eye—shards, a multitude of shards covering the floor, all kinds of shards.
Wine bottles, mirrors, ceramic plates, glass photo frames...
She lifts her gaze. The man she recognizes as her father sits slumped against the wall amid the shards, his eyes half-open.
You're back.
Father slowly rises and walks toward her, his tall silhouette blocking the overhead light, engulfing her entire field of vision.
Yes... yes.
She lowers her head, staring at the filthy carpet and wine-stained leather shoes. Her legs won't stop trembling.
...Why are you covered in dirt again?
His tone grows increasingly displeased as his shadow looms closer...
Well...
She opens her mouth, but no sound comes out. No, this isn't right... It's Father's Day. She shouldn't be afraid of her father. There's something more important.
I-I brought you a gift!
...
She frantically rummages through her backpack, revealing a snow-white rabbit plushie nestled quietly inside.
It's her most precious possession—just looking at it can instantly calm even the worst mood.
Does she really want to... give this to her father?
Well...
It's so hard to let go... This is like a friend who has grown up with her—been with her longer than her father ever has...
...But today is Father's Day. She shouldn't be selfish like she's been before.
If only... if only this could really make her father happier...
I fixed the plushie Mom left behind before she went away... I... I wanted to give it to you...
With obvious reluctance, she holds out the plushie to him.
...This was left behind by that woman?
Huh...? He's angry, but why? There must be some misunderstanding. She needs to explain properly.
Not "that woman," it's Mom! It's from Mom!
Clap!
Her body spins before crashing to the floor. A burning pain spreads across her face.
...
Rip—tear. The sound of fabric being shredded like worthless scrap paper.
Rip—tear. It's snowing—a blizzard of white fluff erupting from the plushie's torn body.
Rip—tear. The plushie joins the shattered glass scattered across the floor, reduced to worthless shreds.
Her father's expression darkens to a level she has never seen before. His veined hands begin frantically grabbing anything within reach, smashing each object to the floor with terrible force.
Everything shatters.
Wine bottles, purple-red stains, corks, mirrors, ceramic plates, glass photo frames...
Her body is no exception—like all the other trash, she is wrenched into the air, then violently slammed down.
Everything is breaking apart. Everything. And nothing can ever be pieced back together again.
