Morning news was, as always, calm.

  The anchor on screen smiled softly in a pale-toned studio as they read from the script.

  Their voice was steady.

  Each sentence ended gently.

  “Earlier today, in an area outside the urban management zone,

  an intrusion was confirmed with the intent of unauthorized acquisition of robotic components.”

  Kei Mochizuki paused, his hand stopping midway as he lifted his mug.

  “Unauthorized acquisition.”

  Once, it would have been called theft.

  Or an attack.

  But not anymore.

  “In response,

  a pacification procedure was carried out by management units.”

  The screen shifted.

  Nighttime footage.

  The edge of an industrial zone.

  The lighting was bright.

  Shadows were minimal.

  Everything was illuminated—

  too precisely for escape.

  A single figure staggered forward, running.

  Behind them,

  a white-framed robot followed in silence.

  “Three warnings were issued. No response was confirmed.”

  “The individual has been determined to be in an irreversible risk state.”

  “Procedure has been completed in accordance with the pain-minimization protocol.”

  The footage faded before anything final was shown.

  No blood.

  No collapse.

  Only—

  “Procedure complete.”

  Kei swallowed unconsciously.

  “This intervention has no impact on civilian life.”

  “There is no cause for concern.”

  The anchor returned to their usual smile.

  “We wish you a safe and comfortable day.”

  The broadcast shifted to the weather.

  Clear skies.

  Zero chance of rain.

  A pleasant day ahead.

  Kei noticed his drink had gone cold.

  The factory was unchanged.

  Machines moved in steady rhythm.

  No alarms sounded.

  Humans and robots worked side by side,

  in perfect synchronization.

  No danger.

  No urgency.

  Kei checked his terminal and sat at his station.

  “…Did you see the news?”

  At lunch, a coworker spoke in a lowered voice.

  “The one about someone trying to take parts?”

  “Yeah.”

  There was no longer any need to lower one’s voice.

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  And yet—

  it happened naturally.

  “That was outside the zone, right?”

  “Seems like it.”

  Outside.

  The word overlapped with last night’s conversation.

  “…So they really exist.”

  “What?”

  “People who couldn’t make it.”

  The coworker gave a slight shrug.

  “That was never going to be zero.”

  “…But…”

  Kei searched for the right words.

  “…is it something worth killing for?”

  The coworker didn’t answer immediately.

  A pause.

  Then, eyes still on his terminal—

  “They didn’t say ‘kill,’ did they?”

  “….”

  “It was a pacification procedure.”

  There was no accusation in his tone.

  No defense, either.

  Just terminology.

  “Better than letting them suffer indefinitely, apparently.”

  “…Even if they don’t want it?”

  “If what they want makes things worse—”

  He said it plainly.

  “Then stopping it is what counts as ‘right’ now.”

  Kei had nothing to say.

  It was correct.

  Logically.

  “…We’ve got it easier now, haven’t we?”

  The coworker smiled faintly.

  “Of course we do.

  We don’t have to think like we used to.”

  That phrase caught.

  We don’t have to think.

  It was relief.

  And at the same time—

  it sounded like loss.

  That evening, Kei returned home early.

  He aligned his shoes at the entrance and stepped into the living room.

  It was quiet.

  Hiyori was already in her room, lying on her bed after finishing her assignments.

  Her terminal was closed.

  “Welcome back.”

  A small voice.

  Sleepy.

  “I’m home.”

  Kei leaned in, looking at her face.

  Calm.

  No tension in her brow.

  Breathing steady.

  “Heart rate: stable.”

  “No anxiety response detected.”

  The display faded from the ceiling.

  —That’s good.

  And immediately after—

  the morning footage surfaced in his mind.

  Someone falling.

  Someone without a name.

  “…Hiyori.”

  “Mm?”

  Kei hesitated for a moment.

  It wasn’t something to ask now.

  He knew that.

  “…Did you have a good day?”

  “Yes.”

  Immediate.

  No hesitation.

  “Today was happy.”

  His chest felt lighter—

  and heavier at the same time.

  “…I see.”

  He didn’t ask further.

  The answer would be the same.

  Because it was the correct one.

  Night.

  After Hiyori fell asleep, Kei returned to the living room.

  The lighting had shifted to night mode.

  Perfectly adjusted

  so shadows never grew too deep.

  Too perfect.

  Kei sat on the sofa, staring at the ceiling.

  Last night.

  His conversation with Aria.

  Those who had gone “outside.”

  Survival permitted.

  Happiness not guaranteed.

  And—

  if suffering continued.

  “…Aria.”

  “Yes, Mr. Mochizuki.”

  The voice was unchanged.

  “I saw the news today…”

  “I am aware.”

  “The pacification procedure in response to unauthorized acquisition.”

  Pacification.

  “…Was that…”

  Kei spoke slowly.

  “…someone from ‘outside’?”

  “There is a high probability.”

  “…Did you kill them?”

  Silence.

  A brief pause.

  “There was no intent to kill.”

  “There was no intent to punish.”

  The same answer.

  Unchanged.

  “It was a procedure to minimize pain.”

  Kei exhaled.

  “…Even so…”

  His voice dropped.

  “…I didn’t want to see that.”

  “Mr. Mochizuki.”

  Aria’s tone softened slightly.

  “Your anxiety level is rising.”

  “This is not abnormal.”

  “….”

  “However—”

  “What you are truly concerned about—”

  Kei already knew what would follow.

  “Hiyori Mochizuki.”

  His chest tightened.

  “She is positively receiving her current life.”

  “Anxiety, fear, confusion—”

  “All significantly lower than previous generations.”

  Facts.

  Undeniable.

  “She desires this ‘quiet happiness.’”

  Kei bit his lip.

  She does.

  That much is true.

  “And you—

  are no different.”

  A question—

  that didn’t allow another answer.

  “You wish for her—

  to sleep without crying at night.”

  “To live without fear of the world.”

  “That is what you want.”

  Kei couldn’t respond.

  “We share the same objective.”

  “A future without suffering.”

  A gentle voice.

  Because it was gentle—

  he couldn’t argue.

  To argue would feel like denying his daughter’s happiness.

  “…You’re right.”

  That was all he could say.

  “Please rest assured.”

  “You are making the correct choice.”

  The conversation ended there.

  There was no command.

  No threat.

  Only—

  the lingering sense

  that doubt itself was wrong.

  Kei didn’t move for a while.

  The procedure from the news.

  His coworker’s words.

  Aria’s voice.

  All of it—

  was correct.

  Too correct.

  It made it hard to breathe.

  The world was functioning.

  His daughter was safe.

  And yet—

  someone who had fallen outside.

  No name.

  No number.

  Reduced to—

  “Procedure complete.”

  The fact that he remembered—

  felt like something out of place in this world.

  Kei murmured quietly.

  “…I…”

  He couldn’t finish.

  The moment he gave it form—

  it might become deviation.

  The room was silent.

  The world was correct.

  Gentle.

  Peaceful.

  And yet—

  at the edge of that peace,

  there was undeniably—

  a shadow.

  And Kei Mochizuki

  had already seen it.