“Sister, are you really going? Let’s not…” Canaan pleaded.

  “It’s fine, Canaan. Nameless isn’t as scary as you think. Come on, straighten up, lift your bangs, and walk with your chest out. Got it?” Eve urged.

  “Even if you say that…” Canaan muttered.

  “No ‘even’ about it. Honestly… we’re twins, so why are we so different?” Eve said, exasperated.

  Hunching slightly, Canaan let Eve pull her along, her throat emitting a hoarse, strained whimper as she gripped her clothes tightly.

  Even twins aren’t identical in personality. Obviously—if everyone’s individuality were uniform, conflict wouldn’t exist, and mutual understanding would flourish. As long as humans remain human, clinging to their hearts and identities, the concept of individuality persists, and societies valuing the self endure. Eve understood this well, knowing humans can only survive within society’s framework.

  Yet, seeing Canaan—her mirror image—stirred ripples in Eve’s heart, urging her to question why her twin lacked such confidence. The sight of her own diminished reflection in Canaan’s timid posture, her oversensitivity to others’ gazes and words, sparked a psychological unease. Irritated by Canaan’s meekness, Eve scolded her, hurling sharp words to toughen her up. She resented Canaan’s insecurity but hated herself more for hurting her with petty criticisms.

  Canaan was Canaan, and Eve was Eve—distinct individuals with independent personalities, not meant to impose values on each other. Their father’s words, chastising Eve for always berating Canaan, echoed in her mind. She recalled nodding, watching their mother gently embrace the teary Canaan, stroking her hair.

  Just as their parents fulfilled their roles, Eve had to be a proper sister. Suppressing jealousy over Canaan receiving their parents’ full affection, she bore the weight of her mission, striving to be unbreakable steel. Swallowing the turmoil in her heart, crushing her desire to be coddled, Eve told herself to embody a maturity and cool-headedness beyond her years.

  “…”

  “Sister…? What’s wrong? Are we stopping?” Canaan asked.

  “Nothing,” Eve replied.

  “O-Okay…” Canaan stammered.

  Eve’s unyielding prismatic eyes silenced Canaan, forcing her to move forward. The two girls walked the white corridor, stopping before the black iron door. As it opened on its own, they stepped into the dim darkness beyond.

  Darkness stirs primal human fear, pressing with unbearable weight. Ignoring Canaan’s trembling, Eve shouted, “We’re here, Nameless!” and stood before the man tethered to a chair-like life-support system.

  “…”

  “Hey, Nameless? You alive?” Eve called.

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  His eyelids were shut, his wrinkled face pale under the monitor’s glow—no, ghostly, devoid of life.

  “S-Sister, who’s this…?” Canaan whispered.

  “Nameless,” Eve answered.

  “Nameless…? The one helping Mom and Dad’s plan, right? Um… the one who developed the Lumina in our bodies?” Canaan asked.

  “Exactly. Without him, the plan fails, and the path to world regeneration stays hidden. Nameless? If you’re alive, say something,” Eve demanded.

  Climbing the heap of machinery, Eve lightly tapped his dry cheek. Canaan rushed to stop her—slapping an elderly man, even one so grotesque, seemed wrong.

  “…I’m awake. Get away from me, Eve,” Nameless said.

  “If you’re awake, answer! I thought you were dead,” Eve retorted.

  “I was doing my work. Unlike you, I’m not free to focus on studies and training. Now…” Nameless’s cold, obsidian eyes fixed on Canaan, his bony throat bobbing as he sighed deeply.

  “The other little girl, your other half? Quite… different from you, Eve,” he said.

  “She’s not ‘little girl,’ she’s Canaan. Say it again, and I’ll smack you,” Eve warned.

  “…You’d do it, too. I’ll keep that in mind. Canaan… the promised land, huh? With Eve and Canaan together, only Adam remains. The plan seems on track. Eve, hold out your hand.”

  “What?” Eve asked, frowning.

  Extending her palm, she received a few candies wrapped in paper printed with an unfamiliar character. The golden, sugar-hard candies were like old-fashioned lollipops.

  “For you. Share them,” Nameless said.

  “…”

  “What? Don’t want them? I’ll dispose of them. Just sugar sweets from an organic synthesizer—nothing special.”

  “I didn’t say I don’t want them! Come on, Canaan, hold out your hand!” Eve urged.

  “O-Okay,” Canaan complied.

  Popping a candy into her mouth, the rich sugar scent tickled their noses. The odd, charming character on the wrapper somehow drew them in.

  “Nameless,” Eve said.

  “What?”

  “This character… what’s its name?”

  “It has none.”

  “Why not?”

  “I designed it from scratch. No name, no meaning. You said you’d come back, so I made it for that alone—a fleeting thing. Why give it a name or individuality? I don’t get it.”

  “I see… but it’s got charm, and I like it. You’ve got a knack for design, you know? If we can live on the surface, you should be a designer or technician,” Eve said.

  “…Don’t be ridiculous,” Nameless replied, but a faint smile softened his stern face, followed by a low chuckle. Seeing it, Eve smiled too, like a girl her age.

  “…”

  When was the last time Canaan saw her sister smile? Her seventh birthday, perhaps, when Eve already bore the weight of her mission, dedicating everything to the plan, vowing to live for others. Unlike Canaan’s innocent joy, Eve saw birthdays as formal markers of age.

  Burdened with everyone’s hopes, striving to meet expectations, Eve was a heavy weight for Canaan. Being the lesser twin eroded her spirit; their parents’ kindness felt like hollow pity.

  The candy’s sweetness burned her throat, numbing her tongue. Unconsciously lowering her gaze, tears pooling, Canaan inwardly lamented why she was so… weak compared to her sister.

  “Little… Canaan,” Nameless said.

  “…”

  “Why are you crying? Weeping silently, dyeing your heart with sorrow and grief. Eve, she’s your mirror image… no, I engineered you to be identical, so no flaws should exist. But Canaan seems… fragile compared to you.”

  “Nameless,” Eve snapped.

  “What? Did I say something wrong? No, I didn’t. Individuality and shared identity in twins show some similarities—a mystery of identical twins, perhaps. If one dies, transplant the brain, reinstall memories from the Hakara Deck, and you achieve a perfect individual beyond the original. He wanted you to support each other, but to me, twins are just genetically compatible spares… flawed backups.”

  Canaan’s heart teetered on collapse. A dry slap echoed, and Eve, seething, glared at Nameless.

  “I won’t forgive you for insulting my sister. Say it again, Nameless… badmouth Canaan, and I’ll destroy the plan, everything. I don’t care what you say about me—but apologize to her. Now!”

  Furious, Eve grabbed Nameless’s collar.