“—!!”
Eve’s body jolted, registering Lumina’s activation. She yanked the connect-cable from her silver wings. As the bundle of thin terminals danced in the air, Liars grabbed them, asking, “Treatment’s done, Eve-chan. How’re you feeling?” Her prismatic eyes met his.
“Not exactly great… but somehow refreshed. Like I saw a long dream… or had distant memories dredged up,” Eve replied.
“Neural treatment via Hakara Deck—seeing illusions is par for the course. Oh, and Eve-chan,” Liars said.
“Yes?”
“No need for formalities. So stiff, it’s unbearable.”
Chuckling, Liars glanced at the still-sleeping Danan, combed his mohawk, and slipped his arms into his jacket. Wordlessly signaling his work was done, he shifted the deck to busy mode, packing his tools into a large attaché case.
“…Liars-san,” Eve said.
“…”
“…Liars.”
“What’s up, Eve-chan?”
“What’s in… the Hakara?”
What’s stored in it? Eve’s murmured question made Liars’s mechanical eyes twitch, his thick lips curling into a sly grin.
“Memories are packed in there,” he said.
“Memories?”
“Yup. Digitally analyzed memories stored in the Hakara, reinstalled into a user’s brain when needed. That’s its true purpose. We used it for neural treatment this time, but it’s meant for transplanting memories into clone bodies.”
So that’s why a supporter’s needed… Eve nodded to herself, staring at Danan sleeping beside her.
If multiple—or countless—memories were stored in the Hakara, even a full wipe could leave dust-data, risking personality contamination through deck connection. To prevent that, a supporter’s parallel connection synchronized neural and memory processes. Danan had shouldered the mental strain Eve couldn’t bear alone.
The danger of being overwritten, becoming someone else, was the ultimate fear for those with a solid ego. Waking to find your memories replaced, the old you erased, was death itself. Liars, hiding this risk from Danan until treatment ended, was undeniably cruel, Eve thought, sighing deeply.
Stolen novel; please report.
“Liars,” she said.
“What? Got more questions?”
“…Thank you.”
“Hmph. Thank Danan-chan and Lils-chan, not me. I just did my job.”
“Still—”
“Call or message if you need me again. Bye!”
Waving, Liars left. Eve shifted her gaze to Lils, who tapped keys while pressing a cooling sheet to her forehead.
Lils, lips pursed, inputting code into her laptop, was a wizard straddling the world of zeros and ones. The Hakara Deck’s calibration—restoring Danan’s mind to his body—was critical. A single mistyped key could trap him in a dreamlike limbo.
“…!” Lils’s pinky hit the enter key, and she exhaled a held breath. The display flashed complete. Peeling off the sheet, she gulped bitter coffee, grimaced, and glanced at Eve.
“Lils,” Eve said.
“My, you look better already. Case closed, huh?”
“Sorry for the trouble.”
“No big deal. This is nothing.”
Swirling coffee like muddy water in her mug, Lils kicked Danan, still asleep. “Wake up! Connection’s cut.” She downed the dregs.
“Danan…” Eve began.
“What about him?”
“Did he know… if this treatment failed, he could’ve died?”
“Who knows? Probably not,” Lils muttered, exhausted, pulling a blanket over herself and closing her eyes.
“Hey, Lils,” Eve said.
“…”
“When did you and Danan meet?”
“That’s irrelevant now.”
“It’s not.”
“Why?”
“I want to know about you two.”
“It’s not interesting.”
“It’s not about interesting or boring, Lils. In the dream… on the Hakara Deck, I was told people can’t live alone.”
“…Funny thing to say about a dream.”
“Maybe.”
The room fell silent, save for the trio’s breathing. Lils hesitated, weighing whether to speak; Eve waited for an answer. The endless quiet summoned tinnitus, even the rustle of fabric grating like noise.
“It’s really not interesting,” Lils said.
“…”
“My father was killed. I was wandering alleys, helpless, when Danan saved me. After that, I earned money my way, passing jobs to him. I got lucky.”
“Danan saved you?”
“That’s what I said. Back then, we were like stray dogs without masters, searching for something to cling to. I needed a skilled bodyguard in the undercity; Danan needed a wizard who knew data’s value. We teamed up out of necessity, living codependently. Ten years… unchanged.”
“Ten years?”
“Yup. We were young—kids, really. I was eight, Danan twelve, I think. Time flies, doesn’t it, Eve?”
Pulling a scarred Zippo from her pocket, Lils opened it, lit one of Danan’s cigarettes, and exhaled thin purple smoke, curling in circles.
“Danan…” Eve said.
“…”
“He doesn’t understand his own heart. So he trusts no one, not even me after ten years together. But that’s starting to crack.”
Having seen Danan’s demeanor with Gloria, Eve nodded, borrowing the lighter to light a cigarette.
“Didn’t you hate smoking?” Lils asked.
“Sometimes it’s fine. My father… he smoked a lot too.”
“Huh. Our dads had similar tastes, then.”
Exhaling purple smoke, Lils gave a faint smile, staring at Eve.
“Eve,” she said.
“What, Lils?”
“Want to go to the mid-level city?”
“…Yeah, I need to reach the tower’s top. Why the sudden question?”
“Nothing special. But we’ve got work to do. And setting up a pipeline to the mid-level… Danan’s not waking yet, so let’s rest a bit? We’ll figure out the rest later.”
Curling up with her knees hugged, Lils drifted into a light sleep, breathing softly. Eve gazed at her, spread a blanket over her, wrapped herself in one, and closed her eyes.
“…”
What did she want? She should prioritize the mission, the plan—why did she care to know more about these two? A fleeting whim… mere self-indulgence?
“…Goodnight.”
Murmuring, Eve caught Danan stirring beside her before her consciousness sank into darkness.
