The next day.
My feet dangled, not touching the floor. The backrest was too upright, and the seat was hard, in a way that didn't care whether you were comfortable or not.
Dad glanced at me, then patted his thigh gently. Without being asked twice, I climbed up and sat on his lap.
Much better.
But I still sighed. This was my first trip outside the small yard where I'd grown up safely since reincarnating into this world.
I didn't expect that the "gift" Dad promised would be the thing to take me through the complex gates for the first time.
Dressed in a cotton shirt and comfortable shorts, I sat quietly on Dad's lap, Mom right beside us. I was hugging that dolphin plushie tight against my chest.
Actually, I'd tried to 'accidentally' leave it on the bed. But Mom found it with radar-like speed, then handed it to me with such a genuinely bright face that I couldn't say no.
I sighed inwardly. Physically I'm a toddler, but mentally I'm completely defeated by a mother's gaze. In the end, this dolphin came along too.
A small jolt of the bus as it passed over a speed bump snapped me out of my daydream.
I turned back to stare at the plushie in my arms. Its texture felt oddly at odds with the questions that had been spinning in my head this whole time.
Is this the gift Dad promised? A trip?
My fingers tightened on the plushie's belly. I looked up briefly, trying to read Dad's expression, before throwing my gaze back to the window.
The world outside moved slowly.
What I saw were rows of tall trees with thick, dark green leaves. Their trunks were straight and sturdy, lined neatly along the road. This was the first time I'd seen trees like that. They looked like something straight out of a cartoon.
Between the trees, the road was clean. I squinted, tracing the edge of the sidewalk.
Nothing there.
No plastic tucked in the grass. No blackened cigarette butts. Even the corners were spotless.
Something felt wrong for a second. Only after a few moments did I realize why this scene felt so off.
Where I used to live, sidewalks were always cluttered with remnants of other people's lives. Empty bottles. Wet cardboard. Things left behind because they were too much trouble to bring home.
Here, there was none of that.
People passed by on the sidewalk. A man with a large backpack walked briskly while staring at his phone. But overall, they didn't look stressed. Not like the people in my memories of my previous life, who always seemed like they were being chased by something.
Not far from there, two women walked side by side, sharing bursts of laughter, while a boy pedaled his bike furiously, chasing something I initially thought was a cat.
I pressed my nose against the cold bus window.
Turns out it wasn't a cat; it was a green lizard over a meter long.
I waited for someone to scream. I waited for the bus to stop, for people to run away in fear.
But nothing happened. The two women on the sidewalk kept laughing, and the cars beside us kept moving as if that lizard was just another piece of street decoration.
Their indifferent attitude stunned me more than the lizard's existence itself. Seeing it treated like a regular pet, I finally realized: the gap between this world and my old one really was that wide.
"That... is big..." I mumbled softly.
Mom turned, raising an eyebrow. "Ah, that's Gren, Sweetie," she said with a gentle smile. "Cute, right? He's tame. Often plays in the park."
I kept staring at the lizard with my mouth slightly open. "But... it's so huge," I mumbled, half disbelieving.
Dad chuckled, patting my shoulder. "Relax. They only eat insects and fruit. Don't bite people." He looked at me for a moment, then smiled as if wanting to make sure I felt at ease.
I nodded slowly, still watching Gren move with such calm.
Geez... So something that shocking is just considered a passing breeze here. I really need to start getting used to this new standard of 'normal.'
The bus started moving again, slowly leaving behind the sidewalk and the sound of those two women's laughter.
I pressed my forehead to the glass, watching other cars pass by, their shapes sleek, their colors varied. At a glance, not much different from my previous world, but this world's atmosphere… felt foreign yet strangely real.
I used to imagine this world would be way more futuristic. Cars floating in the air, strange technology everywhere.
That image probably came from a vague memory from when I was still very young (whatever age that was) about something I once thought was a fighter jet passing behind my bedroom window. Though now I'm not sure that memory is even intact. Its shape was too advanced for that era.
But reality wasn't like that.
Whether it was just a prototype, or maybe I really did remember it wrong. as far as the eye could see, this city still felt familiar. Just quieter.
No noisy engine roar. No visible black smoke. I kept wondering why it could be like this. Maybe the vehicles here run on different technology, or maybe I was just too used to a city that never stopped being loud.
Either way, this view was easy on the eyes.
Ding—
"Next stop: Sector 3. Please check the area around your seat and the overhead luggage rack once more. Make sure no belongings, documents, or electronic devices are left behind."
A brief pause. The voice continued with safety warnings.
"For passengers who... Thank you for..."
As soon as that announcement ended, the atmosphere inside the bus shifted. I could feel the subtle vibration of the engine as it slowly began to slow. Around me, people started stirring; some adjusted their posture, others began slinging bags over their shoulders. The sound of zippers being pulled was crisp in the suddenly restless cabin.
From the front row, the voices of two passengers drifted back faintly.
"Tch, look at that sidewalk. Our taxes all went here, no wonder Sector 7's potholes never get patched."
"Ssst, don't talk so loud."
I sighed and pressed my forehead against the cold window glass. The echo of that announcement left one word spinning stubbornly in my head.
Sector...
That word—one I'd heard often, years ago, when I first woke up in this world. Now I wasn't even sure when I last thought about it.
What remained were only vague fragments. No details. As if there was a vast library somewhere in my head, but someone had scrambled the index.
Besides 'Sector,' I was sure there were other things my parents had talked about. Something that felt important. I wracked my brain until it ached. But my memory stayed blank.
Almost.
There were only three labels left: talent, sector, and… what?
There's one more thing. I'm sure of it. But what?!
Frustration started creeping up from my chest. God. I felt like banging my head against the bus wall right now. Maybe a little physical shock could shake that stuck memory back into place.
But of course, that's stupid. Besides, this toddler skull would probably crack before anything came out.
How could I forget something this important? Is it because I've been playing the toddler role too long, until my mind went dull too? Or does this body actually seal memories that are too heavy to carry?
No answer.
And sitting here mourning my disappearing brain cells wouldn't help either. What's clear is I need a notebook. I need to start writing down everything I remember, no matter how small, before my world slowly shrinks and gets filled with nothing but food and dolphin plushies.
The hissing sound of the bus brakes engaging snapped me out of that dark spiral.
The vibration of the slowing vehicle forced me to stop interrogating myself and look at what was actually waiting out there.
As the bus eased to a halt, I watched the view again. The buildings of Sector 3 started filling my field of vision.
Up there, magnetic rails floated as tracks for trains gliding soundlessly between the tall structures. The architecture looked elegant, softened by lush green plants decorating every balcony.
So this is what Sector 3 looks like. A city? Or something bigger—an administrative unit?
Truly impressive; my chest felt tight just taking it all in. All this technological advancement stretched before my eyes, and somehow it made me feel smaller. More blind to the vastness of this world.
My curiosity started building. I glanced at Dad, who was enjoying a quiet chat with Mom. I stared at him, pursing my lips. If I looked innocent enough, maybe he'd answer my questions.
"Dad?" I tugged at the edge of his sleeve, gently enough for him to notice.
Dad stopped mid-sentence, then turned. "Yes, Sweetheart? Eh, what's wrong? Bus sick?"
"No..." I quickly shook my head, trying to keep my act natural. I tilted my head slightly. "That... Dad... earlier that... whose voice was that? What is Sector Three?"
Dad didn't answer right away. He turned to Mom, one eyebrow raised, as if silently asking, How do I explain this to a kid?
Mom just shrugged, holding back a laugh, and left Dad to struggle alone.
"Sector is..." Dad rolled his eyes at my face, clearly wrestling with how to explain something heavy to a small child. "Hmm, let me think... just imagine it like a reeeally big toy box. Smart, right? Our island is divided into boxes so Dad and the other adults can manage everything easily."
What?
Toy box? Seriously, Dad? What kind of explanation is that? Plus, why does your smile look like a villain straight out of a movie?
I held back the urge to roll my eyes and kept fishing for information.
"Um... So like Sera's toy rack?"
"There! Exactly!" Dad snapped his fingers, looking relieved that I caught his meaning.
"There are all kinds of boxes! There's a box filled with a huge flower garden, one filled with a bread factory... Doesn't Sera want to ask if there's a chocolate box?" Mom chimed in, pinching my cheek with a playful squeeze. She then busied herself smoothing down my messy strands of hair.
I nodded, pretending to understand.
But behind that nod, my small brain kicked into high gear. Those scattered pieces started clicking into place. I kind of got what Dad meant. If everything was divided like this, no wonder this city looked so neat, like a toy rack, each thing in its own place.
Hm… that makes sense. Too much sense, actually.
Wait…
That "box" analogy suddenly felt a bit suspicious. Does this mean almost all the big decisions are controlled by one system? If that's the case… it's not just buildings that are placed so neatly.
Maybe the people too?
A faint chill crept up the back of my neck as the implications settled in. I turned to Dad again, trying to throw out a question that sounded childish on the surface but carried a very different weight underneath.
"Dad…"
"If..." I paused, squeezing my dolphin plushie's fin as though it was just a passing thought. "If Sera's toys want to move to another box... can they? Can Sera move boxes too, later?"
I asked it casually. No pressure in my voice. But inside, what I really wanted to know was this: how free do people actually live in a world made of "boxes"?
Dad fell silent for a moment.
He didn't answer right away. Instead, he adjusted my position on his lap, settling me into something more comfortable. That brief pause made my heart beat a little faster.
Am I pushing too hard?
"Move boxes?" Dad chuckled, his tone lighter this time. "Of course you can, Sweetheart. Later, when Sera's all grown up, you can choose your very own box."
"All of them?" I asked, making sure.
"Yes," Dad said, smiling. "But usually, people stay in the box that fits them best."
Mom added, still pinching my cheek with a gentle squeeze, "So Sera won't get tired walking around. the boxes are made just right for everyone."
I went quiet for a moment, staring at the genuine warmth in Mom's eyes.
I realized that "toy box" explanation was their way of shielding me. All they wanted was for me to grow up as a happy little kid, without being weighed down by the complexity of social or political systems.
Seeing how hard they tried to simplify the world for me, my selfish curiosity suddenly felt small. I didn't want to break this warm atmosphere by chasing answers that would only put them in an awkward position.
Their answer was simple. And it was full of love. That was enough.
I decided to end this line of questioning.
"Then," I said softly, pulling my dolphin plushie close again. I buried my face into its fur so they couldn't read my expression. "Sera... Sera wants to stay in the box where Dad and Mom are. And where there are dolphins too."
Ah, embarrassing… I thought, feeling my cheeks grow hot.
I had just realized that this "sweet little kid" act was starting to make me want to dig a hole in the ground and disappear. But whatever. Let Dad and Mom enjoy being fooled.
Dad laughed openly, as if my words had reached somewhere deep. "That's the best answer Papa's ever heard!"
His laughter still hung in the air as the bus began to slow. Gradually, that big vehicle came to a complete stop with one long, soft hiss from its suspension.
My body jolted slightly forward, but Dad's arm around my middle held me steady. I looked up at his face, then shifted my gaze to the window.
The people out there were so busy, moving quickly like ants chasing sugar.
The bus door opened, letting a breath of cool air sweep into the cabin. Passengers filed off one by one, in orderly fashion.
Dad guided me to stand, then led me carefully down the steep bus stairs. Meanwhile, Mom made sure nothing was left behind on the seats.
One small step.
Two small steps.
Until finally, my feet touched the platform.
The sight before me made my breath catch.
This wasn't just a bus stop. It was a cathedral of technology.
The platform floor was made of a sleek white composite material, catching and reflecting the light that poured in from the giant transparent ceiling overhead. Beyond the glass, magnetic trains glided along elevated tracks, weaving between neat automatic bus lanes. The trains seemed to float above the city, moving without a sound on their rails.
I stared at the wide street stretching out before me, then looked down at my own small feet.
Should I cross a station this massive on toddler legs?
No, thank you. That would take way too much energy.
So I stopped walking and tugged at Dad's shirt hem.
I looked up at him, then called softly, "Dad..."
Dad stopped, glanced down, and smiled until his eyes crinkled. "Yes, Your Highness? What's up? Want to ask about that tall building again?" he asked.
Hm, seems like my dad genuinely loves being asked all kinds of things.
I shook my head slightly, then spread both arms wide. "Carry me..."
Dad laughed warmly, the sound easy and unhurried. "Oh my, Papa's child is so spoiled today, hm?" he teased, hooking his hands under my armpits and lifting me high. He settled me onto his sturdy shoulders so I could take in the view from a higher vantage point.
Dad set off at an easy pace, as if my weight was nothing at all.
But after just one step, a voice came from beside us.
"Honey," Mom called. she'd been walking on the other side, her eyes sparkling with the kind of mischief only a little kid could pull off. "Carry me too, won't you?"
Dad froze.
I could feel the muscle in his shoulder, the one I was using as my seat, tense for a split second. The relaxed look on his face just moments before vanished. He turned to Mom, his eyes widening slightly, as if checking whether she was actually serious.
Mom just smiled wide, innocent, hopeful, arms already slightly outstretched. As if her request was the most natural thing in the world: a husband carrying both his wife and child at the same time, right after getting off the bus.
I watched it all unfold, my mouth opening, then closing again.
Only one thought crossed my mind...
Crazy.