"So sweet." Shuichiro Keido took a bite of cake and immediately felt a surge of admiration for General Yan. This cake was overwhelmingly sweet—sickeningly so—yet General Yan could eat it without flinching.
"The Project Crown has made a breakthrough," General Yan said after a long conversation. "We've successfully extracted Mana Ouma's genes and created a host for the Void Greatsword. The Crown is nearly complete. However, we're not yet certain if the Void Greatsword can truly destroy the virus."
"May I see the child?" Kurumi Tokisaki's wine-red eyes brightened instantly. Titles like Angel or Supreme Commander of GHQ meant little to her—those were just distractions. From the very beginning, Kurumi's true goal had always been Inori.
"Of course! The Angel's will is our highest command," General Yan said solemnly.
"Can we go now?" Kurumi asked eagerly, her voice filled with expectation.
"Uh—" General Yan's composure faltered instantly.
...
At the center of the Void Research Facility, a girl lay curled up inside a vertical glass incubation chamber filled with nutrient solution. Bubbles occasionally rose to the surface, carrying oxygen through the liquid.
Outside the chamber, Kurumi's fiery gaze was fixed on the girl's delicate form. An overwhelming sense of possessiveness surged within her.
"One day, I'll give you a new body," Kurumi whispered softly. Seeing the girl's naked form ignited two conflicting instincts within her. First, Kurumi loathed that others could see her like this. Second, the girl had been grown from Mana Ouma's genetic material—something Kurumi found intolerable.
Kurumi had already made up her mind. When the girl belonged to her completely, she would create a new body for her. She had already begun considering the methods of constructing mechanical or doll-like bodies—similar to those in NieR: Automata or Rozen Maiden.
"In just a few more days, she'll be born," said the head of the facility, Shuichiro Keido. "We can use direct data input to instill her with modern knowledge." He spoke clinically, treating the girl as nothing more than a tool.
"No," Kurumi said sharply—the first time her voice carried true anger. "Doing that might make her mature instantly, but it would also erase her personality. She would become a hollow shell, without a soul. I want a true Crown, not just a vessel."
Keido fell silent. Since the Angel had spoken, there was no room for argument.
Kurumi gently placed her hand on the glass chamber and smiled warmly. "I bestow upon you the name Inori. Be born soon, my angel who belongs to me alone."
Three days later, the clone known as Inori Yuzuriha was born. When she opened her eyes, her gaze was filled with innocent wonder. Everything in the world was new and fascinating to her.
Researchers in white lab coats taught her about the world, though their faces were cold and stern. Inori listened earnestly, absorbing every bit of knowledge with curiosity and humility. She was curious about everything, but never touched anything in the lab—no one had ever told her she was allowed to.
When her stomach rumbled in hunger, Inori noticed that others took food from something called a refrigerator. But since no one said she could, she didn't dare. She remembered hearing once that bread was edible, so when hunger became unbearable, she dipped a piece of bread in water and ate it quietly.
Inori treated everyone kindly, responding to all with gentle goodwill. But kindness did not bring kindness in return. When she learned the word "disgust," she realized that everyone looked at her with that very expression.
She didn't understand why. Had she done something wrong? She knew that when one made a mistake, one should say "I'm sorry." So, not knowing when it began, Inori started apologizing to the people in white coats.
But not all apologies bring forgiveness. For them, those words—I'm sorry—were like a demon's trigger. After she spoke them, their eyes filled with hatred. The white coats began to beat her mercilessly, whipping her while shouting curses—calling her a curse, a disaster, blaming her for the deaths of their loved ones.
Inori felt deeply wronged. She had never even met their families—so why did they blame her for their deaths? Tearfully, she kept apologizing, but her apologies only enraged them further. Their whips struck harder, fueled by pure hatred. From their eyes, Inori saw only loathing.
Through countless days of pain, two words etched themselves into Inori's heart—"family." She knew they hurt her because of their families, but what exactly was family? From the day she was born, the only people she saw were those in white lab coats. Were they her family? If so, why did they hurt her?
Without knowing why, Inori recalled a voice she had heard at the moment of her birth: "I bestow upon you the name—Inori." Who was that voice? She had never heard it again within the laboratory. That person must be her family, right? The one who gave her a name. But what was family, truly? Inori didn't understand.
Yet a small but powerful wish began to grow within her heart—a longing to find the owner of that voice. To find her family.
2035, Christmas Day. Inside the Void Research Facility, one of the scientists, Momoka, was drunk beyond reason. Six years ago, on this very day, his wife, child, and mother had all crystallized into dust from the virus.
Momoka loathed himself for surviving, cursed his own weakness, and hated his cowardice for not following his family into death.
"Haa... haa..." The facility was empty. It was strange—this research institute had never once taken a holiday, yet it was closed today. But Momoka was in no state to ponder such things. Stumbling through the halls with his bottle of liquor, he tripped and fell forward.
"Are you okay?" A soft but concerned voice spoke. Someone caught him before he hit the floor. Blinking through the haze, he saw a pink-haired girl in a white lab coat—Inori Yuzuriha.
"Don't touch me, you damn virus!" Momoka roared, shoving her away with sudden strength born of terror. He stumbled back, trembling as memories of the Lost Christmas replayed in his mind.
"My wife... my son... my mother!" he cried, tears streaming down his face. "They're all dead! All of them!" His eyes went red as he pulled out a whip from his belt and lashed it at Inori in a frenzy.
"You monster! It's your fault! It's all your fault! Give me back my family! GIVE THEM BACK!" Crack, crack, crack! The whip struck again and again, slicing red welts across Inori's arms. She cowered in a corner, shielding herself.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry..." she sobbed repeatedly, but her apologies only made him more violent.
"Die! DIE! DIE, YOU MONSTER!" he screamed, his rage and grief collapsing into madness. He raised the whip again—but his body suddenly swayed. The alcohol overwhelmed him, and he collapsed to the ground, snoring loudly.
"I'm sorry..." Inori whispered in confusion. When the blows stopped, she opened her eyes to see Momoka unconscious. After a moment of hesitation, she noticed a white coat hanging on the wall. Gently, she took it down and placed it over him—afraid he might catch cold.
On the desk beside him, a monitor glowed faintly. The title read: S-Class File: The Lost Christmas.
Curious, Inori leaned closer. The file had been left open, accidentally unlocked by Momoka's drunken state.
"December 2029, Christmas Eve—the Apocalypse Virus erupted worldwide. Half of humanity perished instantly. The event was later named 'The Lost Christmas.'"
Inori's eyes widened as she continued reading. This document contained the true cause of the outbreak. On the final page, she saw an image—a girl identical to herself. The name beneath it read: Mana Ouma—Patient Zero.
...
Outside, rain poured relentlessly over Tokyo. A pink-haired girl in a white lab coat ran through the streets, her vision blurred by tears. Now she knew everything—but she could not accept it. Why should she bear another's sins? Just because she shared the same face? How could anyone accept that?
So Inori ran. She fled the research facility she had known all her life. Whether by chance or fate, every corridor she passed was unguarded. She escaped easily into the cold, merciless rain.
The freezing water soaked her to the bone, her body trembling violently. She didn't know where to go, or where she belonged. All she wanted was somewhere warm—somewhere she could call home. No storm could wash away that yearning. She longed for family, for belonging.
She didn't know how long she ran. Exhausted, starving, and drenched to the skin, Inori's head spun. Her vision blurred, and at last, she collapsed onto the street. The rushing water from the gutters swept around her limp body. Consciousness faded.
Before darkness took her, a familiar voice echoed in her mind—"I bestow upon you the name—Inori."
With trembling legs, she tried to stand again—but after only a few steps, she fell once more. This time, her world went completely black.
"Hey! There's a girl passed out here! Someone call an ambulance!" a passerby shouted as people gathered around.
"Move aside! My girlfriend ran out after an argument—it's Christmas, for god's sake! Let me take her home," said a blond-haired thug as he and a group of delinquents pushed through the crowd.
These men were the city's drifters, prowling for amusement on Christmas night. Bored and looking for trouble, they had stumbled upon the unconscious girl—and dark thoughts immediately filled their minds.
"Everyone, clear out! Nothing to see here. Just a couple making up," one of them barked. The bystanders hesitated, but eventually left—none of them wanting to get involved.
"Boss, this one's a real prize," one thug snickered as they surrounded Inori, their grins vile. The blond leader reached down to grab her.
"Excuse me," came a low, velvety voice from behind them, calm yet commanding. "Would you mind not touching my angel?"