At this moment, Fran had already removed her thin nightgown and changed into her usual small dress and doctor's coat.
Sigrid gently pushed the door open and walked in, then saw Fran sitting at the dressing table. With practiced tacit understanding, she stepped forward, picked up the wooden comb, and began re-braiding the plaits beside Fran's hair.
"How is the research on the forged item progressing?"
Feeling Sigrid's fingers pass through her hair and skillfully gather it, Fran asked about her gains from the STC.
"The progress is fast, you could say unimaginably fast. If the material forging goes smoothly, it will probably only take about half a month to produce a sufficiently stable finished product."
When explaining this to Fran, Sigrid's eyes held a trace of barely suppressed excitement.
Such challenging forging work could greatly stir her passion.
At the same time, the AI loaded with the STC was a nearly omniscient teacher. No matter what problems arose during the prototyping process, she could get detailed and clear answers in the shortest time.
"Material issues? I remember there's still some living metal in stock... Materials like ceramite were also collected before. Wraithbone can be synthesized with the instrument; there won't be a shortage."
Fran thought for a moment, then decided to help the maid lady speed up the research progress a bit more.
"That's great! Oh... I mean, thank you for your assistance, Dr. Fran."
For a moment, Sigrid didn't suppress the excitement in her heart, almost giving Fran a hug. But she quickly realized she might be acting too rashly and let go somewhat sheepishly.
"If materials aren't used, they just gather dust. Sigrid, as Fog Street's only artisan, they can only show their maximum value in your hands."
A slight smile curved Fran's lips as she offered reassurance.
"Oh, Dr. Fran. There's one more thing I need to tell you..."
At this point, a touch of gravity appeared in Sigrid's molten gold eyes, as if it were quite important.
"Last night, the AI lady in that terminal... asked for my name."
"Oh?"
Generally, an artificial intelligence in a deep dormant state wouldn't exhibit personification. This piqued Fran's interest in the development.
"What was your answer? And did she say anything more after that?"
"I told her my name. She seemed very happy."
Sigrid recalled the situation at the time, then continued the story.
"After that, she wanted to tell me her name as a courtesy, but... she seemed to have already forgotten her former name."
Fran gave a slight nod, unsurprised.
"Quite normal. Many AIs lose information through years of chaotic erosion. But for one whose self-awareness is almost hollowed out... probably not much useful data remains."
"After all, it's an antique from the Dark Age of Technology."
That said, she was still very interested in this AI showing signs of awakening. Perhaps related to the STC module connection.
"No need to worry about risks, Sigrid. Generally speaking, she holds no malice towards 'humans.' Moreover, you behaved very politely, which is a very important plus..."
Fran paused slightly, then delivered the second half.
"And, the storage cabinet she's in is completely isolated from the outside world. Even if she truly had descended into madness, there are no weapons for her to use. But if it really came to that... I'd format her."
Hearing this, Sigrid felt somewhat reassured; at least this AI lady posed no threat.
In fact, she could sense that hesitant yet cautious feeling when the other made contact with her.
As for Sigrid herself, she preferred to believe this AI was friendly.
Dr. Fran said AIs generally hold no malice towards "humans." But... could she still be called human?
Even though Fran's guidance had helped Sigrid emerge from the shadow left by the Final Program, thinking of this still caused a faint dimness to flash unnoticed in her eyes.
"Thinking of something unpleasant?"
Fran, looking at the half-braided plait near her temple in the mirror, couldn't help but chuckle.
As Norlington's best psychologist, she never ignored the emotional changes of those around her. And Sigrid's emotions were especially easy to understand.
"No..."
Not wanting the doctor to worry about her, Sigrid explained somewhat flustered.
"Don't conceal illness for fear of treatment, okay? Sigrid."
Fran maintained a gentle smile, then raised a slender index finger, placing it vertically between the lips of the person before her.
"Humans are like this; from the moment of birth, they never stop doubting their own 'existence.'"
"As Pascal said, man is a thinking reed. Even if form changes, the carrier is replaced, your innermost essence remains no different from the beginning. Don't doubt the fact that you are 'human.'"
"I think, therefore I am."
Hearing this, Sigrid's molten gold gaze flickered slightly. It took a moment before she remembered to respond.
"Yes... Thank you for your guidance, Dr. Fran."
She gave a slight nod, sincerely expressing gratitude to the doctor before her.
Dr. Fran seemed to always possess a meticulous sharpness, able to detect the emotional fluctuations of those around her.
And her counsel was equally precise and effective. In just a few words, perhaps before the other person even realized it, the dust and haze rising in their emotions had been brushed away.
This made Sigrid feel a unique kind of "care." Though elusive and hard to pinpoint, it was tangibly present.
Perhaps that was this doctor's way of expressing kindness.
At the same time, the terminal on her person quickly flashed a few times of light. As if contemplating the doctor's words just now.
...A moment later, Sigrid had finished braiding the plait.
Fran looked at her neatly arranged pale hair in the mirror, then raised her hand to lightly gather it.
"If she shows signs of awakening again later, feel free to communicate more. Since she has no name... you could give her one."
"Hmm."
Sigrid agreed to Fran's instruction, her expression already bright again.
"...If that lady is willing."
Fran slowly rose from the seat at the dressing table, then patted her cheeks to dispel the lingering sleepiness.
...
On Fog Street, a blurred figure passed through the wind and snow, gradually appearing in the thin mist outside the street.
Her black nun's habit also billowed and fluttered with the passing cold wind, making a flapping sound.
Exhaling a wisp of white mist, Haida pushed open the door and entered Fog Street Clinic.
The first thing that met her eyes was Fran sitting properly on the sofa, drinking hot chocolate.
"Good day, Dr. Fran."
Seeing Haida arrive, she stood up, picked up another porcelain cup still emitting steaming hot vapor, and handed it to the nun still at the entrance.
"Welcome, dear Sister Haida."
"Sorry you had to come to the clinic in this weather. Although it's not as cold as last month recently, the snow still shows no sign of stopping... Have a cup of freshly brewed hot chocolate."
"This time, Sigrid got the heat just right; she didn't melt the cup, see?"
"...Thank you."
Haida was already accustomed to this doctor's routine hospitality.
She didn't refuse, just steadily took the floral porcelain teacup, blew away the steam, and took a sip.
"So, when do we depart?"
Fran didn't engage in much unnecessary small talk, directly asking Haida about the upcoming itinerary. When dealing with Secret-Hunters, efficiency was often as important as content.
The nun had come precisely for this. She put down the porcelain cup and began explaining the arrangements.
"Anytime is fine, Dr. Fran. My quarterly transfer order to Gormouth has been issued. If you have no other matters to attend to... we can depart now."
——
Abyssal Sea, Leviathan.
This was a large steamship painted deep gray, powered by an arcane core produced by the White Cup Cult.
Although its service age wasn't considered long, many dents could be seen on the metal hull. Most looked like bullet impacts, and a small portion... resembled scratches from sharp teeth or hooks.
Of course, the majority of obvious marks had been repaired or whole sections replaced.
At this moment, Fran was standing on the corridor outside her ship cabin, feeling the sea breeze.
Haida stood quietly beside her, gray-brown eyes fixed on the boundless dark waves. Her entire person resembled an obsidian statue.
Although Norlington was still snowing, the temperature gradually rose after entering the sea, and even the wind blowing on her face no longer carried a biting chill.
"Ladies, are you accustomed to being on the ship?"
With a deep male voice, Professor Utus gradually approached the two.
Oh, although he was a genuine professor of Oceanography, this guy lacked any of the refined and cultured temperament of other White Cup Error-Purgers. If anything, probably no one on this ship looked more like a sailor than him.
Of course, the word "looked" itself was inaccurate, because Utus was a sailor... and the first mate of this ship.
"Fine, nothing to feel uncomfortable with. And the facilities here are very complete, not much different from land."
Haida turned to look at Utus, offering a response.
As a Burial Attendant, she possessed extraordinary tolerance for harsh environments. And this ship's environment was far from bad, not reaching a level requiring special adaptation.
The Leviathan was generally used by the White Cup Cult for escorting important personnel or fixed-point cruises, thus equipped with many daily life facilities, almost equivalent to a small cruise ship.
This allowed even ordinary people with no sailing experience to quickly adapt to life at sea.
"Heh..."
Hearing Haida's description of "not much different from land," Utus couldn't help but grin, showing a smile.
"Our Cult has done considerable research in this area. If this were a ship from thirty years ago, everyone would be gnawing on rotten potatoes together. And the entire journey would be extended almost two-fold."
"As for now... those academics even opened observation windows on the ship for watching dolphins."
In reality, he also knew worrying these two would feel discomfort was somewhat unnecessary.
First, the suspected current Medicae Primus, Dr. Fran—worrying such an existence would get seasick was like worrying a siren would choke on water while singing. As for Sister Haida... that was another story altogether.
A century ago, some regions had superstitions about "women not allowed on ships." But if it was a Burial Attendant... no one would care about the previous taboo.
Forget gender distinctions; these hunters weren't even very human-like. Having one on board indeed greatly enhanced the ship's safety. Pirates would have to steer clear.
"Well, I won't disturb you two further; I'll return to work. Dinner will be delivered directly to your rooms. If you have other needs, call a steward."
After completing the ceremonial greetings, Utus returned inside the ship's cabin.
Actually, the Secret-Hunters Cult didn't necessarily have to use White Cup ships; they also controlled many shipping companies originally belonging to the Meredith family.
But the General Affairs Division considered the Leviathan's safety to be higher. After all, a White Cup Professor of Oceanography was responsible for security.
And this ship's captain... was a White Cup honorary professor. Nifel Germilton.
He had never taught at Norlington Central Academy, but in terms of understanding the Abyssal Sea, probably no one in the world could compare... could be called a living legend of the Abyssal Sea.
Fran propped her cheek with one hand, her expression almost bored.
Completely monotonous, unchanging scenery did get tiresome after a while. Thinking of this, she began conversing with Haida beside her.
"Hmm... Speaking of which, I happened to meet a navigator during yesterday's house call."
"Was he your patient?"
Haida obviously knew Fran had a house call on the last day of each quarter, so she was somewhat curious about her specific encounters.
"No. And the second time I saw him, he was already dead."
Fran recalled the guy whose knees she shattered twice. The first emotion that surfaced was actually guilt... probably because breaking the same knee twice was somewhat too cruel.
"Then who needed treatment?" With nothing better to do, Haida pressed for details of the house call.
"A wealthy Count. Hmm... but he also died."
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