I tensed instantly as I analyzed the perimeter.
No windows. A single entrance. Twelve crystal-rock mirrors emitting a constant frequency—a subtle vibration that made my teeth chatter from pure resonance. This wasn't a guest chamber; it was a scalpel-less operating room, designed to dissect whatever the flesh tried to hide.
I took my seat slowly on one of the two carved wooden chairs. Elara mirrored my movement, sitting across from me with a trained grace that made even the simple act of sitting look like a strategic maneuver.
We were alone. She had ordered everyone to remain outside. Percy had tried to protest, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, but a single glance from the princess reduced him to obedient silence.
Our gazes met. It wasn't a courteous exchange—it was a collision of forces. Her eyes were glaciers forged from a thousand frozen seas; yet, for a brief instant, behind the permafrost, I glimpsed liquid water still flowing deep beneath the ice.
"Tetsuo," she began after two minutes of silence sharp enough to cut steel. Her tone was calm—almost too calm. "I know you're confused. You're probably wondering why the princess of this kingdom would take an interest in someone like you."
I didn't answer. I held her gaze, letting the silence serve as permission for her to continue.
"I am merely someone who seeks the well-being of her people," she explained softly, interlacing her fingers atop the table. "If something beyond your understanding were to appear out of nowhere… something that defies all the laws of this world…"
She stopped abruptly. Her pupils dilated by barely a millimeter—a stress response my sensors caught instantly.
"Tell me," she whispered, lowering her eyes for a second. "What would you do? Would you neutralize the threat immediately to eliminate the risk, or…?"
Suddenly, before I could even process the movement, she reached out and grabbed my hand on the table, pulling me closer until her face was inches from mine. I could feel the cold radiating from her skin. Her expression held restrained urgency—almost pain.
"…Or would you try to analyze it, to understand it better… and perhaps help it?"
"Careful, 03," Julian hissed at the back of my mind, his voice sharp with lethal suspicion. "That is not the look of compassion. That is the gaze of a collector who has found a unique artifact in a junkyard. Her heart rate is stable. She's manipulating you."
"Let her speak, Tetsu," Silas intervened, his voice echoing softly. "She's afraid of what lies beneath the castle. She thinks you're either the key… or the lock."
I felt the warmth of her hand against mine—a violent contrast to the cold of the room. For the first time since arriving in Eryndor, I didn't know what the correct answer was.
I tried to analyze my response, searching for the word Julian would deem "efficient," but my internal processor stalled. The warmth of her hand was causing interference—biological, not electrical.
"I…" I started, but my voice broke.
At that moment, the mirrors' frequency shifted. The sharp hum turned into a crystalline chime, like distant laughter trapped in time. The crystal-rock walls began to glow—but they reflected neither us nor the darkness of the chamber.
The mirrors became windows into another time.
I saw the castle garden—not under snow, but covered in crystal flowers glowing beneath a spring sun. A thirteen-year-old Elara, her hair less rigidly styled, ran across the grass. Chasing her was a seven-year-old Lyaris, much smaller, cheeks flushed with effort, clutching a stuffed cat I recognized instantly.
Mr. Whiskers. The original.
"Wait, Elara!" young Lyaris shouted, laughing with a purity that hurt to hear. "Don't run so fast!"
"You have to be fast, Lyaris!" teenage Elara replied, stopping to extend her hand—the same hand now gripping mine. "An ice mage must be as swift as the blizzard!"
I froze. My eyes darted between the memory and the woman before me. The emotional weight was suffocating. They hadn't always been princess and outcast. They had been sisters of the soul.
"Dissonance detected," Julian muttered, his voice strangely subdued—almost respectful. "A social structure based on affection is… illogical. However, it explains Subject Lyaris's resistance to abandoning you. An anomaly of loyalty."
"Look closely, Tetsu," Silas whispered, and I felt his sadness. "That's what they took from us at the Institute. That's what we never had."
Elara didn't break eye contact with me, but I saw her eyes glisten as the reflections danced across the walls. The urgency on her face shifted into something deeper.
Regret.
"That broke, Tetsuo," she said quietly, tightening her grip on my hand. "The world grew cold. And now, something is trying to slip through the cracks of that cold. The flash you saw… it wasn't just energy. It was a call."
She released my hand abruptly, as if the contact burned. The mirrors went dark, plunging the chamber back into shadow.
"I'll ask you one last time," she said, her icy mask returning. "Are you the cure for this broken world… or the poison that will finish destroying it?"
I wiped away a drop of blood forming beneath my nose. Seeing her memories had overloaded my sensors.
"I don't know," I answered honestly, meeting her gaze. "But if you want to understand what I am, you'll have to look at me—not as a princess, but the way that girl did in the garden. Because where I come from, tools don't have memories. And I… just saw one that doesn't belong to me."
Elara fell silent, processing my words. For the first time, the "weapon" had struck back—not with steel, but with truth.
She let out a quiet sigh and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hands, brushing away what looked like specks of dust—or perhaps moisture her pride refused to acknowledge.
"Very well," she said, regaining composure, though authority still trembled beneath her voice. "But don't think I'll trust you easily, Tetsuo."
She shot me one last icy glance. It was the same cold as before—but now it didn't repel me. After seeing that garden, her distrust felt comforting. Real. Protective.
I offered her a small smile—awkward, imperfect, untrained.
"Three-millimeter muscular deviation to the right," Julian murmured, without his usual venom. "However… the expression projects acceptable resolve. One might call it… the pinnacle of organic perfection, 03."
"Look at him, Julian," Silas laughed. "Tetsu's learning how to use his face for something other than absorbing punches."
"Well," I said, standing up, keeping that smile, "I trust you."
I paused.
"Not because I must. Not because my sensors say you're safe."
Another pause—this one deliberate.
"I trust you because I want to. And because, for the first time in my life, I can choose who I am."
Elara froze, lips parted slightly, as if my words had frozen the air in a way her magic never could. In a world of royalty and duty, personal choice was as alien as my implants.
"You're an idiot," she muttered—but it sounded less like an insult and more like surrender.
She stood and smoothed her midnight-blue dress.
"Your integration begins tomorrow. If you're to be our 'cure,' you'll first need to learn how not to shatter at Eryndor's first breeze. Sir Perceval will escort you to your guest quarters."
She stopped at the door, her voice suddenly sharper.
"And if you smile like that at a guard again, you'll probably be arrested for suspicious behavior. That's a very strange smile for someone without a soul."
The door opened, flooding the room with corridor light—and revealing Percy, who looked suspiciously like he'd been listening the entire time.
"Sir Perceval, take him to the guest room," Elara ordered quickly before leaving. My sensors detected a 2% drop in her gait efficiency. Her steps weren't as steady anymore.
Percy saluted, watching the princess disappear with a mix of devotion and doubt. Then he spun toward me.
"What did you do to the Princess!? Why is she acting like that!?" he hissed.
"Nothing out of the ordinary," I replied calmly. "Just a diplomatic discussion."
As we passed a side corridor, my vision locked onto a large painting. A dark-haired knight stood tall, radiating controlled brute strength.
Oswin. Twenty years younger.
Beside him stood a serene woman with red curls like a ripe apple—and a crown.
Oswin and a queen.
That explained many things… and complicated others.
"This is your room," Percy announced.
The bed was absurdly soft.
As sleep finally claimed me, two voices pierced my consciousness.
"Tetsu~," Silas sang playfully. "The night is young. There's an interesting event in one of the near futures… and you wouldn't want to miss it."
"Inefficient, 03," Julian sighed. "Avoiding action due to minor interrogation fatigue demonstrates structural weakness."
I sighed into the silk pillow.
"Great," I muttered. "The book club has decided I'm not sleeping tonight."