SCHELVIA CITY (2126)'BURRIED TECHNOLOGIES IN CENTURIES BLOOM'

8th January 2116 (6:49 am • HOG-STein • MILITARY BASE • XERELIC LAB • ISOLATED ROOM (9-0)

...10 years ago...

The room was pure white, like a mountain of pillows stacked against the walls, even extending to the door that separated her from the outside world. Her violet eyes stared out soullessly at the small window embedded in the door.

*I was in a padded room.*

She sat cross-legged in the middle of the room. It felt as though time had stopped in this timeless prison, her innocent mind, which should have been filled with the warmth of loving memories, now consumed by the endless white... white... white... white... white.

Creak.

The padded door opened with a soft groan. A man, clad in a full hazmat suit-also white-entered. He carried a tray of food, a casket filled with snacks and pastries, as well as some papers and crayons.

"How was your sleep, Yoru? Did you follow the sleep schedule?"

The man spoke gently, his voice deep yet soft. As he approached her, his presence felt like that of someone who had been there many times before. Kneeling beside her, he settled the tray and other items onto the floor.

"Yoru?"

He called again, his voice tinged with wariness. His eyes scanned the fragile girl before him.

Her gaze slowly shifted, and her violet eyes locked with his. For a moment, the tension seemed to dissipate as she offered a genuine smile. She spoke softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Papa..."

She leaned forward, her arms wrapping around his neck, seeking something-warmth? Comfort? She wasn't sure. It was spontaneous, an instinct she couldn't control.

Her embrace tightened around him, but the man gently pulled back, his voice soft yet firm.

"...Yoru, it's not Papa. It's Uncle."

He reminded her, his gloved hand brushing against her back in a comforting gesture, though he didn't return the hug.

The girl's face fell slightly as she pulled away, her eyes searching his helmet. She studied him in silence before slowly pulling herself away. She scooted back, a tiny shift in her demeanor as she spoke quietly.

"...Okay... Uncle."

The man sighed, standing up to survey the room for anything that needed cleaning. There was nothing but her pillow and blanket scattered across the floor, no bed or mattress. She had slept on the padded floor.

Glancing around for a moment, he saw that there was nothing to clean. Perhaps another caretaker had already come to collect the trays and tidied the room before his arrival.

"...Hey... hey, Uncle."

The girl's voice called him back. He turned, his neck snapping toward her quickly. She was now sitting in a fetal position against the padded wall, drawing something on a sheet of paper with crayons she had brought earlier. She had turned her thigh into her makeshift desk, a childlike focus on her creation.

He arched an eyebrow at her, curiosity evident in his voice.

"What is it, Yoru?"

"...What happened? Why are you wearing those puffy clothes that cover you from head to toe?"

She asked softly, her curiosity and innocence apparent as her attention remained on her drawing, not even looking up at him as she spoke.

The man's eyes widened slightly, then he quickly regained his composure, fabricating an explanation.

"...I have a very bad disease, and I wear this suit to protect you from getting sick, so you don't catch anything from me."

"Disease?"

"Yes, a disease... a very deadly one."

He added, hoping this excuse would end the conversation. Instead, her eyes widened further in curiosity.

"...What is a disease?"

She asked innocently, her crayon hovering in mid-air as she turned to face him with her questions.

The man cursed himself for the slip, realizing that his explanation had only piqued her interest further.

"...A disease is when someone gets a fever, and their body hurts, aches... and it can spread to others. It's especially dangerous for kids, those with weak immune systems."

He spoke softly, hoping this explanation would satisfy her, and turned to glance at the padded door. He was eager to leave.

"...Uncle."

She called out again, her voice soft but insistent.

"What?"

The man stopped abruptly, standing a few feet from the door, his hand already on the handle. He glanced back at her over his shoulder.

Her violet eyes held a lingering gaze on him, her expression silent, as though she was trying to find something in his face before speaking softly.

"...The language book you gave me two weeks ago. I finished it. I can speak the language now."

The man's brow furrowed slightly as he paused, processing her words. Language book? It must have been another caretaker's idea.

Turning back toward her with a forced, but warm smile, he nodded.

"...Oh really? Well, good job, Yoru. I'm proud of you. Maybe you can teach me a word or two."

He spoke in a tone that was soft, but forced, trying to sound encouraging while clearly anxious to leave.

The girl's eyes narrowed as she stared at him, her gaze lingering longer than necessary, before she waved him off.

"Goodbye, Uncle."

He waved back, his smile thin, before opening the padded door with a soft click. The door closed with the familiar thud she had grown accustomed to, and the sound of the door being locked echoed from outside.

She wasn't fazed by the locked door. She had grown used to the isolation, the sterile, timeless atmosphere that surrounded her.

Her gaze returned to her unfinished drawing. A stick figure drawn in purple crayon stood next to another in orange. Small letters 'V' were written beneath them, with an arrow pointing between them.

She stared down at her creation in silence.

"Вы проделали... очень хорошую работу, моя госпожа..."

•(You've done... a very good job, my lady...)•

A voice spoke to her telepathically, but she took it casually, continuing her drawing. She spoke aloud in response.

"...После двух недель общения и с помощью словаря... я наконец понял, о чём ты говоришь... голос в моей голове."

•(...after two weeks of communicating and with the help of the dictionary language book... I finally understand what you're saying... the voice in my head.)•

The girl muttered softly, her focus still on her drawing.

"...Приятно наконец плыть на одном корабле... моя леди."

•(...nice to finally sail on the same boat... my lady.)•

"...Рад встрече и с тобой... голос в моей голове."

•(...nice to meet you too... my head voice.)•

She spoke innocently, unaware of what she was interacting with. But after two weeks of hearing this foreign language in her mind, she had grown accustomed to it. She had asked one of the hazmat-suited caretakers for a dictionary, and after learning it, she now understood the words more clearly.

"...Ты так тихо, моя леди... Что ты рисуешь?"

•(...you're so quiet, my lady... What are you drawing?)•

The voice asked, as if it were peering over her shoulder at her drawing.

"...Кучка странных людей."

•(...a bunch of weirdos.)•

"Это... палочка-человек."

•(That's... a stickman.)•

The figure sighed, seemingly amused yet with a touch of concern. It commented playfully.

"...Хотя выглядит странно."

•(...though it looks weird.)•

The girl remained silent, not responding.

The figure sighed again, speaking telepathically.

"...Тсс, какие шансы, что меня подберут с мастером, как ты... Годы... будут наполнены нашей связью... расти вместе, думаю... и смотреть, как ты становишься совершенным мастером для меня... Моя леди."

•(...sigh, what are the odds that I'll be paired with a master like you... The years... will be filled with our bond... growing together, I guess... and watching you grow into the perfect master for me... My lady.)•

The girl scoffed and rolled her eyes as she finished her drawing. Beneath the letter 'V' from earlier, she drew a key shape, placed between the two stick figures-the purple and orange ones.

"...Finished... Papa..."

She traced her finger over the completed drawing, particularly focusing on the orange stick figure and the key, her expression searching for something.

"...Какая печальная маленькая девочка... разве не так? Моя леди..."

•(...what a sad little girl... aren't you? My lady...)•