"Why didn't you tell me about this sooner, young master?" Cooper asked after finally calming down, his voice still trembling faintly from the storm of emotions he had just endured.
"There are two possible outcomes when one experiences an event that drowns them in sorrow," Ray began, his tone calm and measured, as though he were reciting an unshakable truth.
"The first is that they harness that grief—or whatever emotion has consumed them—and channel it to push themselves further towards their goals. The second is that they collapse under the weight of despair, and that despair festers into a poison within their hearts. In your case, it was the former. But even then, there is a limit to how far grief can carry you. Once it has served its purpose, it becomes useless… and that is why I had to remove it."
Cooper's face twisted with anguish. "But… I tried to kill your daughter," he cried, his voice cracking under the burden of guilt.
"If she were to die on the mission I had assigned her to, then the blame would rest on me, wouldn't it?" Ray answered, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
His words carried a chilling matter-of-factness. "Now get up. We don't have much time, and you have a great deal to catch up on at the academy."
"…What about Iris?" Cooper asked, quickly turning to look behind him—but the woman he sought was already gone, her presence erased as though she had never been there.
"Oh, she has to die," Ray said, smiling again, though this time the curve of his lips carried a shadow—something almost sinister. "She saw my face through the hologram. I can't allow such a variable to slip free. Illya is pursuing her, so leave it be."
"…Alright… Wait a minute." Cooper hesitated, his brows furrowing as a sudden thought struck him. "I never asked, but… how do you even have a daughter? You're only seventeen. Don't take offence, but… you shouldn't have—"
"She isn't my biological daughter, you idiot," Ray cut in sharply, his sigh full of irritation at the naive assumption.
"Then why let her call you 'father'?" Cooper pressed, confusion written across his face.
Ray's eyes softened with warmth. "When I was younger, I wanted a perfect executioner. Someone flawless. But as time passed, I realized something important... machines that follow commands without question can never understand what it means to be human. They cannot suffer, and without suffering, they cannot grow. So, when I created her, I ensured she would always remain human, even within a vessel that lacked flesh. To suffer is to live, and without suffering, how could one ever claim to be human?"
He paused, his voice edged with conviction. "Without it, she would be nothing more than a machine that obeyed orders, with no thought or intellect of her own."
"Then… she is a part of your great work," Cooper said quietly, the weight of Ray's words sinking into him. "She must be grateful."
"For what?" Ray asked, turning his head slightly.
"For the curious gift of humanity," Cooper replied.
————————
Ray's perspective:
————————
As I withdrew my hologram, Cooper's words lingered in my mind. I wasn't sure if that was truly how she saw me… but still, it wasn't unpleasant.
"Do you think she is grateful, Ryuk?" I asked, lowering myself into the chair beside my desk. From the drawer, I pulled out a bottle of red roselet wine, its rich fragrance spilling into the air as soon as I uncorked it.
"A child's heart is a fragile thing—always fixated on the single tether that gives their life meaning," Ryuk replied, his voice carrying its usual calm weight. "For her, that tether is you. But… I may be wrong. After all, I once assumed you were genuinely oblivious to Cooper's intentions."
He landed softly on the desk as I poured two glasses of the crimson liquid.
"That's a separate matter," I said lightly, handing him his glass while keeping my own. "Don't you remember the saying? To fool others, one must first fool oneself." I allowed a sly smile to cross my lips. "I just happen to be an exceptionally convincing actor."
At my words, Ryuk's form began to shift. His crow body shuddered with a glow of deathly miasma, feathers dissolving into a smoke-like haze. In his place emerged his true form—tattered, flowing robes of deep indigo that moved as though stirred by an unseen current. Resting heavily on his shoulders was a massive crow skull, far too large to belong to any bird of nature, its hollow sockets staring blankly into the world.
It had been some time since he revealed himself like this. Perhaps even Ryuk couldn't resist the wine.
"A pleasant surprise, I must admit," Ryuk said, his tone carrying the faintest hint of amusement as he raised the glass. The skeletal fingers of his hand curled delicately around the stem, as if mocking refinement. "Tell me—will you be participating in the competition?"
"I have no interest in that," I answered, taking a slow sip, letting the sharp sweetness of the wine linger on my tongue. "If I were to join, too many unnecessary variables would emerge—variables I'd have to dispose of later. I'd rather not waste my time. My focus must remain on the metamorphosis phase."
"Isn't it a bad time to enter metamorphosis," Ryuk asked. "With the Five Major Families, Paragon, and the League of Hunters all declaring war on the cults? What are you planning to do about that?"
I set my glass down and watched the wine catch the light—red like a map stained with future battles. "I have a way to handle it," I said, voice low and deliberate. "The war will be fought away from the training planets. They'll pull the front away from where we train; in effect, they hand me uncontested control of Earth for a few months."
I let the idea hang between us like smoke. "Yes, I will have to join the hunt in name. But I've positioned every member of Eden exactly where I need them to be. Even if I am not physically present on Earth, those months will be enough—ample time to move pawns, to seed accounts, to place people where decisions will bend to our favor."