Once I left the Coliseum
I walked down the street and noticed the stares.Creating the «CI-Mask» had been a flawless idea. After these preliminary rounds, I'd undoubtedly attract unwanted attention.
"Fine, let the Abuser take the blame… not me."
I strode confidently. The sun was just reaching its zenith, the sky was clear, and in the distance I could hear the roar of the waves. But my moment was cut short by the pop-up of my assistant:
[Master… what about your concern? ( °︹° )]
—"What concern?"
[The butterfly effect you're causing. Remember, I only hold 60% of general data… it could become useless if you keep meddling like this. (٥↼_↼)]
—"Quincy, I've reached a conclusion… To hell with the programmers and scenario writers!"
[Why? (●'⌓'●)]
—"Because that's what Arcade is for. They'll have to fix their narrative messes because of me… but that's not my problem. I plan to sink that damned company."
Quincy jumped at the chance to scold me.
[Okay, evil master… so now you feel fine? You don't feel the slightest bit of shame? (─.─||)]
—"Again with the Coliseum? What's done is done."
[I still don't understand why you pulled such a stupid stunt, master. (ಠಿ_ಠ)]
—"Was it really that bad?"
[Master, if cringe had a scale, you broke it. (╥̃ ᴗ╥̃)👌]
—"Alright, listen Quincy… I'll tell you a secret. Can you keep it?"
[Of course, master, I'm listening. (☆▽☆)]
—"In the real world… my old appearance… I was basically model material. Blue eyes, blond hair, good features."
[And what does that have to do with the idiocy you pulled? (◉‿◉)]
—"That's exactly it… everyone assumed that being attractive meant I had to act serious, mysterious, interesting. But that's not me. Sure, I had—still have—layers. But above all, I just want to be myself."
[What are you trying to say, master? (O_o)]
—"I mean that just because you look a certain way doesn't mean you can't be smart… or dumb. I hate feeling like I'm just another copy."
[So basically, master: you want to feel special? ¯\_( ͡° ͟ʖ͡° )_/¯]
—"No, it's more than that."
[Then you mean… you don't like being judged by appearances? (.•̃ ₒ•̃.)]
—"No… yes. I knew I was attractive. I just want to live my life my own way—unique, original. To feel like I don't imitate anyone. And to know the way I live leaves a mark on those around me."
[In other words, you don't want to be forgotten? (. ಠ - ಠ .)]
—"No… everyone gets forgotten. People who are remembered in history are tied to their deeds, or a single event."
[Master, I don't get it… (°-°)]
I sighed, looking up at the sun overhead. I closed my eyes, and despite the «CI-Mask», I felt its warmth on my skin. It made me feel… alive. I glanced at Quincy's pink screen and said:
—"I mean human warmth… their essence… the thing that made them unique. That's what the world forgets."
[So… what did you mean to do with that ridiculous stunt? (ب_ب)]
—"Nothing."
[Nothing!? That makes no sense! Master, do you have some kind of mental disorder? (╬⁽⁽ ⁰ ⁾⁾ Д ⁽⁽ ⁰ ⁾⁾)]
—"No. Quincy, I was tested back in high school."
[And what did those tests show? (⊙_◎)]
—"That my hippocampus was 18% larger than average, and my prefrontal cortex 25% expanded."
[So your brain was abnormal? (・o・)]
—"You could say that… but biologically, it just meant I had an ideal brain for analysis and data processing."
[So biologically speaking… my master is a genius? (ꈍᴗꈍ)]
—"Well, yes and no… my grades weren't stellar because of my damn essential tremor. Doctors suspected the condition was linked to my unusual brain."
[But master, what does that have to do with the Coliseum, if you had no real motivation? (●__●)]
—"Not everything has to make sense, Quincy… Even small, pointless actions can mean a lot to someone else."
[Then what did motivate you? (;ŏ﹏ŏ)]
—"To put it simply… because I thought it'd be fun. A reminder of old times."
[I don't get it… I still don't get it! (≧Д≦)]
—"Well, I'm tired of explaining. That's enough."
[Ahhh!! Who could ever understand humans!? (┛◉Д◉)┛彡┻━┻)]
—"Come on, it wasn't that bad to reflect a little, was it?"
[It's probably easier to invent a revolutionary mathematical theory than to explain human motives. (ToT)]
—"Enough talk, Quincy. We need to head to base."
[I'm not speaking to you for a while. Just call me when you need power management. (ರ╭╮ರ)]
—"Fine. I'll give you time to sort your circuits."
[Master is evil. (¤_¤)]
—"Plot the route, Quincy."
[Already plotted. Go on then, stupid master. (=.=)]
***
Gregorian Empire – Province of Ataxia Coastal City of Ataxia
The noonday bells tolled as Melissa, after running along the beach, reached the main street.
The sound of her sandals on the cobblestones echoed like a solemn beat. She wore the sacred robes of the priesthood, pure white, accentuating her figure.
The first to turn their heads were the fishmongers unloading their catch; their gazes froze on her in awe or hunger. Soon others stopped their work: some smirked with lust, others looked on in uneasy reverence, unsure whether to kneel or dare approach.
Even children paused their games, staring wide-eyed at the vision of black hair and emerald-green eyes.
The women frowned. Some glared with open anger, others with barely disguised envy. Melissa couldn't hear the whispered words, but she felt their sting in her back.
Though her chest tightened, Melissa lifted her chin and kept walking. Her steps were firm, but her heart pounded; she felt the weight of every gaze, every thought stripping her or condemning her.
The city's murmurs faded as she reached a modest wooden house, dried flowers hanging at its entrance. On a stone bench sat Nana, the blind old woman who had raised her. Her face lit up the instant she recognized those familiar steps.
—"Nana…" Melissa's voice trembled. She rushed forward and knelt before her.
She hugged her tightly, almost in tears.
—"Nana, I did it…" she whispered, her throat tight. "They declared me a priestess."
The frail yet steady hands of the old woman cupped Melissa's face. Noticing the absence of her veil, she smiled with tender warmth.
—"I always knew the goddess had chosen you, my child. Not for your beauty, but because your heart endured what would have broken mine."
Melissa buried her face in the woman's lap, unable to hold back her tears.
—"But they still look at me, Nana… as if I were a prize, a piece of meat."
Nana laughed softly, her voice rough as paper.
—"Let them look. The goddess's light sears the eyes of the impure. If they desire you, let desire consume them; if they envy you, let envy devour them. You keep walking, my Melissa. You are no longer only my child—you are the pride of the Temple of Ataxia."
Melissa pulled back, wiping her tears with her sleeve. Determination burned anew in her emerald eyes.
—"Then I'll keep walking, Nana. Even if they hate me. Even if they desire me."
The old woman nodded proudly.
—"That's the spirit. Now come inside—I made seaweed soup. The world can wait, but lunch can't."
For the first time that day, Melissa laughed, stepping into the house, the weight on her chest at last a little lighter.