The streets have yet to fully awake when the first light of dawn breaks through. There is still an hour until your second meeting with Dr. Witte.
You check your terminal to confirm the meeting location Nirvatia arranged, completely unaware of the blue-purple hem of a dress silently approaching from behind. Suddenly, a cool sensation brushes against your neck.
Turning around, you find a woman with dark blue hair standing in the gentle sunlight, the corner of her lips curled into a smile, as if it wasn't her who just greeted you with her cold gauntlet.
Did you sleep well, little raven?
Sleep is the most essential method of self-care, and the Task Force must have its own insights on getting adequate rest amid a busy schedule. When we have time later, I'd like to learn more from you.
Is it because you're stressed, or...?
The female Construct brushes aside a lock of hair near her temple, her voice carrying a soothing tone.
Rather than apologizing for dragging you into this mess, I'd rather say: let's hold on a little longer together. There will come a time when we can rest without worry.
Now, I didn't ask to meet you at this bakery just to chat outside the entrance. Let's go in.
Pushing open the door, you step into what feels like a small lake of sweetness. The comforting aroma of baked goods fills the air, while the rich fragrance of caramel and butter dances through the space, embracing hungry visitors in its warm welcome.
The small shop has limited space, with three display cabinets dominating the interior. Atop them sits a row of patterned tin containers, their distinctive designs strikingly similar to the cookie tins Nirvatia described yesterday.
Proper provisions produce more dedicated work, wouldn't you agree?
You pick up a tray and follow behind Nirvatia, letting her choose the items to put on it. Then, the two of you take seats facing each other at a small wooden table by the window.
In her black-feathered dress, Nirvatia rests her elbows on the small table, gently placing her chin atop her crossed fingers. A glimmer of anticipation flickers in her eyes as she watches you fork a square piece of apple pie and bring it to your mouth.
The pie crust is dense yet tender, and the filling contains no cinnamon. From appearance to taste, this apple pie is like no other made on Babylonia.
It's a Carthakian apple pie recipe.
The shop owner was neither born on Babylonia nor has he ever visited Carthaki, his mother's homeland. He's a man of few words who knows nothing about me, yet he understood the tears that fell when I took my first bite.
Constructs don't need food to survive, yet flavors anchor my memories, connecting moments and people across time...
She reaches out, her ink-dark fingertip brushing against your lower lip, tracing its contour before gently removing a small crumb of pastry.
Now, you too have become part of this flavor's memory.
There's so much more I wish to share with you. Look forward to it.
Nirvatia responds with a smile, gesturing toward the row of jars on the counter.
For now... I noticed it too. I only realized yesterday that the almond cookies Lenore always kept on her desk are made by this very bakery.
Fate always offers more than just a few coincidences.
Why don't we buy a jar for Dr. Witte as well? After all, familiar things can sometimes unlock a heart more easily than new information.
The human heart is the most elusive thing... but we must still make every effort to try.
It's still early, giving you plenty of time to finish breakfast at your leisure. Nirvatia and you rise from your seats and approach the counter, where you ring the brass bell.
A tall man with flour still sprinkled on his face lifts the curtain and emerges from the bakery's kitchen in the back.
Excuse me. We'd like the apple pie, croissant, and cannoli we just had, plus a jar of almond cookies to go.
And a jar of assorted cookies as well, to be delivered to my residence.
The shop owner nods, retrieves an empty jar, and hands each of you your receipt.
The female Construct taps the receipt twice and opens the cookie cabinet.
You can select the assorted cookies yourself. As for my teatime treat, I'll leave the flavors to your discretion.
Hah, then the teacup I prepared especially for you will come in handy now. I was planning to tell you about it later.
Blueberry, chocolate, lemon butter... With each careful selection, you gradually fill the jar with cookies of vibrant flavors.
The Construct with wing-like skirt leans against the wall, watching you intensely. Glimpsing her from the corner of your eye, you see her expression melting into a tenderness and contentment you have never seen before in the golden sunlight.
Preparations complete. Time to meet Dr. Complicated, our emotionally conflicted witness.
With tranquil surroundings and no onlookers in sight, Nirvatia steps forward, links her arm with yours, and takes the lead in pushing open the bakery door.
The wind chime tinkles gently. You catch a glimpse of the blush spreading across her cheeks, and without a word, you quietly tighten your linked arms.
Dr. Witte's Home
Babylonia
The moment the host opens the door, Nirvatia and you exchange a silent glance.
With dark circles under his eyes, the man before you clearly hasn't slept all night. He breathes slowly but heavily, squinting and scanning left and right behind you before speaking in a hushed voice.
No one followed you here, right?
Not this time. Rest assured, my CUB is controlling the surveillance footage of this entire block.
Yeah... come in.
The apartment is dim, with curtains drawn tight against any outside light. Witte slumps onto the living room sofa, bracing his arms on his thighs. His head hanging low, he gestures limply toward the couch across from him.
You gently place the cookie tin you have been carrying onto the coffee table. The soft clink of metal against glass pulls the man's attention back to the present.
Witte's gaze fixes on the floral pattern of the tin. His breath halts briefly, and his hands slowly clench together in a rigid grip.
...It's from that shop. Lenore... she used to buy these all the time.
Nirvatia doesn't respond. She simply projects the hidden document calmly.
Witte's own name reflects in his bloodshot eyes.
"I gift you my tears-forged arrows, awaiting the verdict of your heart"... Even her code is written with such poetic flair.
Or perhaps she was seeking poetic justice... a dramatic tale where good is rewarded and evil punished. Fruitless in life, yet relentless in death.
Lenore placed you first on her scales of justice. Perhaps in her final moments, you were still the first person on her mind.
Witte presses his forehead against his clasped hands as if this is the only way to support the weight of his head. After a long silence, he looks up, his eyes awash with both pain and fear.
What if... what if placing weights on the scales still isn't enough?
Lenore is dead. Nothing we do will bring her back. But what happens to her reputation if we lose this case? Her name will be erased from all research papers. She'll be branded a madwoman, a traitor...
As for me, Professor Walden will destroy my career. What about my lifelong dreams? What happens to my parents, who have always been so proud of me?
Is every choice I make destined to be wrong?
Silence hangs like a heavy curtain, enveloping the room.
...
Nirvatia's fingers tighten almost imperceptibly atop her knee. Her words carry weight because they're true, and she herself has never backed down under pressure.
These marks won't become vulnerabilities as long as you grip something tightly—whether it's a terminal, a weapon, or... someone's hand.
Glory is blinding, and miasmas can be suffocating. Staying true to one's heart means going through the narrow door off the beaten path... Long before your paths converged at that research institute, Nirvatia and you had already understood this truth.
You both wandered and struggled on your separate battlefields, paid your prices, and journeyed tirelessly through starlit nights until you finally stand side by side—this is a precious bond that only you truly understand.
Therefore, whether beneath a burning golden tree, amid raining fire, or in a cramped meeting room before just a handful of people, she and you would always make the same choice.
The Construct in the black-feathered dress looks deep into your eyes, as two idealists hold each other tight.
Glory is blinding, and miasmas can be suffocating. Staying true to one's heart means going through the narrow door off the beaten path... Long before your paths converged at that research institute, Nirvatia and you had already understood this truth.
You both wandered and struggled on your separate battlefields, paid your prices, and journeyed tirelessly through starlit nights until you finally stand side by side—this is a precious bond that only you truly understand.
Therefore, whether beneath a burning golden tree, amid raining fire, or in a cramped meeting room before just a handful of people, she and you would always make the same choice.
The Construct in the black-feathered dress looks deep into your eyes, as two idealists find each other.
Dr. Witte, this is a promise between you and Lenore. Anything an outsider says might feel cruel and presumptuous.
In this world, there is only one heart with the right to answer you, and that's your own.
The soul-searching pain never eases, even when days, weeks, or decades have passed. The fact you're willing to sit with us, look at this list, and discuss right from wrong suggests your heart has already given you its answer.
Under Nirvatia's watchful gaze, you pick up the cookie jar from the table, open it, and offer it to Witte.
The sweet fragrance of bygone days drifts through the air.
...
The haggard man lowers his gaze toward the cookies in the jar.
With trembling shoulders, he reaches out, takes a cookie, and places it in his mouth, slowly chewing as he closes his eyes.
Tears slide down his exhausted face.
They still taste good.
He roughly wipes his reddened eyes with the back of his hand as if steeling himself. His voice rises from deep within, carrying a clarity born of burned bridges.
I'm sorry for driving you away last time. I... I was just taking out my anger on you.
Seeing you two, I can't help but think... if only I had stood by Lenore more firmly, more courageously back then, like how this commandant stands by you...
Would she have felt so alone that she chose to take her own life?
He takes a deep breath and shakes his head.
It's all too late now... I can never catch up to her anymore. But if I don't even try, I'll never be able to forgive myself.
When she gave me that string of characters, I never imagined it would be her final request.
He pulls out a necklace from beneath his collar, opens the pendant, and removes a tiny chip from inside, handing it to you.
You insert the chip into the terminal, letting it load and be analyzed. Nirvatia's crystalline red eyes remain fixed on the string of characters that appears.
The format, index count, naming convention... This is a test sample ID.
Lenore's whistleblower report only informed us of the batch numbers. With this specific ID, we can precisely locate and retrieve the individual sample with the evidence.
—Which means more than one ID.
Is our reasoning correct, Dr. Witte?
That's right.
I have a private comms channel with others, which we set up right after what happened to Lenore. Let me convince them to help—we've... all been silent for too long.
The Security Director of the Science Council gives him a solemn nod.
Thank you for fighting with us. We'll take care of retrieving the evidence from here.
Nirvatia opens the test sample tracking system and rapidly inputs the ID. Both she and Dr. Witte find themselves holding their breath as they wait.
The search result appears, and Nirvatia crosses her arms as she studies the map.
Hmm... I have good news and bad news.
The bad news is that the testing ground where the samples are stored isn't just sealed off due to previous attacks. There are also alerts for berserk mechanoids.
Her red eyes narrow as coldness seeps through every word she speaks.
The alert was suppressed by some subordinate department, so the Science Council never received it.
Heh, looks like I have something for the Control Court's quarterly report.
The good news is that even Walden wouldn't dare meddle directly at the site given how dangerous it is.
If this case were handled by one of their usual "chess partners," it would be all too easy for it to get lost in excuses like cost and interdepartmental arrangement, vanishing within the bureaucratic pipeline.
Well said, little raven. Let's show them who we really are.
The Construct in the black-feathered skirt rises, her smile growing sharper as she changes the subject.
But before we venture into danger...
Follow me. The Security Director needs to give her partner a com-pre-hen-sive security upgrade.
