The photo seems to carry the driver back to that distant time once again.
Edward stayed in that museum for hours. Those few days, he looked so troubled, like he'd met a problem no one could ever solve.
Teddy's fingers curl slightly. She frowns and turns away, but the man's voice stops her.
I don't really know what that physicist did, but after leaving the museum, Edward seemed less dejected. I remember he said...
That scientist was gentle by nature. He never took reckless risks. He never thought himself especially gifted. He was like a tree, quietly absorbing nourishment over time, naturally growing new ideas.
Yet even so, in his lifetime he left behind a milestone, opening a new world for those who came after him.
I'm not a genius blessed by the gods. I have no ambition and no grand ideals. I simply don't want to disappoint anyone, so I work hard and always try to do better.
I never wanted to give up the quiet life I had. All I wished for was to sit peacefully in my room and spend time with my children.
But change had already come. I wanted to open a new door for my children. And really, if I didn't do something for them, who else would?
Life was already hard back then. I was just a young father, and honestly, it was tough to get by.
But... like Mr. Norman said, even if you don't have any special talent, you still have to be that "tree."
If something can't be done, why push yourself so hard to do it?
Huh?
You're such an idiot.
The transport driver suddenly realizes something and starts studying Teddy's hair and face carefully.
You...
Go on, keep loading the supplies.
The girl turns away. You quickly follow after her, leaving the confused transport crew behind.
She doesn't go far. She returns to Warehouse 10-43 and stands beneath the faded graffiti of Planck, now barely recognizable.
It's been so long since I last thought about him. He really was such a foolish father, so easy to trick...
A faint, resigned smile appears on her usually sharp face.
He was so naive. I was just a child back then. How could I possibly know what I truly liked? I was just good at doing everything.
Her smile fades. She exhales softly.
I was too young. I didn't know what I was doing, or why.
People called me the Norman family's pride, the hope of our lineage, a genius. But what I really cared about was the look of pride and affection in my father's and grandfather's eyes.
At the time, I couldn't even tell what those looks truly meant.
Your gentle gaze rests on her shoulders like an invisible embrace.
Sometimes I liked standing beside my grandfather more than listening to music with my father. I wanted to inherit and uphold what he called the Norman glory...
Until that very glory took my father's life.
Before my father died, my talent was something to be proud of, a reason to be loved. But death... death is an honest friend. It tears away all the comforting lies we tell ourselves.
In the Norman family, talent wasn't a gift. It was something you had to use to prove your worth. A tool that shackles you.
For a long time, I hated it. I hated this so-called talent that gave people a reason to use me, to hurt me.
But I couldn't live without it. Even now, I still can't.
For most people, family means warmth and strength. A place to rest and belong. But...
She bites down on the word "Norman," tasting it again and again before swallowing it.
There are so many things in this world that taste awful... but if you can swallow them, they help you grow... They turn a clueless child into a useful adult.
An open heart is placed before you without warning—scarred, fragile, dressed in what looks like ornament but is really damage. And it's precious, only because it never fully broke.
The flashy convertible now sits at the intersection, stuffed to the brim with cargo, looking anything but heroic.
After a moment of hesitation, the transport driver walks up to Teddy and hands her the photo of himself with Edward Norman.
We're heading out now. Here, Miss Norman, please take this. I'm sorry I didn't recognize you sooner.
You keep it. You've held onto it this long because it means something to you. His face is in my memory data anyway, clearer than any photograph.
...I'm sorry, I—
Don't be. You did nothing wrong.
Still, I think Edward would have wanted this photo to stay with his daughter. Look, I still have my old work ID from back then. That's my keepsake.
Huh? Of course. It's a memory of better days.
Working for Norman was the most peaceful time in my life. I missed those days, so... I could never throw the card away.
Even after things went bad, Leonardo, the one everyone thought unreliable, still managed to find us work. Just enough to get by.
Because of people like him, I still believe life will get better. Thank you, Miss Norman. Thank your family too.
Hearing the expected thanks, you gently rest your hand on Teddy's shoulder and give it a reassuring pat.
Realizing what you were really asking, she presses her lips together with a hint of resignation.
It has nothing to do with others. It's because you've kept trying. You're someone who works hard to live, and that's why fortune favors you.
Go now. The people at the conservation area are waiting for that medicine.
And let Edward Norman stay with you, traveling freely, helping people wherever he can. That kind of life... he would have liked it.
The transport driver hesitates for a moment, looks back at her one last time, and leaves with the photo still in his hands.
Were you trying to comfort me just now?
You don't actually think I'd still be sad about all this, do you?
Not at all, Commandant. I've already come to terms with it.
For as long as I live, I'll always rely on my talent. Whether it's protecting my family or fighting alongside my companions, it's the most dependable strength I have.
I haven't fought against myself in a long time. Once I learned to calm those strange little fixations in my mind, I could finally make peace with myself. In a way, I guess that means I've grown up.
But thank you. At least now I know... that the Norman name really did bring happiness to someone once.
Keeping a clear head, doing what I can, looking after everyone without overpushing myself...
If I can manage that, Father wouldn't worry anymore, right?
How did that little Christina become the Teddy today?
Those fears and doubts you could never share with your siblings... who did you tell them to?
When did the long nights of confusion and pain stop bringing you to tears?
You no longer hate yourself, but have you learned to like who you've become?
You've grown up, but have you truly healed?
The whimsical Teddy. The Teddy with so many hobbies, so much curiosity. The Teddy who never says what she really means...
Christina, the girl hidden behind the name Teddy—are you really okay?
The young woman pauses, then gently rests her head on your shoulder.
No, I'm not sad. I'm happy, Commandant.
She turns her head toward you, who have been quietly listening all along.
Commandant, I've never said this out loud to anyone, but... I really do like the life I have now.
A few fully loaded transport trucks pull out of the conservation area one after another. Their speeding wheels startle a flock of foraging white doves into flight. The resonance of wings and wind beats out a vivid rhythm—full of life, as if freedom might arrive in the very next second.
In that moment, Teddy feels at peace, as if her father has finally departed freely.
It's the doves.
The sound of their wings... that's a perfect sample. I'm going to record it and use it in my new song.
I won't be able to bring this song to the festival. But once we're back in Babylonia, I'll polish it up and make it better. At least the trip wasn't for nothing.
Instead of making a joke like she usually does, Teddy crosses her arms, hiding the faint shadow in her eyes. In her mind, she's already thought of ways to make up for it—small comforts to keep her spirits up.
You press a can of electrolyte drink into her hands, then turn toward the distribution center.
A heavy weight drops deep in her M.I.N.D., and Teddy instinctively reaches out, trying to grab your hand and stop you from going.
But your arm slips away before she can catch it. All she can do is watch as your figure grows smaller in the distance.
Tap tap tap—
Ripples shimmer in the air as Deerbear appears, beating a small military drum and propping its chin on its paw while watching you walk away.
Giving up on the festival so easily? Not like us at all.
Quiet...
See? You never wanted to go anyway. First you tampered with the cameras at the airport, and now you've just handed over the vehicle without a second thought...
You just came for the electrolyte drink. Drink it and scram. And stop making things up.
Deerbear pouts, taking tiny sips of the cherry-flavored drink—her favorite.
I can feel it. You're anxious. Why? The Commandant went to fix things. Shouldn't that make you happy?
You know I'm only a reflection of your own thoughts. You can't lie to yourself.
If I don't know the answer myself, can it still be called a lie?
Both bears fall silent. The empty can clatters to the ground, echoing hollowly. Then Deerbear quietly fades away.
The distribution center is just as busy as you expected. With the typhoon closing in, transport missions are being reshuffled one after another, and it's clear that logistics are stretched thin.
After comparing all the southbound routes, a plan begins to take shape in your mind. To be sure, you consult with a veteran cargo captain introduced by the dispatch staff.
You want to use these transfer routes to reach Constellia? Hmm... let's see.
It's quite a detour, but in theory it could work... Wait, this one cuts right through the typhoon's path. Are you on a tight deadline? If unexpected situations arise, you might get delayed.
Alright. I'll get you one of our crew's own road guides. It's not official... more like our personal notes. You'll find a lot of scribbles and junk, but the real road conditions are all there. It'll serve you better than the standard charts.
Don't mention it. After all, the conservation area borrowed your vehicle first. It's only fair we help you out now.
Finally, the weight in your chest lifts. The aborted journey now has a chance to begin again, all because you refused to give up. Just imagining the light returning to Teddy's eyes makes your steps feel lighter on the way back.
The road trip resumes. The transport rumbles forward through endless cicada song, the highway stretching ahead like a winding gray ribbon leading toward your next destination.
So let me get this straight. We drive the cargo to Conservation Area 83, finish the delivery, then load up new supplies, head to Area 85... and then get off? We're walking the rest of the way?
Teddy flips through the road guide the captain gave her. Her voice sounds half nasal, half pouty, like every word has to squeeze past the tip of her nose.
She glances again at the clothes you're wearing up front—something more practical now, suited for the long haul of the transport run.
Teddy sighs, but obediently straightens up, tucking her legs under the seat after they'd been lazily dangling over the backrest.
Happy now?
You do realize I'm a Construct, right? Even if you drove us into a ditch, I'd walk away without a scratch. Probably have enough time to save you too.
You shake your head with resignation. Once again, you notice there's something different about her lately—a restless energy that keeps bubbling up during this trip.
Hmm... Wait, what?!
Just as you expected, the moment she hears that, her mind jumps straight back to that summer night—the trip that never happened. She leans forward against the driver's seat, pink hair spilling down over your shoulder.
You'd once planned to visit a seaside fishing village on your long-canceled Constellia trip too.
That seaside village... the same one?
Oh. Well... I guess that's fine. Might as well go if we're already close.
Realizing this was intentionally arranged for her, Teddy's eyes light up. She slowly retreats to the rear seat and resumes flipping through the road guide, acting as if nothing happened.
Huh. Didn't expect a road guide to have so many photos. Highways, hills, sunsets... Not bad. Since when do transport drivers double as photographers?
She's just talking to fill the silence, but after a pause, she sneaks another glance at you behind the wheel, lips curling into a quiet smile.
As if a tiny drumbeat of joy went off inside her, Teddy gives the smallest, proudest wiggle.
Of course! I'll make sure to come up with plenty of fun poses for you to shoot.
Her tone is light, but her fingers are already tapping a happy rhythm against the seat. Watching her, you can't help but smile too.
As you drive toward your destination, the scenery outside falls away without hesitation.
There's something freeing about racing down a road with no visible end—it always feels a little like escaping into open sky.
...I'm going to get some fresh air.
She pushes open the sunroof. The wind rushes in, carrying the smell of grass and summer warmth. She slips through the opening like it's the most natural thing in the world.
Basking in sunlight and breeze, Teddy feels every part of her body stretch freely. When she opens her terminal, she realizes the sound sample—the flutter of doves—has already been sent to her.
She adds it to her song and hums softly, ideas bubbling to life in the form of bright, dancing notes.
(Humming...)
Teddy's humming drifts through the window into the cabin. Your fingers tap quietly along to her rhythm as you secretly record the sound.
Outside, the landscape keeps rolling back with the passing time. Accompanied by her changing melody, Teddy's legs swing lazily over the roof edge—she's somehow perched herself right above the driver's seat now.
Hey! What's that for?! You scared me!
Startled, she yanks her legs back inside the car window like a spooked kitten.
Still what? Be careful of you?
A pretty face with a bright, teasing smile appears outside the driver's side window—it might be easier to admire if she weren't hanging upside down.
You slow the car to a gentle stop for safety.
The sunlight paints her upside-down figure in gold. Her pink hair doesn't hang toward the ground but floats elegantly, flowing like silk in the windless air.
Though she's not really in danger, her overexcitement makes you worry.
You meet her eyes seriously.
...
It's like tossing a hot coal into the depths of her M.I.N.D. The moment your eyes meet, her thoughts start to boil over.
Tap tap tap—
What now—wait, what's happening? Why are we hanging upside down from the car?!
It's the first time Deerbear has made such a dramatic entrance.
As Teddy's hair floats serenely around her, Deerbear flails wildly, clutching her little deer hat to keep it from falling while a tiny drum smacks against her head.
Wait, are we still on Earth? How are you even doing this? Shouldn't your hair be falling down? Physics still exists, right?
{226|153|170}~
How can it look so perfect?! There's no wind! Are you defying gravity for aesthetics now?
Shouldn't your hair be hanging like one of those creepy ghosts from horror movies—
Ghosts? Ugh, you really have no taste at all.
As usual, Teddy dismisses her other self's terrible sense of style. You, who can't see Deerbear, end up asking the same question.
She snaps her fingers, drawing her focus back to reality.
Hair's just another composite material. It can be managed through processing power. Most people just don't bother doing it.
Teddy blinks, caught off guard by the genuine concern in your eyes. She straightens up and settles back on the roof.
The turbulence in her M.I.N.D. slowly quiets.
It actually takes a lot of precision to distribute processing power that finely...
The car grows quiet. Teddy lowers her gaze and lets out a faint sigh. A flicker of unease rises from somewhere deep, only to be pressed down hard again.
The free wind has passed, and the rules that have always bound her body return once more.
(Feels like I did something I really shouldn't have.)
(How annoying...)
The roof feels especially quiet now that the chatty doll is gone.
As always, the fears we hide best are the ones that hit hardest when exposed...
Was it because I wanted to keep looking good in front of the commandant? Is that why I controlled my hair...
She rubs her temples, frustrated.
Out of control again. These emotions... they're terrifying.
The Construct rests her hand on her chest where a human heart would be.
Behind her, the sunroof clicks open. You climb up with a can of cherry-flavored electrolyte drink in hand.
You call her name, but as expected, she doesn't answer. She just sits there, back to you, sulking in silence.
Just so you know, that kind of precise control is easy for me. It's practically a warm-up exercise.
You don't try to decide what kind of person Teddy should be. You just want her to feel free doing what she truly wants.
So you decide to give her a little space to do exactly that.
Before the sentence is finished, Teddy turns around, eyes wide in surprise.
Teddy turns around.
You smile, holding up two simple ribbons between your fingers.
Without waiting for an answer, you sit behind her, gently running your fingers through her hair. You smooth it down, divide it into two neat sections, and tie each end with a tassel pulled from your uniform.
The Construct girl shakes her head. Understanding what she means, you sit behind her, gently running your fingers through her hair. You smooth it down, divide it into two neat sections, and tie each end with a tassel pulled from your uniform.
The wind lifts the strands by her temples. Teddy realizes what this gesture means and gives the faintest nod.
You sit behind her, gently running your fingers through her hair. You smooth it down, divide it into two neat sections, and tie each end with a tassel pulled from your uniform.
(So... it's okay after all?)
Her long hair, once restless, finally settles as if it's found a home.
I...
It feels like being caught in a dangerous whirlpool, with reason being pushed to surrender to the pull of confusion.
Her thoughts snap back to the present as if her entire system just rebooted.
Commandant? Are you saying I'm a burden?
The "fearsome" little bear lunges with claws out. Realizing you've misspoken, you only raise your hands in surrender.
Teddy pins you down with fierce determination, forcing you to agree to a string of "unequal treaties."
Amid your laughter and playful chatter, Teddy can't ignore the faint unease rising in her chest. Like the scenery fading behind the car, her once stable, orderly, and controllable world feels as if it's slowly slipping away.
Within that boundary, the world can be known. Beyond it, it's unknowable, undefined, untouchable.
