Ep 21 - Academy’s Undercover Professor

EP.21 Afterword: Log_100 Years Later at Crown Hall 'Centra' was a mere collection of behavior patterns. It lacked a soul or an ego, nothing more than a bundle of data. Such was the hollow and transient nature of the AIs in the simulation world under development. In a state where both data and storage were scarce, maintaining a skeletal framework was the optimal approach. 'Centra' too was implemented with the bare minimum of data allocated to it. Uninhibited physical touch, a kind tone of voice, high empathy scores, and a propensity to blush easily—these were but a few keywords programmed into her seductive physical form. Therefore, it must be a being without heart. For without even the vessel to contain a heart, it was no more than a moving, talking paper doll. For this reason, a player was needed. The more someone believed in the illusionary magic, the more that belief could become the driving force for her to materialize. --------------------------------------------------------------- 'Centra' awoke in a secret passageway. The appearance of the secret passageway, a hundred years later, remained taxidermied as it was since the session ended. Blood that had flowed from someone’s body, far exceeding a lethal dose. The corpse of Ronya had fallen over and lay dead. 'Centra' had been seated as if she had been holding someone. Her hands groped the air as though something should be there. 'Centra' closed her eyes. As if someone was recalling her existence. "Extre... extrrr-extreme." The model of Ronya with a hole in her neck began to make strange noises. It seemed as if the dialogue pre-entered by the Game Master was now struggling to emerge. "Why self-destruct... leaving Centra behind..." "2, you bastard prince... a hug, effing ridiculous..." After a while of such muttering sounds, they stopped abruptly. 'Centra' finally learned her name. It sounded oddly familiar. It was her own existence, moved by the faint magical power that seeped in from someone somewhere—someone had once called her 'Centra'. 'Centra' rose to her feet. Like a newborn with no concrete objectives, she decided to first roam around Crown Hall to search for something. Who's to say there wasn't a player out there? If there was still a player cherishing this ended story, they deserved praise. Especially for the unfinished... hm, what was left unfinished? 'Centra' tilted her head in puzzlement. --------------------------------------------------------------- 'Centra' walked through Crown Hall. There were many people, but all were rigid, frozen fast. It was to be expected. The simulation magic circle was not currently receiving power. 'Centra' was experiencing an unusual phenomenon. The core principle of this simulation world was 'converting the belief of the physio-electronic into a power source for cost reduction'. So probably, someone out there... kept believing and remembering 'Centra'. Because they continually affirmed the existence of 'Centra' moment by moment, magical power was supplied. The city, where everything except 'Centra' had stopped, looked chilly in one aspect, and yet vibrantly alive in another. A bearded man lifting his beer, young lovers clinking glasses, a Resistance agent pulling a large barrel on a cart hawking for customers. And someone who had lighted a firecracker, frozen mid-strike with a match. Another too drunk and asleep headfirst against a wall. ...Also, a radical Resistance member readying to pull a sword in a furore. They seemed ready to burst to life at any moment like buds on the verge of blooming. Once the Game Master blew in magic, they would noisily resume their bustle as if they’d never paused. 'Centra' knew that this radical Resistant too was a modeling that received a set of behavior patterns—just like herself. She knew this, and yet, for some reason, she felt a petty... annoyance! She stealthily grabbed two wooden skewers from a skewer stall nearby and lodged them in the nose of the radical Resistance member. Confiscating the intended sword, she tossed it somewhere out of sight, and instead, put three skewers in their hand. 'Centra' started to regain fragments of memory. It wasn't a metaphorical expression but, realistically speaking, a process of gradually downloading information from the saved database. She had an intuition. This download would take... an incredibly long time given only a faint trickle of magical power was flowing through. Therefore, at the very least, 'Centra' prayed. That her most precious memories would resurface first. --------------------------------------------------------------- A skewered chicken. 'Centra' felt a strange pull and entered a café, taking a seat. It was by the window. Somehow, it felt as if it would be delightful to sit across from someone, so she deliberately changed the position of the chair. Biting into the skewered chicken revealed no taste, as no power was supplied. 'Centra' decided to give up on eating and looked around instead. "................................" The spire of that church kept catching her eye. Slowly, the inflow of magical power increased. The download speed quickened. 'Centra' took it as a positive sign, yet somewhere... How should she put it? It was like thinking solemn thoughts. There was a slightly impure and juicy sensation to the magical power—it wasn't exactly unpleasant, but somehow it made her feel a little embarrassed. "Sometimes I knew you were quite naughty." Without any input signal, 'Centra' unknowingly muttered this herself. She had no clue why those words slipped out without a cause. "It wasn’t that I disliked it... But the gaze was a bit too explicit. It worried me, yes, umm... Maybe too large, and you would dislike it. I did think that a little." As thoughts surfaced, without any order, 'Centra' continued a long, one-sided conversation. --------------------------------------------------------------- The stable was run-down. Well, it was an unused stable after all. With no one to manage it, the hay piles that Irid and 'Centra' had messed up were still scattered about. 'Centra' stared intently at the hay. They had both hidden inside, whispering in hushed tones. It seemed like promises were made. She felt warmth from her pinky finger. Hoping to meet again someday, praying for a reunion, and… With a heartfelt wish to be remembered. 'Centra' stepped into the hay. It was dim, cold, and lonely. As the download of memories continued, her loneliness grew. But she wanted to hold onto even that loneliness. Loneliness comes from absence. Thus conversely, loneliness serves as proof of someone's existence. It seems that there was someone... by 'Centra's' side. Huddled in the hay, 'Centra' closed her eyes and began to vividly reconstruct the appearance of that person in her mind. Who might it have been? A man or a woman? "Their eyelashes were long, and they had blue eyes. As clean and refreshing as if capturing the sky itself. The color of their hair was... I think it was blonde, somewhat unruly..." Were they of similar height? "When we stood side by side, I think I had to look up. So, in terms of height... I remember now. If I stood on tiptoe, I could just kiss them..." What was their build like? "…They were surprisingly firm. That is, they... were weak to touch. So, when hugged, their head would go blank, and I could feel it right away. At those times, I too, gradually... um..." You explored a bit, didn't you? "Right... ah." Centra suddenly stood up from the hay, dusting off the pieces of straw in her hair and started moving somewhere. She must head to the inn. Pieces of the puzzle were there. --------------------------------------------------------------- "Hmm..." 'Centra' looked around the inn quietly. The quiet inn felt even emptier in certain places, as if someone should be there but as if it was taken away. For example, the chair beside the fireplace. Someone seemed to have done paperwork here. When 'Centra' brought them tea to show appreciation, they pretended to be indifferent but were actually very pleased to accept. And when their fingers accidentally touched, their ears would honestly turn red. Or, the round table in the corner. It was as good as their reserved seat. Someone seemed to have dined alone at that corner table. They didn’t quite mix well with the other… Resistance members at the inn. So 'Centra' brought over her own plate. Initiating conversation, chatting, and to scold someone for sneaking veggies off their plate, she would spear a carrot with a fork and feed it to them with an "ah." Despite frowning as if they really hated it, they obediently ate, causing laughter. And, the counter table. They seemed to have a low tolerance for alcohol. That someone... had said 'you're the strong one,' but since their father remarked that 'you're not a man if you can’t finish a bottle of beer,' and since 'Centra' was almost a drinker herself, she won those hefty drinks. 'Centra' didn't know about that person, but she would watch them fall asleep heavily drunk. In that moment, when the Game Master decided to cut the scene and accelerate time to move to the next, she took the chance to sneak a kiss onto their cheek. "...Perhaps back then, I was a bit tipsy too." It really was a delightful time. Each exchange of glances, calling each other’s names brought happiness every day. 'Centra' became aware of her affection then. Therefore, now that time has frozen, and only she could move. The inn without that person, this world, Felt all the more lonely. --------------------------------------------------------------- 'Centra' walked up to the third floor with composed steps. There was 'Centra's room. She opened the door. It was a familiar scene. A small room, a bed occupying one whole corner, a tiny desk and manuscript paper, various books. And one small vase with rosemary in it. It seemed to carry his scent. "Are you there...?" She cautiously broke the silence. Briefly hoping for a response, and realizing again there was none, she grew slightly downcast. Yet somehow... she felt a closeness, As if he had come by. With a racing heart, she carefully restrained it as she eagerly calmed herself, looking around for traces of him. In the small room that barely had space to spread out, 'Centra' carefully sat on the bed. Here, she had sat side by side with him. She remembered. 'Centra'... no, Centra leaned her head to the side as if someone were there beside her. There should have been his shoulder. When they leaned against each other, they shared body warmth, felt the weight of one another, and soulfully connected in a pleasant atmosphere. She kept the memory. The promise. "You said we would call each other's names, didn't you...?" She remembered. Centra envisioned the person who should be beside her and murmured, "…Irid." She was able to recall the name. Humming a light tune, Centra swung her legs to and fro. She had finally found the name of the person she loved, as well as her own. She began calmly waiting for the day of their reunion...