Chapter 165

The kid’s hanging there like a cat held up by someone’s hand in the middle of it all.

Lost all strength to even curl in pain, that’s why.

“Why are you asking Tori about this?”

Merriweather looks at me weird like I’m out of line and asks. I glance around.

Fear, confusion, anger, frustration for not daring to speak up, irritation, boredom—faces filled with all kinds of emotions look this way.

“Here, the only one who can approach the kid with sympathy and talk to me is Victoria.”

It’s kinda pressuring her judgment on what to do with the kid, but I figure compassionate Victoria wouldn’t leave this kid with a severed arm.

Harvesting should never be my will. Sure, if I were famous, I could nudge them into choosing to become Harvesters, but no such vibes here.

So when we made the first Harvester in Brightshin Slums, it had to be forced.

“What if Tori tells you to just leave it alone?”

Merriweather uses a snarky tone. Still, they’re thinking of making the kid a Harvester because they wanted it…right?

Shouldn’t this thing be isolated anyway?

They start talking monster stuff.

“I’ll do nothing.”

No “if you don’t care, I won’t either” nonsense. If every word out of my mouth has to be true, I gotta watch what I say.

I shift my gaze from Merriweather’s curious stare back to Victoria. She’s not paying attention to the conversation; she’s using her powers to stop the bleeding from the kid’s hand.

Then, like she realizes something, she looks down at her own hands and swishes them around.

A hand that had fallen to the floor floats up into the air.

It flies toward the kid’s wrist, hovers slightly away, then liquid starts shooting out straight from both sides.

I thought they were gonna squeeze the kid dry and kill ‘em, but as soon as the liquid streams align perfectly with the cut, she gently twists the hand and locks it into place.

“Wow, can you use healing magic starting from that point?”

Wherever there’s moisture, light shoots out from inside the wound like welding it together. A bit later…

When the light fades, there’s the kid’s hand, good as new without a single scar.

“Arm?”

The kid mutters in an almost broken voice, staring at their arm. Man, that was some brutal reattachment.

It feels more like repairing a machine than healing a person. Connect the parts, weld ‘em together…

Humans are biomechanical beings after all.

“Whoa, this actually works.”

Victoria watches in disbelief, clearly not expecting her attempt to succeed. Murmurs rise from the crowd.

Then she approaches the kid, feeling the arm this way and that.

“Yeah. It’s all connected. Arms are surprisingly complex though.”

She detaches the kid from my grip, pats their back, and sets them down.

My Harvester candidate darts off into an alley and disappears. As I’m watching the lost fish swim away, Victoria meets my eyes.

“Is this the right thing to do?”

I sigh deeply inside before answering.

“Yeah, it is.”

For you guys, this is the right thing. Victoria Bet. But keep in mind, my likability meter just plummeted.

“Bell always seemed like a good person, but I guess not?”

Merriweather sneaks closer and asks. Upon hearing this, Victoria opens her mouth to respond but closes it, realizing I’m not exactly known for being saintly.

“By human standards, quite evil.”

Of course, saying this while knowing full well it doesn’t really make me sound evil. Calling yourself bad usually means nothing anyway.

Good people don’t act good because they think their actions are good—they act because it’s simply the right thing to do.

Living virtuously is normal.

That’s why a society that respects individuality can sometimes let villains thrive. Without enough strength to rein in those who stand out, everyone gets lumped together.

Anyway.

There’s no bigger liar than someone who says they’re good. Merriweather probably knows this obvious fact.

So after calling myself bad, I point at Merriweather.

“You were bad too.”

“Because you cut the kid’s hand off?”

“No. Victoria came out to have fun, but now she’s upset, right? Own that.”

Being too nice makes it hard to exploit. Everyone knows how most prophets end up, right?

You can only comfortably use someone if you think they’re just as ugly or worse liars than you.

Too perfect people are annoying. Idiots who find flaws through comparison are easy to spot. That’s the ones who fear gods and hate artificial intelligence. They’re scared of beings superior in every way.

Because finding their worth through constant comparison, only to discover they’re inferior in everything, is unbearable.

So you give them an easy weakness to latch onto. They call it “humanity,” right?

“Hmm, aren’t you caring too much about Victoria? Or is it… dependency?”

“Merriweather Olcat. Are you really guarding her?”

Whether it’s cognitive distortion or just poking around too openly, I ask as a warning. After saying that, Merriweather steps back and apologizes.

“Sorry, sorry. Just got carried away with interest in Bell. Hard to figure out what you’re thinking.”

Not a proper apology if your cognitive abilities are impaired, but you might not notice the awkwardness.

Even if the ability isn’t strong enough where an average person should catch the oddity here…

I decide to ignore it.

“Yeah, got it.”

That’s when it happened.

“That one, that’s Her.”

A strange muttering echoes. Looking toward the sound, deeper in a narrow alley…

Midsummer. In an alley so dark the sun barely touches, someone stares this way.

They’re the exact type of people you’d see in Brightshin slums.

But their gaze isn’t on me—it’s on Victoria.

Separating their voices from the background noise isn’t hard since I can process many thoughts at once.

They mutter these words:

Purple hair. Girl. Powerful recovery ability. Compassion. Free.

I only have fragmented info. Could be me, could be Victoria, or maybe some girl in the slums who recently awakened healing powers.

But it’s not her yet.

Because she hasn’t used her healing ability on anyone outside her family. She did two days ago.

Harvesters realize their psychic abilities immediately upon gaining them, but I don’t know until they use them.

Even if they start using it somewhat proficiently from the get-go, everyone goes through trial and error.

You experiment to see how far your power extends.

That’s when I realize this Harvester gained their psychic ability.

Considering how long the girl hid her powers, there might be others I haven’t detected yet.

I’ll need to pay closer attention going forward.

Meanwhile, the folks in the alley bolt when our eyes meet.

More desire would’ve been better…

While they run, Victoria looks around and sighs. People are already staring at her intently.

“We can’t come here anymore.”

“Victoria made the wrong choice.”

I step closer to Victoria. If Choseol’s body were here, she’d still be a little girl. Same with this one.

I reach out and grab her hand, bending her waist, then cup her head with both hands.

“What do you mean by saying I made the wrong choice?”

She keeps her pouty face even as I hold her chin.

“Victoria should’ve died there. Then Maurice would’ve fallen into despair and built a machine he shouldn’t have, Beatrice would’ve broken, and eventually their relationship would’ve shattered.”

Using Merriweather as an excuse to say what I want.

“You’ve been making wrong choices since the moment you grabbed my hand.”

I pinch her cheeks hard, release her, and turn away, walking toward Merriweather who watches me with interest.

“It’s still like that now.”

Merriweather processes what I said, likely working for some royal intelligence bureau.

Even the king suspected me last time we met.

About my true identity.

Probably for Aurora’s sake. The moment I contracted with her to save Aurora, it was already too late!

“Let’s go, Merriweather. No one here is calling for me.”

“Hey, did Tori do something you dislike? If it’s because of me, sorry. How about we reconcile here?”

Ah, clear malice showing.

Her intent to twist our relationship further by reconciling here—it’s interesting.

Let’s play along.

“Sure, let’s say that, Victoria.”

“Crazy.”

“I agree.”

An emotionless move. An action meant to break ties based on context.

“Are we going to reconcile?”

At my question, Victoria stares at me blankly. The air grows tense, dry as dust, sucking the moisture out of me.

Conversely, I feel damp, cold, scratching at my skin.

“Do we need to?”

“No.”

Victoria continues staring at me before walking past me. The atmosphere returns to normal.

Ignoring Merriweather completely, she walks out of the alley.

“Yeah, big trouble. But Bell was kinda nasty too. Even if something bothers you, you should’ve maturely reconciled there.”

Quickly dividing adults from kids, placing me as the weaker party. Ah, textbook gaslighting. Since I plan to play along, I shake my head.

“It’s Victoria’s fault.”

Not me. Someone else’s fault. Classic denial fit for a child.

Look. Merriweather’s smile deepens, doesn’t it?

“Tori was weird. Cutting off some slum dweller’s wrist like that and then ignoring you when you tried to heal them. Almost felt like you were trying to replace her.”

Suppressing laughter at the obvious threat to my position. While pretending concern, driving a wedge between us, huh?

“Is that so?”

“But we should reconcile, right? You kinda want to, don’t you? Though not today, let’s think about it tomorrow.”

In short, spill your guts to me. Spilling guts means revealing thoughts.

Indeed, intel bureau personnel.

Since the best response here is silence, I don’t answer and head back to the accommodation.

Merriweather tries to soothe me while hiding her joy. Whispering stories here and there to push me and Victoria apart.

I start responding absent-mindedly while heading back to the lodging.

Merriweather doesn’t seem to know.

During the final moment with Victoria. The air was bone-dry, my stomach damp.

Victoria said Merriweather was weird and suggested scratching her arm if she knew something.

When asked if she needed help, I replied no.

Sorry, Merriweather.

Victoria is smarter than you think. She didn’t slaughter Sahaquins alone, summoned Daegon, and dealt with someone planning a suicide bombing—don’t underestimate her.

Victoria is resilient.

She can detect and handle devious tactics.

Getting warmth now might mean siding with Merriweather, but I’m considering siding with her this time.

Though the chance for immediate warmth is gone, avoiding mistakes could still lead to a bright future.

Feels like a lifetime of dry, nutritious health food instead of fast food, but it’s frustrating.

The important thing is, the Auto-Warmth System project is progressing smoothly.

So during this time. For a few hundred years.

Play happily with me.

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