Date: September 15, 3048
Time: 14:04
Location: Dump near Elliot Manor
Yes... For about fifteen minutes now, according to my internal clock, I've been lying on something hard. No, don't get the wrong idea—I haven't been wasting time, not at all! I've been engaged in a rather fascinating and fun activity—staring at a sign indicating my location. Just four words, yet they stir so many emotions, mostly negative ones.
In other circumstances, I wouldn't have paid much attention to the fact that Elliot Manor is a few hundred meters from the dump, but now... Now I'm genuinely curious: was the manor built here on purpose, or did they set up the dump after the manor already existed? Pretty strange thoughts, if you think about it. I'm not pondering who I've become, what I've ended up as, or where I even am. For some reason, all I care about is this damn Elliot Manor, which I haven't even seen yet! But thanks to the map in my metallic head, I can at least make out its outlines—nothing more.
Turning my emotionless gaze to the night sky, studded with bright stars, I started to think. I thought about those who live in that majestic building. Tessa immediately came to mind—the real Tessa, whose true appearance we never got to see. Well, except for the skin stretched over Cyn... But honestly, that hardly resembles a human. Hmm, Tessa... She's brilliant but foolish. Foolish like the foolish moon in this foolish sky—Onegin's words fit the situation perfectly. It's one of my favorite novels... or it was... Anyway, that doesn't change the fact that Tessa was explicitly told, "Don't go to the gala." Nope! She went anyway and paid the full price. I feel sorry for her, but I'm not about to save her. There's no point. Cyn would just beat the crap out of me.
It'd be nice if Tessa took me away from here. Ha, imagine being at the center of events, controlling the situation from the inside without any tricks. Everything laid out like an open book. Being a butler wouldn't be such a high price to pay, especially considering the sheer number of plot inconsistencies I could tweak however I wanted. But, to my great misfortune, becoming a full-fledged part of Elliot Manor is just impossible. I'd need to catch Tessa's eye, and I haven't even figured out how to walk yet!
Many might ask a very logical and unpleasant question: Why the hell do I care about this damn manor? What am I looking for there? Ways to gain power? Cyn would get in the way. New acquaintances? With who? Maybe the future genociders... Oh, I mean disassembly drones. Only with them could I strike up a useful connection, especially since two of them won't lose their memories. That says a lot, particularly in the context of my stay there. So, you could say that if fate doesn't make me a disassembly drone, the others won't bother me anyway. Pretty convenient setup.
Of course, the manor has its obvious downsides—like Louisa, for starters. Tessa's mom is such a vile and unpleasant person. I'd love to see the canonical yellow-eyed trio turn her into bloody minced meat. Shame I won't get to witness that... Another downside is, naturally, Cyn. She'll be the toughest to deal with. How do you even talk to someone nicknamed "Planet Eater"? I could try to worm my way into her trust, but the chances of success are slim... Well, it's something, at least. Good thing the odds aren't zero.
Now, I can muse about what I've become. Alright, it's obvious—no need to overthink it—I'm a worker drone. Though, the complete lack of bodily sensation makes everything way more complicated. Figuring out my body's dimensions was impossible, at least without moving, because lying there staring at the moon was far more pleasant than gawking at a drone dump. But even without inspecting my body, I can say one thing—I'm crippled! Yep, my body's condition leaves much to be desired... At least, that's what my sensors—or rather, their absence—tell me. Remember those glowing triangles on drones' hands? Those are sensors that monitor the state of specific body parts. Well... the sensor on my left hand was missing, as indicated on my interface. And no sensor means no corresponding body part... Yikes...
Integrity of module "Left Hand": 46%. Missing hand.
Even reading that message felt pretty unpleasant. Alright, it's not that bad—just a missing hand. At first, I thought the whole arm was gone, but this... It's kind of cute, actually.
Sighing, I decided to inspect my so-called "bed," though calling it that was a stretch. With a dull creak of servos and a high-pitched whine, I strained to lift my metal head. The first thing I saw was... corpses. Tons of corpses of other poor drones, faintly glinting in the bright sunlight. Their shattered displays mournfully showed just one message: "FATAL ERROR". The scene was pitiful, even sad, you could say. These were essentially my kin, unlucky enough to die without the chance to rise again like Cyn or me. What a cruel, disgusting world, with equally disgusting people like Louisa.
Tilting my head with a faint squeak, I managed to take a closer look at the bodies of my former colleagues. Thankfully, the sun was bright enough for me to properly examine the nearest poor soul. The first thing that caught my eye was... a hole in its head. No, literally—a damn hole in the worker drone's head. I get it, sure, but the way people in this world can casually kill drones without batting an eye is just insane! Even now, looking at this drone, I can't wrap my head around the fact that I could be taken out by a dinner knife! Some might smirk and say I could've been killed with a dinner knife as a human too, but I'd counter: back then, I had skin, and now I've got freaking aviation-grade aluminum! How the hell can they pierce metal at least two millimeters thick with cutlery?! It's like it's not even real metal—just foil. A façade of metal with cotton stuffing underneath, like a plush toy... Alright, I'm getting carried away.
Turning my head away from that poor sap, I looked at another part of the dump—specifically, a small pile of dead drones stacked atop one another. Zooming in my vision, which threw off my sense of balance and nearly made me fall back again, I started meticulously examining this little heap of steel—or rather, aluminum—corpses.
One of them was missing both legs, and judging by the chaotic tangle of protruding wires, bits of tubing, scraps of metal, and dried oil, this poor thing didn't lose them willingly. They'd been brutally torn off, if the mangled metal leg casings—looking like sliced steel pipes—were any indication. I mean the segmented parts that make up a drone's limbs.
Another had its core ripped out, evident from the massive hole in its chest. The dried oil that once leaked from the wound now formed a small stain on the ground. Jagged shards of the chest plate stuck out in all directions, catching the eye with their mysterious gleam. The drone's face showed nothing but terror, etched into its final expression and mirrored by the flickering text on its display.
I don't even want to know how they died. I don't want to know how they turned into... this... Scraps of metal, completely drained of oil, with torn wires and servos scattered about. I'm not entirely convinced the humans in this world are that strong. If they were, missing limbs would be the least of these drones' problems.
Knowing how they died wouldn't give me anything—just a bunch of new thoughts and nightmares I wouldn't even experience since sleep, as a robot, is as useful to me as a driveshaft is to an ant.
Based on the data I'd gathered—like being near a certain well-known manor—I came to an interesting conclusion. A terrifying one that made me frown deeply. Nearly all the drones here are victims of James, or at least a couple of generations of people like him. Yes, it's a bold claim with no hard evidence, but it's the most logical sequence of events I can come up with. Whose manor is it? The Elliots'. Whose dump is it? Also theirs! They wouldn't "rent out" their dump, right? So, they're too lazy to haul the drones elsewhere and just pile them up here. Makes sense? I think so too.
The people in this world are even more pathetic than in my old one. Back there, sure, there was hypocrisy and hatred toward beings slightly different from themselves, but at least it was controlled. Here? Kill drones all you want—just don't commit war crimes, and you're free to do whatever. Want an orgy? Go for it. Gladiator fights? Easy peasy! This permissiveness has ruined these people. Ruined them badly. That's why they lost their planet, the idiots. Flesh-and-blood idiots who can't even think—sorry, reason!
Turning my head away from that "lovely" oil-stained installation, I sighed heavily. Sure, this world's fun, but its danger level is way higher. Not exactly a cheerful thought—what's there to be happy about? Piles of corpses all around? People who can't reason? Ha, as if there's anything joyful in this world. Ha, I say that like I've ever known true happiness. Nope, not at all.
Lowering my digital eyes to the ground, I looked at my hand. It gleamed in the daylight of the local sun, sending little sunbeams bouncing in all directions. The worn metal creaked faintly with every movement, and the servos hummed dully. But the whole picture was ruined by... the complete absence of a hand. Where other drones had a wrist, I had just a mess of jagged wires and dried oil. Not exactly pleasant to look at. Though I don't feel pain as such, my processor kept getting updates from the sensors—or rather, updates about the absence of one. Those data packets were like pain, but my version was more... annoying.
"Well... Why not?" I asked into the void, staring at a single point. My face probably showed intense mental activity—I wouldn't be surprised if an animated throbbing vein popped up on my screen. What was I thinking about so hard? How to work with the Solver, of course. I know I have it, but I don't know how to use it. The god couldn't have lied to me, right? Though, recalling his words about my death... He's a weird guy... Suspicious...
Either way, I need to test my "Brand New Solver." It'd suck if it came with side effects like energy demands or processing power limits. But that sounds like nonsense, doesn't it? It can't have side effects—I got rid of them all! Well, as they say, "Hope dies last," so I've got to try, no matter what.
With a slightly crooked smile, I raised my right hand and stretched it forward. My movements were slow, almost unfamiliar. Every motion in this body was a struggle since I didn't know how to control it, though it felt like the processor in my head should've made it easier. Spoiler: it didn't. I'd have to relearn how to walk, though it wouldn't take long.
Looking at my hand, I splayed three fingers. That, as I understood, was the Solver's activation seal. It could be changed, sure, but that'd mean digging into the Solver's configuration, and I wasn't sure I wouldn't have to decompile it and recompile it after tweaking.
Focusing, I twitched my fingers, sending a few colorful lightning bolts coursing through my body. They didn't last a second but gave me a jolt of energy, like jumping into snow after a sauna. Same vibe—way more invigorating than coffee or energy drinks.
With more attempts, the colorful bolts kept sparking, making me twitch. Instant boost. That went on until...
"It worked..." I breathed out quietly, staring in awe at my very own Solver of The Absolute Fabric, The Void, The Exponential End! Ha-ha-ha! Yes! It's gorgeous—no doubt about its power. And those lightning bolts? Pure perfection! Like chugging a couple liters of energy drink! I don't even want to turn it off... Sounds like a drug—a potent one. But that doesn't overshadow its strange beauty.
So, what did it look like? Oh, it was a work of art! Nothing too complex, but its appearance screamed raw power. The standout was the white hexagon at the center of this megastructure—easily the brightest part of the Solver. Yet, despite its brightness, it meshed well with the three arrows branching from it, each a different color: red, yellow, and purple. They were inseparably tied to the hexagon's vertices. The most intriguing bit to me was the bright orange band running across the arrows' tips, linking them like a bridge. You could say my Solver was inscribed in a circle. That band wasn't the only extra feature—while the arrows used three of the hexagon's six vertices, the other three, between the arrows, sprouted little rods connecting the hexagon to the band. It all looked insanely intricate, like someone got bored and doodled extra bits onto a basic Solver in Paint. Not that I'm complaining—it's just complex.
Glancing at my "damaged" hand again, I gave a faint smile. With powers like these, I'll be a constant in this whole damn world! All that's left is learning how to use them, but I don't think that's a big deal. Especially after being... human... Ugh, it's awful to think about.
Anyway, since the Solver—aside from the Cube and Void—is my only shot at getting strong, I've got to master it, at least in basic ways like passive regeneration or enhanced strength. Yes, I want a lot, and I won't even deny it. I'm a damn egoist.
So, time to get to work.
Straining slightly, I felt the tiniest energy currents flowing through my body, passing through my core and linking all my systems into one ultra-complex mechanism. Just looking at the energy structures gave me a headache—and that was just my broken hand. I dread to think what'd happen if I started dissecting my core's connections...
With a light wish, like a silent whisper, I directed the energy toward my wrecked hand, willing it to "restore." Following my intent, a white panel lit up above the Solver with the word //create//. I was surprised—I didn't expect the Solver to work like that...
While I mulled over how the Solver functioned, my hand was already starting to regenerate. A silvery liquid, eerily like mercury, appeared and began enveloping the pathetic stump. Within seconds, all the dangling wires vanished beneath this mysterious liquid metal, which reflected light so perfectly I nearly blinded myself looking at it from the wrong angle. Daytime sun, you know.
Once the liquid coated my stump, the strange puddle started shaping into something resembling a worker drone's manipulator. With each passing second, it grew more detailed. First, grooves formed between the finger joints, instantly turning black and sitting out the rest of the process—I couldn't move the new hand yet. Then came the triangle on the back of the hand, which I realized was a control sensor—a hybrid of a motion detector and surveillance camera. It gave a better sense of the surrounding space, so I wouldn't accidentally knock stuff off tables, for example.
The grand finale was the liquid vanishing entirely, painting my hand a standard worker-drone white. The whole thing took less than thirty seconds! I didn't expect regeneration to be that fast. Though... thinking back to episode seven, where Cyn in Uzi's body regrew her hands in a second and then whipped up a massive singularity... I'm light-years behind her level.
I was about to stand and climb down the pile of corpses—probably the tallest around—when suspicious activity flashed before my eyes. Focusing, I glanced at my interface's desktop. The emoji catalog and sensor status model didn't interest me. Something else caught my attention—something that made me freeze for a moment.
Dozens of error messages flooded my vision, multiplying by the second. They varied in content, but the gist was the same: I'd screwed up. Big time...
Critical Error!
Warning! Insufficient Energy!
All Systems Shutting Down!
Temperature of "Central Processor" Module: 167°C! Severe Overheating!
Most Services Disabled!
Urgent Replacement Required for Module: "Right Leg"!
No Coolant Detected! Full System Shutdown.
Core Module Integrity: 30%! Urgent Replacement Required!
Warning! Ignoring Current Core Condition Will Result in Inevitable Software Death!
SHUTDOWN...
"Ugh..." I sighed, staring at the flood of errors flickering before my eyes, their mere presence unnerving. I knew my consciousness had maybe ten seconds left, tops. And I decided to spend those ten seconds in a very odd way. Not like I had a choice.
"Very curious... What a complete degenerate I am!..." I didn't finish before my consciousness sank into the almighty embrace of darkness. So terrifying yet warm and soft, like a mother's arms...
۞⦰۞
"An unfamiliar ceiling." That was the first thought that hit me when I woke up in a place I didn't recognize. The ceiling was indeed unfamiliar but looked like something out of a hospital. The white foam tiles blurred slightly in my vision post-wakeup. A square lamp, the light source, was the most noticeable part of it—I had to squint since it shone right into my eyes.
I was about to cover my eyes to shield my delicate digital peepers from the blinding white light when... I realized I couldn't lift my hand. Eyes bulging, I raised my head and looked at my right arm. My shock was almost tangible—it's hard not to notice being literally strapped to a table! And here's the kicker—it wasn't just any table... It was a freaking operating table! So what am I supposed to do now? Are they about to dissect me for parts? Though... What parts? I'm a robot! But if I'm in the domain of some Otoran Van De Lir... I won't last long. There aren't many vivisectors of that Unknown Freak level—at least, not that I know of. Maybe there are more.
"Oh!... You're awake! [Joy...]" Hearing that voice, I froze. My feeble processor calculated the odds of such an early encounter, and my digital eyes started twitching. I got genuinely scared... No, not just scared—TERRIFIED! If this is who I think it is...
Slowly, as if in slow motion, with a metallic creak, I turned my head toward the voice's source, hoping for the best and mentally praying to Chaos. After an agonizing ten seconds, I finally laid eyes on the owner of that robotic little voice.
On an aged wooden chair sat a small drone, dangling her legs. Two cute pigtails hung from the sides of her head, tied with little bows. Despite the helmet—an essential part of every worker drone—her look was quite harmonious. The giant bow on her head stole the show, though—it looked like it weighed three kilos. Her maid outfit made her downright adorable, so innocent and quiet. Her steel spaghetti-like arms rested folded on her lap, reflecting the lamp's light right into my face.
She tracked my every move, every action. Her yellow eyes studied me with curiosity—my head, my leg, even... my crotch... Okay, let's not go there.
Despite her childish, innocent appearance, I knew this—dare I say it—monster could just erase me and go about her day, telling everyone I'd exploded from overexertion.
Better not dwell on her achievements... Killing twenty billion people, destroying multiple planets, and don't get me started on her casually whipping up singularities—I'll just shut up about that.
"You slept a long time, little brother Ai, [Sympathy...]" Despite the emotional tag in her words, Cyn's face showed no trace of that sympathy. It was the same indifferent stare from her yellow eyes, chilling me to the core. It felt like she was mentally dissecting me and sorting me into jars... Or maybe that's just how she shows love? Her face gave nothing away. One thing was clear, though—the Solver was taking her over.
The good news? She considers me her little brother. That's fantastic for me! She's unlikely to nitpick me too much—recalling how she treats N, she's way nicer to "family" than to random nobodies. Super convenient. You could say I'll get her protection... But what kind of protection? If they wipe my memory, that'd suck, frankly. I could try persuading her, leveraging my little-brother status... Yeah, that's what I'll do.
The door creaked, giving me an excuse to look away from my sister. Glancing over, I saw someone entering, trying not to disturb us. First, just a head peeked in—looked like a girl's—and a second later, she stepped inside the workshop without hesitation. This girl radiated joy and positivity from a mile away, mixed with some inner strength. She definitely wasn't ordinary, at least that's how it seemed to me.
Appearance-wise, she was a green-eyed, chestnut-haired beauty. Those eyes... They were the most striking part of her look. Like two emeralds glinting in the sun, blazing with sharp intellect and a dash of scientific madness, though it was overshadowed by her other emotions.
Her dark hair shimmered under the lamps, scattering hundreds of tiny glints across my display, irritating the light-sensitive sensors behind the glass film.
Another standout feature was... the bow on her head, surprisingly, given the current year. The coolest part? It didn't clash with her vibe—it perfectly complemented her dirty jumpsuit, which she probably used to lug drones around. Yeah, sounds weird, but it's true. They matched completely. And as I figured, she never parted with that bow. I already knew this was Tessa... And she didn't part with it even after death...
By my estimate, she was about fourteen or fifteen, judging by her behavior. Though... What am I saying? What behavior analysis? Her age is obvious if you know the canon.
"Well, well. Looks like the newbie's awake. Interesting..." She zipped across the room in a flash, ending up right next to me, peering at my display. I shifted back a bit—sure, I'm a drone, but even I have personal space. Sounds kinda... silly, doesn't it?
She noticed my retreat and giggled softly.
"Hee-hee... Don't be scared, we won't hurt you. You were just lying there for three days without moving—I thought you'd burned out inside. Now you're awake, and I'm curious how you work." She stifled her laugh. So innocent and kind. Hmm... What do I do with this kid?
"Let's get acquainted. I'm Tessa James-Louisa Elliot. Just call me Tessa. The drone next to you is Cyn." She gestured at my sister, her gaze brushing over the operating table. I expected to see dislike for Cyn in her eyes, but there was only boundless love... Fair enough... Right! She loved all drones, no matter their condition or quirks. Forgot that... Wait, I've got a computer for a brain—how could I forget anything?... I'll figure that out later.
"There are other drones too—V, J, and N—but they're super busy right now, so they can't meet you. Now... What's your serial number?" she asked, getting up close again, practically breathing in my face. I had nowhere to retreat this time, so I just accepted my fate.
"Uh... I'm S-Serial N-Number I (A.N. or Ai). Nice to meet you." Yeah, I didn't have the creativity to come up with a name, so I took the one Cyn gave me. It suits me, actually—I'm quite the egoist. And it's way better than some random letter picked by a not-so-random girl. Don't tell me she pulled me from the dump—that doesn't stop me from doubting her taste.
Another fun fact: my voice modules were glitching hard. My voice came out scratchy and semi-robotic, like I'd swallowed metal shavings. They'd take a few days to calibrate, so I'd probably have to stay quiet most of the time. Talking like Icon for days? I doubt the Elliots could handle that.
"What's your condition? Any short circuits?" Tessa asked, starting to examine my body closely. Her hands darted over all my functional spots, making the servos hum faintly.
My eye twitched. I get it, sure, but I'm tired of these questions and chats. Yeah, I'm that impatient. I know it's necessary—my state was probably awful when they found me—but this feels like overprotective human-to-robot coddling. Though, knowing this world, it should be the other way around.
I haven't even processed everything from those ten minutes at the dump! I haven't fully grasped what my Solver looks like or figured out how the Void and Cube work, though I know it's too early to use them.
"All s-systems are f-fully functional. Voice m-module calibration will c-complete in two days, three h-hours, and eight m-minutes," I replied in my glitchy voice, trying not to laugh at myself. It sounded overly robotic but so funny I wanted to cackle. I was like a male Icon, just with a steadier voice—albeit with some bugs and glitches. Like broken audio. It grates on some people's ears, but to me, it's just normal noise.
"Great! Let's go pick you some clothes while we wait for the other drones!" I didn't get a chance to respond before Tessa swiftly unstrapped my arms and legs from the table with some kind of key-like tool.
I rotated my wrists to confirm they worked, smirking wickedly—or so I thought. Faint metal scratches lingered on my wrists as a reminder of my time strapped down, but they vanished in a second. Solver regeneration, duh. Interestingly, it didn't knock me out like last time.
With Tessa's help, I slid off the table and finally stood up. I stood firm, calculating every move, anticipating my next actions—or trying to. A second later, Tessa grabbed my hand and dragged me toward the workshop exit. That I didn't predict...
Leaving the workshop, we climbed a truly monumental staircase that seemed endless. Only now did I realize we'd been in the basement.
Primitive miner's lamps hung on the walls, their light bouncing chaotically off the lacquered wooden handrails. The burgundy carpeted steps rustled softly under our quick steps.
After about twenty seconds, we reached the top and stepped into a regular hallway. It wasn't much different stylistically from the basement passage, except the miner's lamps were replaced by cheap but civilized chandeliers. Tessa glanced around and led me to a door. I had no idea which wing of the manor I was in, let alone the layout of the rooms, so whatever was behind that door was a surprise.
She opened it, the door letting out a long creak like it resented being disturbed, and ushered us inside. The first thing that hit me was... an insane amount of varied clothing—different styles and sizes. T-shirts, formal suits, even mini skirts I saw no point in. But the kicker? All this clothing had one thing in common: it was child-sized.
Yeah, that simple truth made me question the meaning of life. Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating, but this stuff really looked like kids' clothes—way too small. Maybe it's special drone gear? No clue... Though, knowing how fetishistic humans can be, the mini skirts make sense... Imagined it... A drone in a mini skirt... Please wipe my memory...
The variety of colors in this, uh, storage room stood out too. Every shade you could want, from light blue to pitch black. A paradise for women and shopping enthusiasts, but hell for men—hours get burned here...
Tessa led me to a mirror at the room's end, reflecting nearly the entire space. And in that mirror... was me. Bald and naked. My smooth head bounced the light back, blinding me through the reflection. Friendly fire, huh? Blinded myself with my own baldness—genius...
Scanning the area by the mirror, I spotted several wigs with various hair types. Right then, my program piped up with a curious offer I couldn't refuse:
Scan object "Wig" and transfer its data to the database?
"Yes," I replied mentally, awaiting a mini-miracle like a kid waiting for Santa. That's me—human to robot, no big deal. I'm all for it! So many new features! Like this scanning thing—it's a function too!
A few seconds later, I got a response:
Object "Wig" Composition: keratin (protein), cuticle, melanin... Full composition of human hair.
That news floored me. What the hell, human hair?! Tessa, are you nuts?! Now I get where the human skulls in her room come from. She dug up corpses and scalped them! Gross... I love it!
I pointed at a silver-platinum wig that caught my eye, gleaming under the warehouse lights. It looked cute, thick, and felt light, by my guess. Sure, its origins raised questions, but I just ignored that.
Yeah, it's from corpses. Yeah, it's nuts to wear it. But do I care what I put on? Nope. So, as I tried on this wig, not a quarter of a thought about the dead being pissed crossed my mind. Plain and simple—I didn't give a damn.
Picking the hair took less than three minutes, most of which we spent wrestling it onto my smooth head since it wouldn't stay put. I even suggested gluing sandpaper to my scalp to hold it—Tessa just laughed and said she'd handle it without such drastic measures.
And she did! She found a rubber band, tied it to the wig, and slapped it on me. It still looked like hair but felt like a winter hat. Cute, basically.
After the hair, we started picking a outfit. I immediately mentioned my preference for a bow tie over a regular tie. Bow ties felt classier and fresher to me.
First, we approached a wardrobe stuffed with formal drone suits. It had almost everything! I loved it! Without overthinking, I picked a dark gray frock coat with light vertical stripes. I'll call it the "Butler Suit" now—it fits the vibe perfectly.
But I forgot the most important part...
This suit looks good on me...
Fifteen minutes later, fully dressed like some aristocrat, I stood before the mirror. No longer a bald, naked worker drone with an egg-smooth head, but an elegant robot with platinum hair cascading to my shoulders, swaying with every move.
The light stripes on my dark suit added contrast—a little flair other drones lacked. The black pants weren't much different stylistically, sporting light stripes too.
Polished dress shoes on my feet gleamed so brightly I could barely look at them without the room's light bouncing into my face.
Smiling at myself, I struck various poses, showing off in the mirror. Call me vain, but I genuinely liked this look. The hair... the suit... the bow tie... It's all so perfect—I love it.
"Let's go meet your colleagues. And please, stop doing... that..." Tessa shot me a sidelong glance, hand on her hip, gesturing at my figure. I didn't even notice. I only caught her odd look ten seconds later—or more—in the mirror's reflection. It said a lot... Beyond her love for me, it showed what she thought of this whole situation. I'm shocked her eye didn't start twitching.
Embarrassed, I took a few dramatic steps away from the mirror, as if sensing infinite danger from a piece of coated glass. Weird move, sure, but I couldn't help it—that's just me, sorry.
Nodding to some inner thought, Tessa grabbed my hand and dragged me off again. Thankfully, it wasn't another wardrobe but an exit from this one. I mentally sighed as we left this truly fortunate spot... Yeah, we only spent 15-20 minutes here, but that was enough to realize... Tessa's a monster when it comes to clothes and stuff... She could torture me with endless style choices.
We climbed another staircase, much like the basement one—carpeted with sparse patterns. The cheap chandeliers were swapped for pricier versions that gave more light, if you think about it that way. Good thing this manor has electric ones—I wouldn't be surprised if it didn't.
Reaching what I calculated as the second floor, Tessa led me to another door. I vaguely suspected it was a second wardrobe for more torturous waiting, but those fears shattered against the harsh wall of reality.
Tessa opened the door and let me in. Honestly, I expected anything—even a Particle Accelerator! But I didn't expect to see... the canonical trio plus Cyn. The latter sat on a chair, dangling her legs and munching on batteries. The other three stood, eyeing me with a mix of emotions—embarrassment, curiosity, and, of course, irritation. Very cute... No need to guess who was irritated, right?
"Meet Serial Number I (or Ai)," Tessa said, stepping in behind me and poking my shoulder. Very cute.
As a greeting, I waved to everyone in the room. To my surprise, they all waved back—except J. Not shocking.
"I, this is J," Tessa said, pointing at a drone with pigtails whose mere presence screamed "endlessly busy with a mountain of tasks." If not for her glare full of anger, I'd have asked her out... But nah. It's like something's hidden behind that eternal irritation in her eyes... I just don't know what.
"This is V." Tessa moved her hand to a drone with glasses and a cute bob. Like a true gentleman, I approached, bowed, took her hand, and kissed the back of it. That threw everyone into a deep stupor—except Cyn. She just paused her battery-munching and gave me a look I decoded as, "What was that?" J's stupor quickly morphed into a flash of rage she thankfully didn't unleash.
"And this is N." Tessa snapped out of it along with the named drone, who looked at me with boundless admiration. I expected jealousy or hate, but admiration? More questions. Though, I think I get why. He'll definitely ask me for girl-talk lessons... Just realized what I've signed up for...
"You already know Cyn. I need to clean up so my parents don't nag. I won't bother you—get acquainted." Tessa said it quickly, headed to the door, and left, leaving only silence behind.
I slowly turned to the group of drones, who now regarded me with more coherent looks than before. J's eye was twitching.
N spoke first:
"Hello, I! I'm Serial Number N..." The web series' main hero tried to greet me but was rudely cut off by his pigtailed colleague. Guess who? J. Very angry J.
"What was that, you idiot?!" she snapped, storming over and grabbing my collar, clearly trying to lift me off the floor. As I stared into her furious face, I pondered philosophy and random useless crap while she attempted to chew me out for kissing V's hand. I get it, sure, but I don't get it. Why's she doing this? No clue.
"That was 'etiquette,' a word you're clearly familiar with, my dear," I replied, pushing her off me. A slightly wicked, fox-like smile from my past life crept onto my face. That smile annoyed everyone.
J processed my words, huffed one last time, and stormed out, slamming the door. I just smirked. Tsundere. Pure canon—I love it.
"That's J, our, uh, leader," N said, watching the boss who couldn't handle being near me and my snarky tone for long. It's kinda weird, almost comedic. Not that I mind...
"Tessa already introduced you to V. She's a bit shy but should warm up to you. You'll get used to him, right?" he asked the girl, whose digital cheeks still bore a faint, translucent blush.
Realizing attention was on her, she nodded distractedly and sank back into her thoughts, as if processing what happened. No, I'm not stealing N's girl—I don't need that. I like Doll more, anyway... Nuzi's not confirmed yet—only seven episodes out.
"And this is Cyn. She calls me her big brother for some reason—I still don't get why," he said, pointing at my sister, who'd finished her battery pack and was now studying me with intense curiosity. Vivisector-level curiosity...
His whole spiel came with wild gesturing, nearly knocking a painting off the wall. When he noticed, he rushed to fix it, lest—God of Machines forbid—it fell. Something tells me Louisa would nitpick that to death...
"Curious. So I'm not the only one she considers family... You're on the list too? Interesting. Kinda scary, but cute. Right, Cyn? Why do you even do this?" I turned to my big sister, who hadn't taken her eyes off me, like she suspected something. It's still creepy being near her. Feels like she's dissecting me right now and turning me into a disassembly drone.
But the dissonance doesn't help. I'm wary of her yet want to hug and cuddle her until she purrs... What's going on?
"I do what I [think], little [brother] I. Hee-hee," she replied with an artificial giggle. The fact she can laugh says a lot. When she starts voicing it like "[Giggle]," that's when it'll get scary—when the Solver takes her over more and more...
With those weird thoughts, the four of us left the room and headed wherever our eyes took us—aka the bar. There, we'd wait for my assignment to a work branch. That's how my first day at Elliot Manor ended.
One month and three days until the gala.