The image Eve recalled of her father was a man in a worn white coat, always wearing an apologetic expression behind glasses. His black hair streaked with white, gaunt cheeks, dark circles under his eyes, and the lingering scent of tobacco when she neared him… No matter how often she urged him to quit smoking, her father would puff away, offering a tired smile and meaningless apologies. To Eve, this was unbearable, prompting her to step back, her warnings sharp.
She couldn’t fathom why he’d inhale something so harmful. Smoking lacked any shred of rationality—a fleeting boost in efficiency at the cost of time and life, utterly illogical. Her father, a scientist and technician, surely understood this, knowing it was wasteful and meaningless. Yet he couldn’t stop. Watching his back as he tapped at the keyboard from afar, Eve sighed deeply, opened the lab door, and headed to the living room where her mother and Canaan were.
Seeing Canaan nestled in her mother’s embrace, Eve felt a pang of jealousy at her sister’s happiness. Her mother’s soft smile and beckoning hand tempted Eve to seek comfort too, but she hesitated. Rejecting the urge, she spread her study materials on the table and activated the HHPC’s holo-monitor.
She couldn’t escape her mission. From the moment of her birth, she had to face her predetermined fate. Destiny loomed closer with time, clinging like a shadow—a future already here. Wise, mature beyond her years, Eve ignored Nameless’s advice smoldering in her chest, steeling herself to confront her role.
“Eve,” her mother called.
“What, Mom?” Eve replied.
“Why not take a break? Studying nonstop will exhaust you.”
“…”
Silently gripping her pen, Eve transcribed the avatar AI’s words from the holo-monitor, typing questions for parts she didn’t understand.
“Is your dad’s research still taking a while?” her mother asked.
“…”
“For dinner, I’ll make what you like, Eve. What do you want? Curry? Hamburgers? Maybe hot pot?”
“Anything’s fine,” Eve said.
“…”
“Be quiet for a bit, Mom. Take care of Canaan. I’m fine, don’t worry.”
“Eve…” her mother murmured.
Tying her hair back, Eve gathered her HHPC and study materials, heading to her shared room with Canaan. Placing her things on the tidy desk, she sat and sighed.
Even blood-related kin, even a sister sharing her blood, were ultimately others. Family was just a gathering of strangers. Each member held different wills, expressions of individual freedom. So, yielding their mother’s love to Canaan and feeling jealousy was neither unnatural nor wrong.
But… seeing the family photo on the desk’s edge, Eve sighed again, picking it up and tracing it with slender fingers.
Her father’s awkward smile, her mother’s timeless beauty, the sisters’ beaming faces—perhaps from their seventh birthday? Dressed in lovely clothes, innocent, unquestioning of happiness. If she hadn’t known the gap between past and present, if she hadn’t understood her role, how happy she might’ve been. No, such thoughts were wrong.
Maybe she just wanted to escape—discard her mission, role, and duty to be a girl spoiled by her parents. But she didn’t know how to seek comfort. Unable to fully accept love, she pushed it onto Canaan, then envied her. The emotional prison she built caged her in iron bars, spawning more toxic feelings. Hating herself, tormented by self-loathing, she sank into her heart’s dark depths, unaware of how to climb out or rise.
She couldn’t ask for help—this was her self-made prison.
She wouldn’t seek salvation—only she could save her heart.
She couldn’t rely on others—that meant losing to herself.
Even to family, Eve wouldn’t ask for help. Being saved by strangers, even family, meant nothing if she couldn’t accept it.
She thought herself so troublesome. If she could change, recall how to seek comfort, return to that time, maybe… But that would deny her current self. Denying now would question everything she’d built, revealing her path as a mistake. Affirmation bred denial; denial birthed rejection. It was… utterly foolish.
Clutching the photo frame to her chest, hugging her knees, Eve veiled her face with long silver hair. Hiding invisible tears, silencing her heart’s cries, she bowed her head. The desk lamp glinted off her silver hair, illuminating her porcelain skin like a perfected artwork—a girl who seemed to have wandered from a painting into a world of black and white, tormented.
“…”
In this state, studying was impossible. Maybe her mother was right—she should rest. Reaching for the HHPC’s power switch to dim the holo-monitor, Eve noticed an email notification. The sender’s address, garbled with strange characters, seemed like a misdelivery or system error. Frowning suspiciously, she moved to delete it.
“…What?”
The HHPC wouldn’t respond. Neither keyboard nor swipe inputs worked. Bewildered by the anomaly, Eve grabbed a hack-tool from the desk drawer, plugged in a hack-cable, and ran diagnostics.
“…”
Voltage, circuits, software, UI—all normal. What was the cause? External hacking? No, the HHPC, a high-security biometric computer, couldn’t be accessed without admin rights, not even by the ark’s upper echelons. So why…?
The email flickered, drawing her gaze as if urging a tap. “…” Suspecting a virus, she knew clicking was foolish.
In a moment that felt like minutes, swallowing hard, Eve tapped the email, feeling both shock and relief at the sender’s name.
“You doing okay? I’m sending a secure comms program and a dedicated AI. Attach the HHPC to your wrist and install it into your Lumina.”
The sender was Nameless. The attached programs were a gift for Eve—a secure communication channel with the nameless man.
Installing the comms program and AI into the HHPC, Eve attached the device to her wrist, integrating the programs into her body’s nanomachines—Lumina—via direct brain upload.
Protected by an advanced bio-security system, the programs ensured that any attempt by others to access her HHPC or Lumina would trigger Nameless’s counter-hack via a backdoor. Harming or exploiting Eve was rebellion against Nameless, the ark’s overseer—a losing battle. Mastering the ark’s network, monitoring it 24/7/365, Nameless could pinpoint adversaries instantly and eliminate them via automated systems, a veritable deus ex machina.
Finishing the installation, Eve opened her prismatic eyes, removed the HHPC, and exhaled. Activating the holo-monitor, a new message appeared.
An unfamiliar UI and software name—naturally, as the comms program was Nameless’s custom creation, a secret shared only by the girl and the old man. Heart racing with excitement over their private matter, Eve opened the message, hearing an unfamiliar mechanical voice: “Admin Eve, communication from Master.”
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“W-Who’s that?” Eve asked.
“I am Nephthys, a combat-support AI tailored for Admin Eve by Master Nameless. Pleased to meet you.”
“Nephthys…? You’re an AI?”
“Yes, I am designed to assist your combat operations. Has Master Nameless told you nothing?”
“No, not yet…”
“Understood. Admin Eve, I recommend initiating communication with Master. Also, as I’m integrated into your Lumina, verbal conversation is unnecessary.”
“…Right.”
Clearing her throat, Eve connected a foldable keyboard to the HHPC, typing, “Done, Nameless.”
“Good. Is the combat-support AI syncing with your Lumina, Eve?”
“Yes, thanks. What’s this about, all of a sudden?”
“I thought you’d need a way to contact me. When you and Canaan come, use this messaging software. Normal means won’t reach me.”
“Why?”
“Few in the ark know of me, and fewer know the name Nameless—only you, Canaan, and your parents. The foolish rulers use my identification code, but no one must know ‘Nameless.’ You’re smart enough to understand, right?”
“…”
Pausing her typing, Eve touched her chin, narrowing her eyes and nodding.
Knowing Nameless—his very name—carried risks. She imagined automated elimination systems materializing, riddling her with bullets. Shuddering, she typed, “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Perhaps the messaging software was to prevent her from carelessly speaking his name—a precaution, his way of protecting her and Canaan. A defense for a man confined to his room, the combat-support AI a trump card for emergencies. Unbinding her silver hair, Eve rubbed her cold shoulder, satisfied.
“I’ll send Canaan the same program. Any objections? Like you, she bears fate and mission; a communication channel would be convenient.”
“No.”
“Why? I demand an explanation for your irrational response. Why reject my proposal, Eve?”
“That girl… Canaan isn’t ready for her mission and fate. Sending her this now is dangerous. Give it to her when she needs it.”
“You call my proposal a risk but ignore the potential collapse. Listen—Canaan knows the name Nameless. If she speaks it in daily life and the rulers hear, how will you take responsibility? A little girl like you can’t bear that burden.”
“…!!”
Nameless’s casual words squeezed Eve’s heart, chilling her spine.
“Did you truly listen to me? Eve, those weren’t mere words—a warning. A human who can’t trust, lean on, or be saved by others sinks into the abyss like dust. Canaan, your sister, isn’t as weak as you think. She might become stronger than you, for better or worse.”
What, did she think as a sister she must always surpass, never be outdone by Canaan? Nameless’s silent voice, displayed on the holo-monitor, clawed at Eve’s mind, touching places she didn’t want exposed.
“…You,” her slender fingers typed furiously. “What do you know?! You’re not family—why should you judge me?!” She poured her emotions into words.
“I have to be strong!! Smarter than anyone, guiding Canaan… holding her hand!! She’s always on the verge of tears, scared, timid!! I have to protect her… as her sister, I must show her my back to follow…”
“Eve.”
“…”
“I’m not your family, just a stranger you met recently. As a stranger, I could dismiss your family issues. But I can offer advice and warnings. Know why?”
“…I don’t.”
“The same logic as yours. As an elder, I can guide those with expectations. As an outsider, I can view situations objectively and advise. Eve, you and Canaan are twins, souls split in two, but your thoughts and feelings differ. Family or not, others are others—but don’t forget, others can also stand by you.”
“…”
“Eve, your shoulders bear the heavy chains of mission and fate. But so do Canaan’s. An overwhelming destiny can kill, turning precious feelings to ash. The difference in degree aside… having someone see you at eye level can save you. I only had one such person, but he’s dead. My pain, my torment—no one’s left to understand. Eve… don’t become like me. Be someone who can save or be saved. Understood?”
“Nameless… I…”
Before she could send the next message, “Connection Terminated” erased her words. No matter how many messages she sent, the ark’s network refused to reconnect to Nameless.
“…”
The self is seen by others; others are seen by these eyes. Then… to connect and stand by someone is to be oneself.
Nodding slightly, Eve rose from her chair, opened the door, and stepped toward the living room where her family waited.
Anyone can fear facing others, even family. Losing the moment to speak breeds hesitation.
Gripping the living room’s doorknob, feeling the iron warmed by her palm, Eve wavered. What should she say to her parents? How should she face Canaan? Speaking of her mission, she’d likely feign strength, hiding her true feelings. To guide Canaan, she’d suppress her heart to play the strong sister. That felt… pathetic, a weak heart she despised.
She didn’t know how to seek comfort, had forgotten how to show weakness. No… she was terrified—of failing expectations, of exposing her age-appropriate fragility.
Shaking her head, exhaling a long sigh, Eve pushed down her heart’s silent screams. Loosening her grip on the knob, she turned back to her room, her prismatic eyes holding the corridor’s dim darkness, turning from the living room’s light.
People don’t change easily. Even heeding Nameless’s advice, Eve needed to resolve to change herself. She understood this, had the will to act, but her rigid thoughts trampled her resolve, dismissing her purpose and mission as unnecessary.
“…”
If the plan succeeded, if she could live on the surface, what would become of her? Was there value beyond her mission-driven life? She didn’t know… the unseen future, the obscured hope, terrified her. The thought of empty hands was unbearable.
“Eve? What’s wrong?” her mother’s voice called.
“…!” Eve flinched, turning to see her mother.
Framed by the living room’s light, her mother’s face was shadowed, her silver hair sparkling like stardust.
“Dinner’s ready. You must be tired. Come here.”
“…”
“Eve?”
Her mother’s gentle, loving voice and outstretched, glossy hand. Staring at the shadowed face, Eve nodded slightly and took it.
Soft, cool, slightly damp—her mother wasn’t frail but prone to colds, feverish if she didn’t dry her hair, once nearly pneumonia. Eve knew this, didn’t want to burden her. Yet, to her parents, Eve’s precocious calm and complex heart made her both low-maintenance and inscrutable.
“I made your favorites for dinner, okay?” her mother said.
“…Yeah,” Eve replied.
“Hamburgers and curry—you love those, right? Eat as much as you want.”
“…”
“Eve?”
She should’ve acted childishly happy. Then her mother wouldn’t look anxious, wouldn’t offer a strained smile. Noticing this, Eve forced a smile.
“…Eve,” her mother said.
“What, Mom?”
“Are you troubled by something?”
Eve’s heart raced, her stomach tightening.
“Troubled? Nothing’s wrong,” she said.
“…I’m worried, you know.”
“…”
“I always burden you, can’t pamper you. Each time, you grow up too fast, beyond what your dad or I know, acting older than you are. I worry you’re forcing yourself to seem more than a child, losing your childishness.”
Her interactions with Nameless remained unnoticed. Relieved, Eve crafted the words her mother wanted.
“No problem. I’m the older sister. Canaan needs you, and I’ll make sure Dad and everyone’s plan succeeds. Don’t worry—I’m fine.”
“…”
Speaking words adults wanted, rationalizing to ease them, always made them sigh in relief, trusting her and stepping back.
This was her armor of words—steel rationality ignoring logic, deflecting emotional spears, piercing anxious swords. A defense mechanism showing strength, hiding weakness, its thorns wounded others, pushing them away, plunging Eve into loneliness’s mire.
Saying “I’m fine” was never true. Claiming “no problem” hid issues with lies, mere deceit. Wanting worry but suppressing tears to reassure others, Eve’s actions dragged her down a harsher path, a self-inflicted wound leading to a molten hell.
“Mom, don’t worry about me—”
Her mother embraced her, stroking her head.
“…You’re always…”
“…”
“Eve, you’re still a child. Kids can be spoiled by adults. No matter what anyone says, you have the right to be selfish. Duty is for adults—you can wield a child’s rights. Don’t push yourself. Even if you push others away, we’ll guard your place to return. That’s… family, isn’t it?”
The warmth, warmer than memory, melted the chains binding Eve’s heart.
“If you’re troubled, talk to me. If you can’t speak, write a message or letter. Eve… no matter how you see family, parents care for their child. Even if hated or raged at, we want to hold your hand… share joy, sorrow, support each other—that’s what I think a parent and child are.”
Family was just strangers gathered, a collection of others. Like humans unable to fully understand each other, even parents and children couldn’t achieve mutual understanding. Yet, perhaps because of kinship, her mother’s words shattered Eve’s armor, baring her hidden heart.
“…I…”
“…”
“Can I… be spoiled? By you and Dad… like Canaan?”
“Of course, Eve. You’re still a child—no need to think of adult responsibilities like us. If you can’t lean on others, be a child with us… with Canaan, okay?”
“…”
Wiping natural tears, sobbing, Eve gripped her mother’s hands, nodding.
Even if she didn’t know how to seek comfort or show weakness, someone understanding her heart was irreplaceable. Feeling her mother’s love, the heartbeat resonating through their touch, Eve whispered, “…Thank you, Mom.”
“Mom.”
“What, Eve?”
“Let’s eat soon. Um… Canaan and Dad are waiting.”
“No need to rush—nothing’s going anywhere. So…”
“So?”
“Be healthy… okay, Eve?”
“…Yeah!”
With a bright smile, Eve pulled her mother’s hand toward the living room, her mother following. They stepped toward the radiant warmth of family.
