"Clearly just such a simple sentence... clearly I could have made it clear right away... clearly..."
Himeko couldn't continue.
How many times had this "clearly..." repeated in her mind throughout her life? Himeko had lost count.
But at this moment, when she really shouted this sentence to Ryusuke Murata, she still couldn't help but sob uncontrollably.
And it was long after that that Ryusuke Murata came back to arrange a funeral for Mom. That funeral was grand, and Ryusuke appeared very silent, so silent that everyone present thought Ryusuke was too grieved to communicate.
Ha... look, how sad he is...
How intoxicated he is...
He...
He was even checking his 'crucial' experimental data at Mom's funeral.
The moment Himeko saw the documents in Ryusuke Murata's hands, she suddenly understood.
In this man's life, she and Mom were just insignificant embellishments, burdens on his path of chasing dreams.
She dared not think about whether Ryusuke Murata complained about Mom causing him trouble when rushing back. She dared not think...
So she left... starting to live alone at the age of twelve, making a living, supporting herself.
And her father, as she expected, had no contact with her after the first year.
She thought she would never see this man again in her life. In so many years of life, she even tried to persuade herself... this man should belong to all mankind, not be trapped to death in this secular world.
But...
But!!
Why... in this guy's dream... are there also insignificant parts!?
"Ryusuke Murata... in your heart... what exactly... do we count as in your busy great life... the nth 'sure'? The nth... insignificant 'small problem'?!"
Himeko's questioning exhausted her last trace of strength and also drained all the hypocritical warmth in this room.
She spoke no more, just standing there, shoulders trembling slightly.
Only her gaze had re-condensed from collapsed rage into a desolate wasteland rejecting people thousands of miles away.
She looked at him, waiting for any possible defense he might have.
Or what disgusted her more, a belated performance of "paternal love."
Ryusuke Murata didn't answer immediately.
The habitual, gentle yet alienated smile on his face had long disappeared, replaced by a near-blank calm.
He even bent down in front of Himeko, picking up the personal terminal dropped on the ground due to agitation.
Ryusuke Murata's movement of gently brushing off dust was meticulous, as if the soul-tearing accusation just now was merely insignificant background noise.
He listened silently to Himeko's final weeping complaint, waiting for that suffocating crying to gradually cease, leaving only suppressed sobbing and heavy silence in the room.
Then, he raised his eyes, looking at Himeko. There was no panic in his eyes, nor guilt or anger, only a focus close to assessment.
"I'm sorry, Himeko."
He spoke. His voice was so steady, every clear word seemingly carefully considered.
He had no choking or excitement, just stating an objective fact.
"Regarding your mother, regarding you... over these dozen years, I indeed have inescapable responsibility. It was my negligence that caused irreversible consequences.
"I apologize to you."
Apology.
He finally said these words. But...
Listening to this apology in Himeko's ears made her feel colder than any defense.
Too standard, too "correct."
It was the "optimal solution" derived after precise calculation, a logical step taken to cope with the current situation of "daughter's emotional breakdown."
Himeko couldn't hear heart-wrenching remorse in this sentence, couldn't hear true mourning for the lost life, only the calmness of completing a procedure.
"I don't need it." Himeko heard her own dry voice sound, much calmer than before, also much colder. "Your apology changes nothing.
"I will never forgive you." She said categorically. This was an oath never shaken in her heart.
Mission... Rocket... Nano-units...
The voice of reason knocked deep in her mind again, weak but unignorable.
Emotions were vented, but the goal hadn't been achieved yet.
They needed those things, for that slim hope of ending the loop.
Continue to stay here, continue to deal with this man who makes me nauseous, even... maybe pretend to accept this hypocritical apology, act out a "father-daughter reconciliation" play?
Just thinking about this possibility made her stomach churn.
Emotions were screaming crazily to flee, but the sense of responsibility nailed her in place like shackles.
Just as the balance in her heart swayed violently between extreme disgust and cold mission, reason almost forcibly pressing down emotions, forcing herself to make a "wiser" choice—
Ryusuke Murata suddenly raised his hand, taking off the identity authentication wristband on his wrist that looked ordinary but was actually deeply bound to his research database.
He didn't explain, didn't hesitate, just like handling an experimental step, gently tossing the wristband to Himeko.
Himeko caught it subconsciously.
As the cold metal touch entered her hand, a faint light flashed on the side of the wristband, and a gentle electronic female voice sounded.
"Identity authentication passed. Highest authority granted: Himeko Murata. Access channel to 'Cicada Slough' protocol and affiliated technology library opened."
Himeko froze, completely froze. She looked down at the small wristband in her hand, then suddenly looked up at her father.
She envisioned countless possible developments: difficult negotiations, harsh conditions, possible refusal... but she never thought it would be like this.
No additional requirements, no questioning usage, just giving her the highest authority he regarded as the foundation of his career so casually.
So just now, she collapsed because of this contempt.
And now, she was still stunned by this.
Ryusuke Murata looked at her stunned face. The corner of his mouth seemed to twitch extremely slightly. It wasn't a smile, more like a kind of... understanding fatigue.
"The things you need are all in there.
"Calling methods and precautions, the system will guide you." His voice remained steady. "You... can go now."
Can go now.
These words were like a key, opening both the cage and the door of release.
Himeko clenched the wristband. The metal edge pressed against her palm, undeniably real.
She looked at her father. That familiar face still had no expression, no retention, no effort to repair the relationship, not even more response to her accusation just now.
As if handing over authority was the end of his handling of the event "daughter returns and gets emotional."
An absurd emptiness and sorrow of feelings being completely ignored drowned her.
She opened her mouth, eventually saying nothing.
Any words seemed superfluous and ridiculous at this moment.
She turned around, walking towards the door.
Her steps were a bit floaty, but her back was straight.
Just as her hand was about to touch the doorknob, the movement stopped.
She didn't look back. Her voice wasn't high, but echoed clearly in the silent room, carrying a near-nihilistic calm after the dust settled:
"Father."
Ryusuke Murata seemed to move slightly.
"A person's dream..." Himeko paused, as if chewing on this word that pained her for half her life, "really can override everything? Override responsibility, override... living people?"
Brief silence.
Then, she heard her father's voice from behind. No excitement, no defense, even carrying a scholar-discussing-problem flatness, yet containing some deep-rooted belief.
"Heh." He chuckled lightly, no joy in that laughter.
"Do you know, Himeko? Everything of humanity—society, civilization, emotion, morality—in the final analysis, is constructed by objective material basis.
"But what drives this body, fills this skeleton, keeping it from becoming a walking dead... is dream, even the tiniest, most ridiculous dream.
"If a person loses even their dream, then they have already... died in this quagmire named 'reality' or 'society.'
"The only difference lies in when the body rots."
His words were like ice picks piercing into Himeko's long-frozen heart lake, stirring no ripples, only leaving deeper chill and... a trace of indescribable pity.
Himeko stood in place, back to him, silent for a few seconds. The wristband was held hot in her palm.
Finally, she said nothing more, just turned the doorknob and walked out.
Only at the moment the door was about to close completely, an extremely light sentence, almost swallowed by the corridor air, drifted in, clearly entering Ryusuke Murata's ears:
"Then your life... is truly pathetic."
Pathetic enough to choose to entrust his dream to the "family" he once disdained when at his wit's end.
The door clicked softly, closed tight.
No way out anymore.