Adam was listening, while Yuruki stood beside him, watching the doll at his side.
He always carries it everywhere, somehow… She decided not to ask about it unless he brought it up first.
"This song… it's familiar."
Yuruki's lips slowly curved into a wider smile. "Hmm? Huh?…" She was the one who created it.
"It's like I've heard it from the past… like on the phone."
Yuruki thought about it for a moment. "You have a telecorenet? I can't believe those old, beautiful things are still around."
But she was still curious…
Adam couldn't hold it in anymore.,
"I can't… it's impossible. Someone like me? I always fail."
His voice cracked slightly as he fidgeted, a quiet pain running through his words. Doubt clung to him like dust.
"If I didn't have any power, I'd still be that weak person… If Yoku wasn't there, I'd still be like that. The only reason I even have this power… these things… is because people gave them to me."
He looked down at the grass.
It wasn't normal grass. It was too soft, too perfect—no sharp edges. Even the insects drifting through it looked calm, almost artificial in their gentleness. Everything here felt… wrong in how right it was.
As it should be.
Yuruki stood nearby, watching him. Her expression had changed. The smile was gone now.
It wasn't anger.
It was something quieter.
Like she was studying him.
"Adam…" Her voice was steady. "Don't be like that. You're more than you think you are."
"You dont..."
Her eyes held firm on him, unwavering. It made him tense, a thin layer of sweat forming at his skin. Then, just as quickly, her expression shifted—her lips curling again, but softer this time, almost tired.
"Don't seem to understand"
"You just… didn't have the opportunity to show how great you can really be."
Adam swallowed, unsettled by how direct she was.
Then he noticed it.
Her hair.
It had been bright yellow before, but now it had faded—paler, like it was returning to something older. Something less alive.
"Oh?" She tilted her head slightly, noticing his stare. "Noticing my hair?"
She gave a small shrug.
"My body produces its own antioxidants when exposed to UV light… but without stimulation over time, it regresses. So this is my baseline hair color."
Adam blinked.
"What? Don't like an old woman?" she added lightly, teasing. "Now that I've got a decade on me, you think I'm not good enough?"
The joke slipped in easily.
He let out a short laugh before he could stop himself.
And then she laughed too.
For a moment, the air loosened between them.
She stood up first, brushing off nothing in particular.
"Come on," Yuruki said. "The reason those humanoid people were in distress was because they were ignorant."
("Just like those fools")
" And since I haven't been outside in a while… that's why they felt powerless. They just didn't understand what they were seeing."
Adam stood and followed.
She walked ahead for a bit—then slowed until she was beside him again, matching his pace without making it obvious.
"Don't worry," she added, almost casually. "I'll show you what I can do in the future."
A small hum escaped her. Something almost playful.
"...Heh."
But Adam still felt it lingering.
That uncertainty.
Even as the facility around them stayed too perfect, too calm, too safe.
Unlike the real world...
He exhaled quietly.
Everything's fine.
The thought didn't quite settle.
But he kept walking anyway.
As Yuruki walks beside him, even though Adam was distancing away... "Everything's gonna be fine... Your not alone"
As she melancholy looks at him from beside.
"Hehh, trust me... Theres no limit in technology like human imagination, so dont limit yourself also by being sad..."
Yuruki kept walking beside Adam.
("C'mon, Yuruki… don't give up to entropy… don't show it.")
"Yeah…"