The sky was painted in hues of gold and amber as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the camp. The faint crackle of the newly lit campfire broke the evening's calm. With a snap of his fingers, Nanik had effortlessly ignited the flames before retreating to his own spot by the fire. Meanwhile, Otome, Victoria, and Huranti busied themselves setting up makeshift tents with the tarp and rope Otome had purchased at the market.
I sat on a nearby rock, the basket of groceries now empty beside me, and let out a quiet sigh. The gentle flicker of the firelight played across my face as I stared into the flames, lost in thought. For the first time in what felt like ages, I allowed myself a moment of relief. It wasn’t much—a small camp, a simple meal, and the company of others—but it was something. A reprieve from the unrelenting uncertainty that had shadowed me since I woke in this unfamiliar world.
I leaned back slightly, letting the warmth of the fire seep into my skin. Finally, a break, I thought, though the unease in the pit of my stomach refused to completely dissipate. The world around me was vast, intricate, and filled with layers I couldn’t yet comprehend. But here, at least for now, there was a sense of grounding.
I decided to look at the terminal, and the black and white window popped up as I activated it. A familiar string of notifications greeted me, their text glowing faintly in the dim light. One in particular caught my eye:
[Memory Reenactment skill unlocked and available for use.]
I stared at the words for a moment, my heartbeat quickening. This was the ability I had acquired during the battle at Moon Dallah. It wasn’t just a tool; it was a lifeline, a way to piece together the fragments of memory and identity I was still chasing.
Before I could dwell further, another notification blinked into view:
[Prerequisite met: Corporeal Data Creation has reached Level 5. Evolution available: Mimic]
I blinked, reading the words again to ensure I hadn’t misinterpreted them. Mimic? I looked at what I needed to do to unlock and the condition puzzled me.
[Analyze the body of an entity to unlock the Skill: Mimic]
The implications churned in my mind. Mimic. A skill that carried a price so high in the terminal shop that it wasn’t something that I even considered attainable. What could it do? The thought stirred a heady mix of curiosity and unease. Whatever it was, it wouldn’t come without risk.
The fire crackled louder, pulling me back into the moment. Around me, the camp remained alive with quiet purpose. Otome tightened a knot, her movements precise and sure. Victoria’s vermillion hair shifted as she worked, the color glowing like embers in the dim light. Huranti’s silhouette moved along the edge of the clearing, a vigilant shadow against the deepening night.
They were immersed in their tasks, their focus unwavering. Yet here I sat, the weight of a choice pressing heavily on my chest. The terminal’s screen pulsed faintly in my hand, the skill’s availability almost taunting me.
‘Should I activate Memory Reenactment now?’ The thought lingered, heavy and uncertain. The memory of what happened when I first unlocked the Corporeal Data Creation skill still made me pause. The disorientation, the physical strain—it wasn’t something I wanted to relive in front of everyone. The last thing I needed was to alarm them unnecessarily or to have them misinterpret what was happening.
I glanced around the camp. Otome, Victoria, and Huranti were still engrossed in their tasks, while Nanik sat across from me by the fire, his attention somewhere distant. I turned the terminal over in my hand, its faint hum barely perceptible above the soft crackle of the flames.
‘Better to do this out of sight.’
I cleared my throat softly, drawing Nanik’s gaze. “I think I’ll turn in for the day now,” I said, letting a trace of weariness slip into my voice. “I’m beat.”
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He gave me a slight nod, his expression unreadable but understanding. “Rest up. Tomorrow we need to decide what to do going forward.”
“Yeah,” I replied with a faint smile, rising to my feet and brushing off the dust clinging to my clothes.
I picked up the basket and turned away from the fire, weaving past the scattered supplies and makeshift tents toward the darker edges of the camp. The quiet grew heavier as I moved further from the group, the golden hues of the sunset giving way to deep blues and purples. Shadows stretched long over the ground, their shapes twisting in the flickering light of the fire behind me.
Finding a secluded spot among the trees, I set the basket down and leaned against a sturdy trunk. The faint rustle of leaves above and the distant murmurs of the camp were the only sounds now. My heart quickened as I activated the terminal again, the screen glowing faintly against the encroaching dark.
‘If this skill was meant to help me piece things together, then it was worth the risk.’
I quickly checked the time so I could figure out how long I would be out. ‘7:25 pm, noted.’ Taking a steadying breath, I tapped on the notification for Memory Reenactment and waited for the unknown to unfold.
The world around me dissolved as a skull-splitting pain ripped through my head, a searing sensation that seemed to burrow into the deepest recesses of my mind. My vision blurred, the edges darkening as my pupils dilated unnaturally. My eyelids grew impossibly heavy, forcing themselves shut. Just before the darkness claimed me, the faint glow of the terminal’s message burned itself into my vision:
[Reenacting collected memory]
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When I opened my eyes again, I found myself in a place I didn’t recognize. The air was still, filled with a faint scent of wood and herbs. I was sitting on the floor of what appeared to be a small, humble room. The planks beneath me creaked softly as I shifted, their smooth surface worn from years of use.
I glanced down at myself, taking in the loose, baggy clothing draped over me. A simple design, unadorned but comfortable. It reminded me of the garments I’d read about from Kagakuni—kimonos, I think they called them. I remembered learning about them through my scattered searches online, a detail that somehow felt both distant and intimately familiar.
Before me, a frail figure lay on the ground. A young girl, no older than eight or nine, her disheveled purple hair spilling around her delicate face. Her sunken eyes, a haunting mirror of my own, gazed up at me with a faint shimmer of hope.
Her lips moved, her voice a faint, trembling whisper.
“T-Tokei... When do you think I’ll be better? I’ve been sick for two whole days now…”
The words struck me like a tidal wave, but before I could process them, my body moved of its own accord. Words spilled from my lips, not my own, yet achingly familiar.
“Don’t worry, Otome. I’ll be right here with you until you get better. And when you’re all better, we’ll go play by the pond that you like so much.”
The girl’s expression shifted, a flicker of light igniting in her weary eyes. “Really? Then it’s a promise.”
Her small hand reached out, trembling slightly, her pinky extended. Without hesitation, my hand—a hand not entirely my own—reached forward and linked pinkies with hers.
“Promise,” I heard myself say.
Her smile bloomed like a fragile flower, radiant despite her frailty. We laughed softly together, the sound warm and unguarded, like sunlight breaking through a stormy sky.
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Gasp.
I jolted upright, my chest heaving. The world around me swam back into focus—the trees, the distant flicker of the campfire, the quiet hum of the night.
Warm tears streamed down my face, unbidden and unstoppable. I tried to wipe them away with my sleeve, but the flood continued. My breaths came in shallow, uneven gasps as the memory played on a loop in my mind.
“Otome…” I whispered hoarsely, the name catching in my throat. The weight of the reenactment, of what I had just witnessed, settled heavily on me.
‘Is she really my sister?’ The thought lingered as I wiped at the last remnants of tears on my face. ‘This all seems too good to be true... but even if it’s not, it gives me a sense of belonging.’
Before the moment could slip away entirely, I glanced at the time displayed on my terminal: ‘7:38 PM.’ Thirteen minutes had passed since I activated the skill.
My tears had finally subsided, leaving behind an odd mix of exhaustion and clarity. Taking a steady breath, I pushed myself back onto my feet, brushing dirt off my clothes. Picking up the basket I had brought with me earlier, I gave the clearing one last glance.
“I should get back now,” I murmured to myself, turning toward the camp. The faint light of the fire in the distance was a comforting guide as I made my way back.