“The figures who corresponded to Precaria Gem Squad…” He peered at the lady before him, a realization dawning, “So you are the corresponding version of Morganite! No wonder you two looks so similar. But after all these years, you two look quite different now.”

“…different?” She appeared puzzled. Her master had meticulously ensured their similarity, even incorporating Morganite’s hair and mana frequency pattern; there should be no discrepancy between her and Morganite. She was designed to look and act exactly like Morganite!

He switched to his smartphone and searched for recent pictures of Morganite. In the news footage, Morganite was still a teenager, with a baby face and height of only 150cm, exuding the zest of youth. However, the corresponding figure of Morganite before him appeared mature, standing at about 170cm tall. Her fierce and sharp demeanor bore little resemblance to the youthful exuberance of the real Morganite, though there was a subtle similarity upon closer uinspection.

Is it because I had lost half of the FayOra? She pondered silently.

He retrieved his phone and searched for the news of the epic battle almost ten years ago. The frontline reporter had managed to capture some footage, depicting a girl clad in dark pink and black battle gear who look identical to Morganite at the time.

“So…” He signed, “You’ve been battling with Precaria Gem Squad since birth?”

She nodded.

No wonder she had those weird movements. He mused, she’s essentially a blank slate, with no knowledge of human world or even basic social etiquette. After losing her master and comrades, she doesn’t know what to do next because she had lost her sense of purpose …

He fell into a contemplative silence, and mirrored his lack of words, her gaze fixed ahead with an expression devoid of emotion. She resembled a movable yet soulless mannequin, her blank stare hinting at a profound emptiness. A sudden surge of sympathy and sadness overwhelmed him, akin to witnessing a news report about a pet unable to forget its owner after being abandoned. He felt an urge to reach out, to hold and comfort her. If the old owner cared so little, perhaps he could step in and offer care instead…

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

Abruptly standing up, he snapped her out of her reverie, but he said nothing as he exited the room. Moments later, he returned bearing two plates.

“Do you know how tasty food tastes?” he asked, his inquiry seemingly coming out of nowhere.

Though taken aback by the unexpected question, she answered simply, “No.”

Her first experience with food had been the breakfast she had in his home the morning before.

Inviting her to sample the food on the left plate, he observed her furrow her brows in contemplation, as if debating whether to spit it out. Nevertheless, she chose to swallow the food, washing it down with the water she had barely touched since she was given the glass.

Delighted by her willingness, he pushed the right plate toward her. “Now, try this.”

Cautiously, she regarded him with doubt, her apprehension palpable as she hesitated to taste the unfamiliar offering. Despite her reservations, she tentatively reached out under his expectant gaze. Taking a bite, her furrowed brow eased, and he detected a glimmer of joy at the corners of her lips.

As he watched her devour the cupcake in a few swift bites, he inquire, “Now, do you know the difference?”

She nodded in response.

She’s a living being. He reflected, she would smile when she enjoying something delicious, retrest when she feared harming others, and bravely confront danger to aid those in need, even if it meant facing creatures from the same origin as herself.

A grin spread across his face. Though she’s a bit too large to be considered a pet, it does seem rather interesting, doesn’t it?

“I’m Bahyun, Qen Bahyun.” He introduced himself, setting the plates aside. Gently stroking her silky long hair, he met her puzzled gaze. “And as for your name…A dark-pinkish red gemstone seems fitting. You shall be named Almandine. How does that sound?”

“Alman…dine?” She repeated, her confusion evident.

“Yes, Almandine.” He confirmed with a smile, “You are not Morganite; you are Almandine.”