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"That fool truly researches the dumbest of things."
The tone ca without irritation or amusent—just a flat, androgynous voice. The words had been spoken as though out of habit more than anything. It settled into the space, blending with the sound of machinery.
The room was vast, almost excessively so, with its polished marble floor reflecting glows from the countless panels embedded into the walls. Those panels seed to work independently, each with its purpose. So projected blue holograms—rotating architectural structures marked with red highlights, flaws isolated, and annotated. Others displayed segnted schematics of machinery—arms, legs, torsos, and weapon systems—each one dissected into parts and labeled. A few screens, more oddly, displayed living subjects: animals in controlled environnts—monkeys pacing, lions resting, and rats navigating mazes—data scrolling endlessly beside them.
There was no cohesion to it at first glance. Just systems.
And then there was the clutter.
tallic limbs lay scattered across the room, so pristine and others incomplete, with wires spilling from open joints. Heavy alloy components leaned against walls without care. Weapons—blades with unfinished edges and cannons half-assembled—were left where they had last been used, as if their placent held no importance once their function had been understood. The air carried a persistent scent of oil and heated tal, clinging to everything.
Yet the sole figure in the room seed entirely unbothered by any of it.
Seated casually in a black office chair near a clean, almost sterile white desk, the red-haired youth appeared at odds with their surroundings. Blueprints and dismantled components covered the desk in disarray, though not randomly—there was an order to it, one that only they seed to understand.
Their posture was relaxed, pale hands held a rectangular tablet, its translucent blue screen casting a glow upward. Long, vivid red hair fell forward, obscuring their eyes completely, leaving only the lower half of their delicate face visible, they seed bored.
Their attire was simplistic: a sleeveless black shirt with a mock neck, matching trousers, and boots.
"Hm, altering the composition of an animal's brain to increase self-awareness…" the youth murmured, voice thoughtful for only a mont before flattening again. A small scoff followed. "What's the use in that, exactly? What do you even gain from sothing like that?"
The question wasn't directed at anyone, so it went unanswered.
They shifted slightly, folding their legs up into the chair with ease, spinning idly as their thumb dragged across the tablet's surface.
"Simians exhibit the highest success rate when it cos to increasing cognitive function…" they continued, reading aloud without interest, their tone becoming more chanical the longer they spoke. "Chimpanzees, bonobos, gorillas, orangutans, predictable. They were always going to be the easiest candidates."
A pause followed with a slow swipe.
"Success rates for Aves remain low. Brain structures too simplistic to sustain prolonged enhancent, neural instability observed across—" They cut themselves off with an exhale. "Right. Of course. A dull conclusion."
Their grip loosened.
The tablet was tossed onto the desk without ceremony, sliding slightly on scattered papers before coming to a stop. The youth leaned back in the chair, dainty arms folding behind their head, gaze still hidden beneath that curtain of red.
"What a waste of resources," they muttered in a quieter tone, though no less certain. "All that effort for sothing that doesn't even matter."
For a mont, there was only the sound of the room again.
Then the pale double doors at the far end slid open with a chanical hiss.
"Ugh, of course you're here. Where else would you be, you brat?"
The voice that entered carried irritation, it didn't belong in this sterile environnt, and yet it cut through it easily.
The youth didn't respond imdiately.
Instead, they shifted their weight slightly, letting the chair spin with a slow motion until they were facing the doorway. They didn't stand or adjust their posture beyond that.
The man standing there looked older—middle-aged, worn in ways that went beyond appearance. His slicked-back black hair was imperfectly kept, and his faded blue eyes scanned the room briefly before settling on the youth. His face might have been considered handso once, but ti and neglect had dulled that—dark circles beneath his eyes and a patchy beard did not help.
His uniform was clean, at least. A long black coat lined with red, worn over darker layers beneath.
Out of place here.
"Oi," he called, stepping further inside, his gaze narrowing. "Aren't you supposed to be out training right now? Or did that just slip your mind again?"
The youth didn't answer that.
Instead, their small nose wrinkled slightly.
"You could use a shower," they said plainly. "Old man."
There was no malice in it. Just a plain observation.
"Don't change the subject, you lazy brat!" the man snapped, his voice rising—not quite anger, but close enough to it. Frustration, more than anything. Familiar frustration.
The youth exhaled through their nose, the sound unimpressed.
"The military is a waste of ti for ," they said, voice almost bored as the chair continued its slow rotation. "You know that already. I don't see why we keep having this conversation like sothing's going to change."
They shifted slightly, one leg bouncing faintly against the other.
"I'm already stronger than most of the instructors," they continued, as if listing simple facts. "Smarter too. That part's obvious. I'm , after all." A small pause followed. "So why would I waste ti pretending to learn things I already understand? There are better things I could be doing."
Their tone didn't rise.
"I've got better things to do, Eziel."
The youth seed to emphasize the na.
Eziel let out a long breath, his hand rising to pinch the bridge of his nose as if trying to steady himself.
"I think you already know that ain't the problem, Grimm," he said after a mont, his tone a tad quieter now but no less serious.
"Hm? Then what is?" Grimm asked, tilting his head just slightly, the motion small. Even with his eyes hidden behind that curtain of red hair, there was sothing oddly earnest in the way he said it—like he genuinely expected an answer worth hearing.
Eziel stared at him for a mont, his expression flattening before twisting into a tired one.
"Do you seriously have to ask that, you stupid brat?" he shot back, the insult landing out of habit more than hostility. There was no real bite to it—just exasperation that had clearly been built over ti. "You can't honestly tell
you don't know what the problem is here."
Grimm didn't flinch at the tone. If anything, he seed to consider the question more seriously.
"Well," he began, his voice almost thoughtful, "given how often you complain, I figured there might be multiple problems. I thought I'd narrow it down by asking."
Eziel's eye twitched slightly.
"That damn crazy teacher of yours is gonna co for my ass if you don't show up," he said, rubbing a hand over his face as if the re thought of it was exhausting. "And I'm not dealing with that again."
Grimm blinked slowly, then tilted his head the other way.
"How is that my problem?" he asked, almost innocently, as if the logic truly escaped him.
Eziel let out a long, heavy sigh.
"It is your problem, ya brat," he replied, his voice dropping into a less firm tone. "Because you're the one who's supposed to be there. Not . And sohow, every ti you decide to disappear, I'm the one who gets dragged into it."
His gaze shifted briefly around the room before snapping back to Grimm.
"And how the hell did you even get into my study again?" he added, narrowing his eyes. "I'm pretty sure I changed the password. Twice."
Grimm waved a hand lazily, dismissing the question as if it wasn't worth answering.
"You don't need to know, old man."
Eziel's eye twitched again, more visibly this ti.
"Damn brat, I ain't old!" he snapped, straightening up slightly as if the accusation itself had personally offended him. "Twenty-eight isn't even that old. I'm in the pri of my life, you know. There's nothing 'old' about that."
"They say denial cos with age," Grimm replied without missing a beat, his tone still perfectly flat. "Though your age isn't that interesting to begin with, so I didn't think it mattered."
He leaned forward slightly in the chair, resting his chin against his hand.
"I ca here because I wanted to see what your next project was," he continued, shifting the topic as though the previous one had already lost its value. "But this…" He gestured vaguely toward the tablet and surrounding displays. "Enhancing the brains of animals? It seems boring. Pointless, even."
Eziel scoffed, folding his arms across his chest, though there was a flicker of pride beneath the irritation.
"Hmph. Boring to a snot-nosed brat like you, maybe," he said, lifting his chin slightly. "But for soone with an advanced mind—soone who actually understands potential—there's a lot more to it than you're giving it credit for. There's depth here. Possibility."
Grimm said nothing.
The silence lingered for a mont, filled only by the sound of machinery and the flicker of holograms shifting in the background.
"Nah," Eziel added, the tension easing slightly as he shrugged one shoulder. "I just thought it'd be interesting to talk with animals."
Grimm humd once.
"I see," he said slowly. "That's a lot less complex than I expected."
"Not everything has to be complicated," Eziel shot back, though there was a hint of defensiveness there.
"Then why not try Astrothians?" Grimm asked, tilting his head again, as if the answer should have been obvious. "They're already capable of communication. It would get you faster results."
Eziel waved the suggestion off imdiately.
"That'd be too easy," he said. "No challenge in it or a point. Besides…" His expression soured slightly. "Those damn bastards are already trying to ss with what I'm doing."
Grimm's posture didn't change, but there was a slight shift in his tone.
"Right," he said. "They want to use Aves as spies."
"Yeah," Eziel muttered, clicking his tongue in annoyance. "Using my research for sothing like that. Twisting it into sothing so damn practical and boring. Tch. If you're going to go that far, you might as well do sothing interesting with it."
He shook his head.
"It'd be far more interesting to actually communicate with them," he continued. "To understand them. Not just use them as tools."
Grimm's lips curved ever so slightly, though it was not quite a smile.
"Communicate what?" he asked. "How far monkeys can throw their shit?"
Eziel imdiately snapped back.
"Language, ya brat," he said, irritation returning, though there was a small hint of amusent beneath it. "Actual language. And no, not just that—there's more to it. Who knows what you could learn if you actually bothered to listen."
He leaned forward slightly, his voice gaining a touch of conviction.
"A scholar's job isn't just to use things," he went on. "It's to explore them. To understand the depth of everything, even the stuff that seems insignificant at first glance."
Grimm gave a noncommittal hum.
"Uh-huh," he said, clearly unconvinced, though not entirely dismissive.
Eziel watched him for a mont before shaking his head.
"Eh, you'll get it when you're older," he said, waving it off. His gaze drifted upward slightly, settling on Grimm's long red hair. "And didn't I tell you to cut your hair? It's getting too damn long. You can barely see through it."
Grimm reached up, idly fiddling with a strand.
"There'd be no point," he said simply. "It always grows back quickly. Faster than it should, honestly. Cutting it would just be a temporary inconvenience."
Eziel snorted.
"People are gonna start mistaking you for a girl, brat," he said, clearly entertained by the thought.
Grimm didn't react imdiately.
"Keep talking," he said calmly. "Once I get older, I'll be more manly than you."
Eziel grinned at that.
"Or you'll end up keeping that face," he shot back. "Wouldn't be the worst thing, though. I hear the ladies dig pretty boys."
"Hilarious," Grimm replied flatly.
"Yeah, I'm a natural-born codian," Eziel said proudly, straightening up slightly before gesturing toward the door. "Now get going, brat. Seriously. Before that crazy teacher of yours decides to co looking for you here and makes it my problem again."
Grimm leaned back in the chair for a mont longer, as if considering whether to move at all.
"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, finally shifting his weight.
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