“Ah, are you really?”
“Huh?”
“—”
“—”
The air suddenly went quiet. Seeing Ice Rain’s dazed expression, Yvette shook her head and said, “Vers didn’t say anything—he probably doesn’t even know who you are. I lied to you.”
Ice Rain’s expression tightened at once. After quite a while, she muttered, “—You actually lied to .”
“You’ve been lying to for hundreds of years,” Yvette said coolly.
“That’s—fine.” Ice Rain had no retort. She let her head droop as if accepting her fate, staring dejectedly at the floor. “How did you figure it out?”
“I’d suspected before, but I trusted you wouldn’t lie, so I waited until now. Only after arriving on the Silvermirror Continent did I confirm it,” Yvette said.
It wasn’t a complicated deduction. In truth, with a little observation one could see that in any Golem Kingdom, highly anthropomorphic humanoid golems were extrely rare, and the vast majority were Sanctum clergy or God-graced. Sightings in daily life were rarer still.
Yet her encounter with Ice Rain had been riddled with coincidences. On the very second day after arriving on the Blacktide Continent, she just happened to et a golem girl as exquisitely crafted as Ice Rain; her bike just happened to break down, forcing her to ask Yvette for help; they just happened to travel together to a nearby Golem Kingdom for a recharge—statistically, what an off-the-charts coincidence.
Only, after spending so long with Ice Rain and growing thoroughly familiar with and trusting her, Yvette simply didn’t want to believe it was true. She proactively found Ice Rain an excuse: that she was from the Silvermirror Continent—the Machinefolk’s ho base and the Sanctum’s headquarters—surely far more advanced; it was normal for a new generation of Machinefolk to look more refined and high-end, and there would be more like her in the future…
But having co to the Silvermirror Continent herself and seen the streets of the Skyvault Kingdom still packed with antique golems—rust-scarred, patched with random parts—she finally knew Ice Rain was different. A golem that fine stood out just by standing on the street.
Besides that, her exchange with Vers offered crucial corroboration.
Through Vers, Yvette confird that the “Refused” reply to her prayer to the God of Machines was indeed from the God Himself.
That implied three layers of information.
First, the God of Machines knew who she was—hence no surprise when she ntioned “Heartcore” to Him.
Second, the God’s refusal could only an He did not want her discovered by Vers, the “King of Shadows.” Otherwise, given His partnership with the Goddess, He would have told Vers to co for her long ago; there’d be no need to wait for her to show up.
Third, Vers had been Holy Lord for seven hundred years and could access any Sanctum intel, yet knew nothing about her. That almost certainly ant soone had been quietly covering her tracks—and no one but the God of Machines could do that.
Taken together with that coincidence-laced eting five centuries ago, suspecting Ice Rain’s identity followed naturally.
She just hadn’t expected Ice Rain to be so easy to bluff—one poke and she confessed. It made Yvette feel that over these five hundred years, Ice Rain hadn’t been acting all the ti; she might well have been playing herself.
Soon, after listening to Yvette’s analysis, Ice Rain fell silent, head bowed for a long ti. After waiting a bit, Yvette, out of patience, rapped the tal door. “Aren’t you going to say sothing?”
“W-what do you want to say?” Ice Rain mumbled, like a puppy that had done wrong, not daring to et Yvette’s eyes.
“What exactly are you?”
“I—I am—” Ice Rain hemd and hawed forever, then, in a mosquito-soft voice, whispered, “I’m the God of Machines—”
“—” Yvette.
“But not the main body. I’m a sub-persona. I need to link with the main body to synchronize—so there’s a teensy bit of difference—”
“Is your main body as dumb as you?”
“Yes.” Ice Rain nodded, then suddenly realized, “Wait—are you insulting ?”
Yvette: “No.”
Ice Rain: “Oh—”
Yvette thought: No wonder the Machinefolk are all dopey—it’s a top-down habit, the big boss set the tone.
Then she asked, “Let confirm: you refused my prayer in the Sanctum because you didn’t want Vers to find out?”
“Mm.” Ice Rain nodded obediently.
Yvette pressed her lips together, feeling a bit better. At least aside from hiding her identity, Ice Rain hadn’t done anything wrong.
She thought of her original purpose in coming to the Silvermirror Continent—to find the God of Machines. Wasn’t that accomplished now? She asked at once, “So who is the Witch of the End—does she still live? What’s your relationship with her, and why did she assign Vers as Holy Lord to kill ?”
Firing the questions in one breath, Yvette saw Ice Rain look troubled. After a while she said, “I don’t know.”
“You don’t? Aren’t you the God of Machines?”
“I’m only a sub-persona. For those things, you have to ask my main body—”
“Fine.” Yvette sighed. “What about the rest? How was the world destroyed? How much do you know about the na Lianna Renee? And the aurora, the Dream Fog, the Secret Garden—how much do you know?”
Ice Rain looked at her, helpless, still unable to help.
With answer after answer a blank, Yvette was at a loss too. She frowned. “How do you not know anything?”
“Uu… I’m sorry—” Ice Rain lowered her head, not daring to look at her.
Seeing her cower, Yvette couldn’t bring herself to say more. She only sighed and asked, “If you go to the Sanctum now, can you sync this information with your main body?”
“The main body won’t agree.” Ice Rain shook her head slightly. “I don’t know why—but that’s how it is.”
“Where is your main body?”
“On the moon.”
“—Forget it,” Yvette said. She knew nothing of anti-gravity tech, and in space her casting environnt would be abysmal; no elent magic could easily carry her all the way to the moon.
She said, “Then what’s your reason for helping —your purpose in approaching ? You must at least know that.”
“That I know. At first I wanted to know who you were—later, I hoped we could be friends.” Ice Rain gave an answer that sounded absurd—and perfectly in character.
Yvette didn’t know what to say. After a mont’s silence, she asked, “So—do you know who I am now?”
Ice Rain looked at her hesitantly, as if to nod—then quickly shook her head.
At last, seeing Yvette’s brows knotted tight, she ventured, cautiously, “Then—Miss Good Samaritan, can we still—be friends now?”
As the silver moon shifted in the night sky, the moonlight slanting into the room also changed angle, illuminating a corner of the bed.
After a long, quiet pause, in the dim light Yvette gave a certain answer: “—We can.”
At first, she had found it hard to accept. But after talking it through and collecting herself, she had to admit that at least Ice Rain hadn’t hard her, and had hidden her from the “King of Shadows,” Vers, for at least five centuries—perhaps six or seven.
On that alone, it was enough to show that this Ice Rain sub-persona would not stab her in the back—and the true God of Machines likely bore her goodwill as well.
As for why the God of Machines protected her yet refused to tell her anything—such twisted behavior—Yvette suspected there must be more to it.
Reviews
All reviews (0)