It was only natural that I had assud I was the only Earthling in this world.
Even when I introduced inventions that should have shaken the very foundations of this society, no one reacted as if they recognized their significance. And despite my personal investigations, I had never encountered anyone who could be called an Earthling.
I had combed through not just contemporary records but historical records dating back over a hundred years. Yet, I found nothing.
But after hearing Mr. Clear’s words, I understood why.
"The first Adam appeared millions of years ago... around twenty thousand years after this world first started functioning."
"The second ca about twenty thousand years after that..."
"The last Adam? That was roughly a million years ago. The intervals keep getting longer."
The last Earthling before had appeared a million years ago.
Not a hundred. Not a thousand. A million.
At that distance, any traces would have long since vanished. Even if sothing had survived, it would be nothing more than relics, indecipherable remnants of the past.
In other words, as far as this world was concerned, those Earthlings had never existed.
"So that’s why... That’s why this world still had alphabets."
The scattered remnants of past Earthlings—that was likely one of them. Of all things, alphabets and Arabic nurals were the easiest to leave behind. Simple to teach. Simple for primitive minds to adopt.
And one more thing—
I realized that Earthlings appeared at intervals that followed the powers of two.
I was 2⁸.
That ant I was the Adam who appeared after 2.56 million years.
Why it followed this pattern, I had no idea.
As I took yet another step closer to uncovering the secrets of this world, Mr. Clear’s explanation ca to an end.
"Most of them died without accomplishing much. Honestly, you’re the most interesting one so far. How did soone like you manage to get this far...?"
"That’s obvious. The era is different."
Even if soone from Earth held the knowledge of their civilization and knew how to apply it, changing an entire world alone was impossibly difficult.
The biggest obstacle was the lack of infrastructure.
A modern person thrown into the dieval era, even with knowledge of how to build a smartphone, wouldn’t be able to accomplish much.
And this wasn’t even the Middle Ages or the Industrial Age.
These were prehistoric tis.
It might seem like primitive people would be easier to manipulate due to their ignorance, but that was a grave misconception.
The primitive humans of this world were far more ignorant than Earth’s early humans.
And far, far stronger.
It wasn’t a joke—there were beings here who could punch your head off in a single blow.
In a world without laws or systems of justice, what hope did a powerless Earthling have of persuading them?
"I was lucky. There was already a foundation for to climb."
If I had fallen into the dieval era, at best, I would have gone down in history for making great scientific and mathematical discoveries. But the impact would have been limited.
Even if I had fallen into the Industrial Revolution, the outco would have been the sa.
At best, I would have accelerated civilization’s progress. That was all.
But this era was different.
This era had just enough technological foundation to support my work.
"And, well... my biggest stroke of luck was eting the Boss."
Above all else—eting Regalia was the greatest fortune I had.
Even if I had knowledge of Earth’s technology, how was I supposed to protect it in this world?
If I had drawn attention too soon, I could have been kidnapped, locked in a basent, tortured until every last piece of knowledge was extracted from .
Hell, I could have just dropped dead in the streets.
But Regalia had accepted .
And every ti I introduced new technology, she shielded .
That was why I could never raise my head against her.
"eting her was the worst misfortune for , though."
"So—is that all? Is there nothing else?"
"Nothing else. I don’t know much, either. I just instinctively know that Adams are ant to change the world. How they do it, though? No idea."
Hearing his response, I silently nodded.
It made sense. Even with just average knowledge from Earth, changing this world wouldn’t have been too difficult.
It wasn’t just because I had a doctorate-level education. Even high school or middle school knowledge from Earth was enough to outclass the highest scholars of this world.
And complete knowledge had the power to accelerate an entire civilization overnight.
If the past Earthlings had been placed in a proper environnt, this world would have already reached the stars—perhaps even uncovered their origins.
"...But why are you asking about this?"
"Because I don’t know the answer."
"No, that’s not what I an... You already know, don’t you?"
Mr. Clear tilted his head.
That ridiculous assumption—that I must know everything.
I didn’t feel the need to correct him, but...
If I wanted to hear the truth, I needed his trust.
"I don’t know everything. I’m not a god."
"That’s not what I ant."
He locked eyes with .
"What I an is—why are you asking about sothing you’ve already experienced?"
"...What?"
"Are you pretending not to know? It took a while to rember, but—"
He let out a chuckle.
"The last Adam I saw? He had your exact face."
My body froze.
"...What?"
"Yeah. Sa face, sa voice—sa arrogant attitude."
Mr. Clear let out a quiet laugh as he looked at .
"You were one of us, after all, huh?"
That final sentence drove a stake through my mind.
I stumbled out of the basent.
My head spun.
I couldn’t process it.
I couldn’t calm down.
***
"Haa, haa..."
Back in his laboratory, Eight clutched his chest, feeling his heart pounding as if it were about to burst. He grabbed the bottles of dication scattered across his table and swallowed them down in a desperate attempt to calm himself.
A sedative. A simple, well-known redy to steady the nerves.
But no matter how much he forced down his throat, it was useless. His heartbeat refused to slow.
Instead, the bitter taste of the pills triggered a wave of nausea.
Stumbling into the bathroom, Eight clutched the sink and retched violently.
I was... created?
Of course, there was no guarantee that it was true.
Mr. Clear could have been lying just to ss with him.
But still... but still—
Eight didn’t have the courage to find out the truth.
Verifying it would be easy.
All he had to do was return and crack open Mr. Clear’s brain.
There would be so loss of mory, sure, but he could at least confirm whether the man had been telling the truth.
There was an even easier way.
He could analyze every atom in this world and reconstruct its history.
Or—
"......."
He could dissect his own brain.
The thought crossed his mind as he stared at his reflection in the mirror.
Yeah. Why hadn’t I questioned it before?
Even in a world where technology could be directly implanted into the brain, his knowledge was abnormal.
He knew far too much.
Even knowledge that wasn’t necessary lurked in his mind.
For an ordinary graduate student, it was too much.
...Shit.
A shudder crawled down his spine.
A cold sweat drained the heat from his body, sending an unnatural chill through his limbs.
Slowly, Eight pressed his hand against the mirror, staring at his own face.
The thought that it might not be his own filled him with an overwhelming sense of disgust.
But—
He knew.
He knew this was temporary. A product of heightened emotions.
He had to remain rational.
"Hoo... Hoo..."
He steadied his breathing, forcing himself to regain composure.
First, he had to confirm whether Mr. Clear was telling the truth.
Whether he was truly a manufactured existence.
Ultimately, it changed nothing.
Even if his entire being—his mories, his body—was fabricated, he was still Eight.
He was still a graduate student.
He was still an Earthling.
The only difference was that his entire existence would turn out to be a lie.
His mories.
His life—
Would all be rendered aningless.
"...I need a computer."
And not just any computer.
He needed one big enough.
His own AI wasn’t enough to uncover events from millions of years ago.
He needed sothing on the level of Earth's finest.
A warship-grade supercomputer.
And, as luck would have it—
He already had one in his grasp.
Eight slowly tilted his head back, gazing at the ceiling.
Above him—drifting in planetary orbit—
Was the New Washington.
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