Date: 6/18/2001 - 4:15 PM {1 Year After Birth}
Location: The Nursery – Living Quarters
Perspective: Kaiser Everhart (Biological Age: 1)
The transition was jarring.
One moment, I was a ten-year-old avatar with working synapses and limbs that obeyed the laws of physics. The next, the white light faded, and I was shoved back into the meat-cage of infancy.
My eyes snapped open. The clarity of the White Room was gone, replaced by the blurry, low-contrast vision of a one-year-old in a dimly lit room. My brain felt like it had been wrapped in cotton wool.
I blinked, waiting for the massive silhouette of Cartethyia to loom over me. Usually, she was a permanent fixture, a statue of vigilance in the corner.
The room was empty.
Unexpectedly.
I pushed myself up. My arms wobbled like gelatin. A moment ago, I was analyzing the sociopolitical collapse of the Demon Realm. Now, I was fighting a losing battle against a duvet cover.
Pathetic.
I tried to crawl toward the edge of the bed. My left knee synced, but my right hand missed the memo. I tipped forward, face-planting into the mattress with a muffled thud.
How am I so bad?
I groaned, rolling onto my back. The ceiling stared down at me.
Where was she?
My mind, heavy as it was, began to run the simulations.
Option A: Summoned for a status report. The "Self-Study" phase had officially begun. The Foundation likely required a formal confirmation from all caretakers regarding the transition to Year 2.
Option B: Witness Testimony. Directive Vance had seen my reading list. Perhaps Cartethyia was being grilled on why her charge was keeping me up late.
Option C: New Orders. The Foundation did not leave infants unattended unless the protocol had shifted.
I sat up again, breathing hard. Even the act of thinking felt exhausting in this body. My neural pathways were firing, but the hardware couldn't keep up with the software. I felt a yawn crack my jaw, wide and uncontrollable.
I need to rest. But first...
My eyes drifted to the small wooden desk pressed against the side of my crib-like bed. It was usually bare.
Now, a piece of parchment sat there.
I narrowed my eyes.
I needed to see it.
I grabbed the bars of the crib and pulled. My legs kicked uselessly for a second before finding traction. I hauled myself up, feeling like a mountaineer scaling a vertical cliff face, only to have my foot slip on the smooth wood.
I collapsed backward, landing on my diaper-clad rear.
"Urgh," I grumbled.
I am the Aporetic False Genius.
And I have been defeated by gravity.
I looked around for a tool.
My eyes landed on the pillow. It was large, firm, and currently uselessly supporting my head.
Improvise. Adapt. Overcome.
I grabbed the corner of the pillow and began to shove it toward the desk. It was heavier than it looked. I grunted, pushing with both hands, my feet sliding on the sheets. It was like trying to push a boulder uphill.
I gave it one final, mighty shove. The pillow slid into position against the bars.
Success.
I crawled onto the pillow. It was unstable. I wobbled, my arms flailing like a windsock in a hurricane, before I managed to grab the railing of the bed again.
Steady. Engage core muscles... Do I even have core muscles yet?
I pulled. My chin cleared the railing.
There it was.
The desk was just within reach. The parchment was folded neatly. Even in the dim light, I recognized the wax seal. It wasn't the Foundation's standard geometric stamp.
I stretched my arm through the bars, my small fingers straining. I was a millimeter away. I gritted my gums, focusing every ounce of my will into extending my reach.
Just... a little... more.
My fingertip brushed the paper. I hooked it, dragging it slowly toward the edge until it fluttered through the bars and landed on the pillow beside my feet.
I dropped down, panting as if I had just run a marathon.
I picked up the letter. It was heavy, textured paper.
I opened it.
The handwriting was not handwritten. It was printed, mechanically perfect, the ink black and smelling of chemicals.
I focused my eyes. The words swam for a moment before snapping into focus, the sharp, biting language of the Foundation cutting through my infantile haze.
OFFICIAL NOTICE OF PROJECTED TERMINATION
From: The Office of Directive Vance
To: Caretaker Unit: Cartethyia
Subject: Asset Liquidation & Personnel Reassignment
Evaluation of Designation 000981: Following the initial twelve-month observation period and the preliminary neural scans conducted during the avatar synchronization, the Department of Talent Assessment has concluded its audit.
The Subject is Defective.
Designation 000981 possesses no dormant bloodline abilities. Mana Sensitivity: Null.
Physical Enhancement Potential: Grade F.
Intellectual Latency: Below Standard Deviation.
Projected Exam Score: 12/100.
The child is a statistical error. He is a caloric sink, consuming resources that should be allocated to viable candidates. He is a worthless addition to the Decayed Foundation's future.
There is no value in his survival.
To Caretaker Cartethyia: We acknowledge your impeccable service record. It is the consensus of the Board that your talents are being wasted on a broken vessel. You were assigned a dud, an unlucky child outside of your control. To execute you for his inevitable failure would be an inefficient use of a high-value caretaker.
The Offer: Report to the Administration Wing immediately. We offer you a transfer. We have a new intake arriving from the Northern Sectors. Among them is a dormant Pyromancer of High Noble lineage. He requires a handler.
Abandon Designation 000981.
Let him face the examination alone. When he fails, the disposal unit will handle the cleanup. You are absolved of his incompetence.
Status:Pending Acceptance.
Signed, Directive Vance
At the bottom of the page, right next to the "Acceptance" line, was a small, smudged ink print.
Cartethyia's thumbprint.
It was wet. Fresh.
The air left my lungs.
I stared at the print.
It was a signature receipt.
Or perhaps... a signature of agreement.
She read this.She read that I am worthless.She read that I am going to die.
And then she left the room.
My chest tightened. It wasn't a physical pain; it was a cold, hollow sensation that started in my stomach and spread to my fingertips.
I looked at the brutal numbers.
12/100.
Grade F.
Defective.
They are right.
I wasn't the Golden Child. I was just... Kaiser.
A consciousness trapped in a body that tripped over pillows. A mind that understood the tragedy of war but couldn't conjure a spark of magic to save his own life.
It is logical.
If I were her, I would leave too. Why die for a mistake? Why tie your existence to a defect that is born to fail?
I heard footsteps in the hallway outside. Heavy. Rhythmic.
Panic spiked in my chest. If she—or anyone—saw me with this letter, they would know I could read. They would know I was aware. And if she was coming back to pack her things, I didn't want her to see me holding the evidence of her betrayal.
I didn't want to see the pity in her eyes.
I scrambled.
I shoved the letter back through the bars. It caught on the wood. "C'mon," I whispered, a desperate, broken sound. "Fit."
I poked it with my small finger, sliding it until it sat precariously on the edge of the desk, just as it had been. I grabbed the pillow, dragging it back away from the bars, kicking it toward the head of the bed.
I threw myself down onto the mattress, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. I sat up, pulling my knees to my chest, wrapping my tiny arms around them.
The door handle turned.
I didn't look up. I stared at my hands. They were small, soft, and useless.
I'm not special.
She's gone.
Staring at the empty space where she used to stand.
She's gone to raise someone worthy.
The door clicked open.
I heard the intake of a deep, weary breath before Cartethyia stepped inside. It was a sigh of exhaustion.
She didn't see me immediately. She dropped a small, worn satchel onto the floor, the leather muffled on the rug. Her shoulders slumped—a picture of heavy burden.
Then, she saw me. I was sitting rigidly in the center of the bed, hugging my knees, staring into the middle distance.
The fatigue vanished.
Her dark eyes softened, melting into the fierce, protective maternal passion that was her core. A relieved smile broke across her face.
"Oh, my Prince!" she murmured, her voice instantly dropping to the gentle, soothing tone reserved only for me. She moved quickly, crossing the room in two strides.
She swept me into her arms, pulling me against her chest.
"How long has my little man been awake for?" she cooed, peppering the side of my head with light kisses.
I fought the sluggishness of my infant tongue. "A–a b-bit," I stuttered, the lack of control frustrating.
She laughed, a breathy, relieved sound. "Hehe. Already demanding I tell you stories, are we?".
She pulled back just enough to look at my face, resting her chin on the crown of my head. "I am so sorry, my little heart. Mama had to go out. Something quite important."
Yes. Something important.
The transfer agreement.
Your imminent departure to raise a viable heir.
She didn't wait for a response. She was already moving, walking toward the center of the room. "I hate that I was called away," she complained, her voice light and annoyed.
She did a tiny, awkward spin, pulling me closer. "I just want to hold you foreverrr!"
She carried me to a deep, padded chair in the corner and sat down, settling me into her lap. I was safe, cocooned between her thighs and chest.
She began running her fingers through my fine, dark hair, gently massaging my scalp. It was a relentless comfort.
"It was so dreadfully boring," she confided. "Just long speeches about 'resource allocation' and 'new generation.' Utterly dry. You know, I was sitting there, listening to the words, and all I could think about was you. I wondered if you were sleeping well, or if you were having strange little dreams."
She stroked my cheek with her thumb. "The sun is trying to come up, Kaiser. Did you know the guards hate when the sun comes up? Everything here has to be hard, harsh, and loud."
"But when you are with me, my little one, everything is soft. I get to forget the cold for a minute."
She paused, her expression momentarily distant.. "I wish they would just let us be. Just let us live out there on the edges, quietly. We don't need their grand plans or their terrible magic."
"We just need to be Kaiser and Cartethyia. Nothing else.".
I rested my head against her safety. Her words, her touch, her scent—it was the only place in the world where logic did not apply. It was the unconditional love the letter had called an inefficient allocation of resources.
She is leaving.She signed the paper.
She won't be back after the exam.
A deep, unfamiliar pressure settled in my infant heart.
It was guilt, the only emotion that registered as priority failure in my internal logic. She had risked execution to save me. She had taken a blow for me time and time again. Now, she was risking her life again by wasting her time on a "defective" product.
I have six days.
She deserved better than a quick, dismissive abandonment. She deserved the gratitude she would never seek.
I must find a way to thank her. Not with words she wouldn't understand, but with something she valued—a flicker of the humanity she desperately tried to cultivate.
Cartethyia abruptly lifted me off her lap, holding me up to her face. Our noses nearly touched. She pursed her lips into a comical, exaggerated pout.
"Hmmmm?" she hummed, her eyes wide and playful.
"Did Mama make you mad? Why are you being so quiet? Are you analyzing my behavior again, little genius?". She tapped my nose lightly.
"I missed hearing your little voice. Even your tiny sighs are musical to me. Come on, Prince, tell Mama what silly thing you dreamed about today. I bet you were bossing around me, weren't you? Hahaha— come on. Say something!"
"I want to hear your voice."
Cartethyia's face was still close, her expression a concentrated blend of exaggerated concern and playful pouting. "Tell Mama what's wrong," she insisted, her voice soft and tender.
"Did the dreams take all your words away, little silent Kaiser?"
Before I could formulate a single, coherent thought, she attacked.
She brought her face closer and kissed me hard on the forehead, the sound a loud…
Mwah!
She followed it up with a quick, soft stroke down my cheek, then gently squeezed my cheeks until my mouth formed a perfect, ridiculous "O."
"Look at that little fishy face! You're getting so chubby!" she cooed, clearly finding my distressed appearance highly amusing. She nuzzled her nose against mine.
"You're all business, aren't you? A little tiny Demon Lord of the foundation! So serious!"
I struggled to speak. I had to convey something.
"C-Ca," I managed to stutter out, the syllable sticky and thick.
"No, Mama!" She grinned, lifting me slightly and pressing me against her, giving me a soft, trembling embrace.
"I am Mama! The best Mama! The only Mama you'll ever need!" She then switched tactics, suddenly burying her face in the crook of my neck, letting loose a volley of soft, fast kisses right under my chin.
"Tickle-tickle-tickle!" she whispered, her raven-black hair smelling sweet and brushing against my cheek.
I gasped, my breath catching. My body reacted instantly, involuntarily arching back in a silent, squirming laugh that was purely biological.
This affectionate torture was designed to elicit a tiny reaction.
"N-no! S-stop!" I choked out, the words fragmented by my struggling exhale.
She pulled back, her black eyes sparkling with sheer delight. "Aha! You have words! And they are my words! I win!" She kissed the tip of my nose.
"You are just a tiny, sweet little cutie, no matter how much you try to pretend you are mature!"
She carried me over to the bed, setting me down on the mattress.
The objective is separation.
Pushing the pillow aside and scrambling to gain purchase on the sheets. I must escape the immediate perimeter for my own safety.
"Alright, Prince," she said, pulling her hands away with a theatrical flourish. "You are free! Go! Run! Conquer the continent of your mattress!"
I was halfway through the process of rolling onto my stomach when I felt a gentle, unyielding tug.
She had grabbed my ankle.
"Gotcha!" she declared triumphantly. She pulled my leg gently, dragging my small body effortlessly back toward her. My head bumped against the soft sheets.
I am a victim of superior strength.My current biological state lacks both traction and mass. My escape plan has been foiled by the gravitational constant of my own little ankle.
I was finished.
The tactical advantage of a ten-year-old avatar was erased by the overwhelming, affectionate power of love.
She pulled me close again, wrapping me in a loose, protective hold. Her body shook with silent laughter—a sweet, low giggle that was the most genuine sound in the entire Foundation.
"You are so silly, Kaiser," she whispered. She lifted me, settling my head onto her shoulder. My face was pressed against her collarbone.
She gently patted my back with a steady rhythm.
"You can never defeat me, my Prince," she murmured, her voice laced with affection and finality. "I know all your moves."
My cheek was pressed against her soft clothes.
I had been defeated by love. But the defeat had given me clarity.
I will not fight her love.
I will use it.
I took a deep, shaky breath, the residual emotion settling. I realized her weakness was her Deep Empathy and her inability to hide her feelings.
My survival motive was no longer a vague instinct; it was a precise calculation.
I moved my head slightly, tilting my jaw to speak against her shoulder.
"O-o I c-can," I stated, the conviction in the simple words cutting through the stuttering delivery.
I shifted my weight, my small hands gripping the fabric of her dress near her collarbone.
"Hmm?" She hummed, feeling the movement. She pulled back slightly, her black eyes wide and inquiring. "What is it, sweetling? Do you want to go down?"
I shook my head—a jerky, uncoordinated motion. I reached out, my fingers tangling in a lock of her raven hair, and pulled gently.
She blinked, confused, but lowered her head, leaning her cheek toward me.
"Yes?"
I closed the distance. I pressed my lips against the soft skin of her cheek. It was a clumsy, wet, infantile kiss, but it was deliberate.
Cartethya froze.
For a full second, she was a statue. Then, the reaction was chemical. A flush of bright crimson shot up from her neck, consuming her face. She pulled back, staring at me.
"K-Kaiser?" she squeaked, her voice cracking. Her hands hovered around me, unsure where to settle. She looked completely flustered, a "blushing mess" of pure, chaotic emotion.
"Did... did you just... oh my god. Why did...?"
She was stuttering. The confident protector was gone, replaced by a woman overwhelmed by a milligram of affection.
I am not done yet.
I took a breath, forcing air through my undeveloped vocal cords. I needed the words to land.
"P-Pwetty," I stammered, the 'r' rolling into a soft 'w'.
Cartethya's mouth fell open. "W-what?"
"B-beauty," I pushed out, my brow furrowing with the effort. I looked her dead in the eye. "C–Cu... Cutie."
The effect was instantaneous.
"OH!"
The sound was half-gasp, half-shriek. Her smile exploded, stretching so wide it looked painful. The blush deepened to a dark rose.
"You... you think Mama is pretty?!" she cried out.
She didn't wait for an answer. She lifted me high into the air, her strength fueled by sheer joy. She began to jump up and down, her feet thumping rhythmically against the rug, spinning in a tight circle.
"My smart boy! My genius! My sweet, sweet prince!" she sang, her voice vibrating with happiness. "You are too smart! You know exactly what to say to melt my heart!"
She pulled me down, crushing me to her chest again, rocking me back and forth.
"I love you," she whispered, the words fierce and thick with emotion. "I love you, Kaiser. I love you more than the world, more than anything.".
I rested against her, feeling the rapid staccato of her heart.
I looked up at her face. Her eyes were crinkled shut, her smile genuine and radiant.
Her smile is pretty.
It makes the cold feel distant.
She shouldn't waste it on a defect like me.
The thought was intrusive, sharp. I was a broken vessel. I was a "defect" scheduled for abandonment. But looking at that smile, I felt a strange, illogical resolve.
I want to fulfill that small wish of hers.
She wished she could use water magic—something fluid and free, unlike the stagnant darkness of the Foundation.
Maybe that way, she will be happier once she leaves me.
It was okay that she was abandoning me. It was logical. I had no redeeming qualities, no mana, no future. So, at best, I would do my duty.
I would ensure she was happy until the very moment she walked out that door.
Cartethya stopped jumping, breathless. She planted a massive, resounding kiss on my cheek—MWA!
"You called Mama pretty," she giggled, bringing our foreheads together. "I am sooo happy! My cheeks are hurting, oh my godddd!" She rubbed her face against mine.
I looked closely. There was a genuine redness there.
Physical pain induced by excessive joy.
—-———-———-———-———-———-———-————————————
Date: 6/18/2001 - 9:30 PM
The hours had passed in a blur of soft words and warm food. She had fed me the nutrient paste, making airplane noises to get me to open my mouth, treating me with a tenderness that belied the cruel letter hidden on the desk.
Now, the lights were dimmed to the low-power night cycle.
I was lying on her chest. Her arms wrapped around me like a cage.
She may abandon me.
The letter was signed. The transfer was pending.
But I won't let her leave empty-handed.
My eyes felt heavy. The pull of the Dream Land was returning.
Day 2 was approaching.
I will ensure that pretty smile stays on her face.
Till the moment she leaves me forever.
I closed my eyes, letting the darkness take me.
I drifted off to sleep.