"Skipping school for several days without reason—expulsion really is unavoidable."
In the school office, Lillian's homeroom teacher spoke to him as he handled the withdrawal procedures. "After you graduate, find a proper job. That way you'll be worthy of your deceased parents."
Lillian's expression changed slightly at those words. "What did you say?"
The teacher was taken aback. "What's with you? Did I say something wrong?"
"My parents don't need me to be 'worthy' of them."
"…What kind of attitude is that? Forget it—you're about to withdraw anyway, so I won't argue with you. Let me tell you this: even if you hadn't applied for withdrawal yourself, the school leadership couldn't tolerate a student like you skipping classes for days without explanation."
"Is that so?"
Lillian suddenly let out a cold laugh, though his gaze was icy. "I'm an orphan. National policy requires schools to reserve special admission slots for students like me—that's why I was able to study here, right?"
His homeroom teacher frowned. "What exactly are you trying to say?"
"Are you sure your so-called school leadership would dare to casually expel a student like me—an orphan? Should I go cry about it on social media? Or pretend to lose my mind and claim I've developed depression? If public opinion explodes with accusations like 'the school discriminates against special-status students and causes them psychological trauma,' could the school leadership bear that responsibility? Or could you, teacher? You know I'm an orphan… Are you really trying to make an enemy of a man with nothing to lose, no attachments, and perfectly sound health?"
"You… you…" The teacher's face changed drastically, clearly never expecting such words from Lillian.
Lillian put away his smile, glanced at the teacher—who no longer dared to say another word—then turned and left with his documents.
Yes, he had accepted Ria's proposal.
She had already arranged everything for him: a visa to go abroad, enrollment in a private high school on Rishima, dormitory accommodations, and language courses. Everything had been prepared. As for whether he would return in the future—most likely, he would not. Even if he did return to the country, he would never come back to this city.
This place was not his hometown, yet he had lived here far longer than he ever had in the place of his birth. And as for that hometown—he had no wish to return. There was no one there waiting for him, nor anyone he needed to wait for.
---
When he returned home, knowing he would leave the next day, he sat at his desk and gazed at the fading glow of the sunset outside the window. Then he opened the second drawer.
From inside, he took out a small box. Within it lay a pale blue hairpin. Back then, he had never managed to give it away. Now, there was no need to give it at all.
He raised his hand high, about to smash it down—
But suddenly, flickering lights appeared in Lillian's eyes.
The world twisted briefly, then returned to normal.
Fragments of memories from the future began to surface in his mind. He paused for several dozen seconds, and when he regained his senses, the very aura around him had changed.
He lowered his raised hand and gently toyed with the hairpin.
"These memories… even I was about to forget them."
"You're lying," a calm, intellectual voice spoke from nearby.
At some unknown moment, a white-haired girl in a black dress, her hair reaching her waist, had appeared seated at the edge of the bed, smiling faintly.
"If one could forget so easily, they would never appear here in the first place."
Lillian looked at her. "So… does this mean I've passed the trial?"
"Yes. If you hadn't passed, your sealed memories of the future would not have appeared—congratulations."
Echidna tilted her head and explained, "In your original memories, you would eventually smash that hairpin to pieces with one punch, correct? That was your 'knot.' Every challenger who fails loses control of their emotions when confronted with the 'knot' in their memories. But you didn't. In fact, you accepted it far too quickly."
"…Yes."
"May I guess why?"
"Go ahead," Lillian replied, turning to look at her. "But first I want to ask something. You saw that memory just now, didn't you? Do you have no thoughts about this 'technological world'?"
Indeed, compared with the otherworldly realm he now inhabited, Lillian's original world was fundamentally different—utterly revolutionary in nature. If Echidna showed no curiosity about the world itself, there could be only one explanation.
"Oh, I do have thoughts. But most of them were already expressed the first time I saw it."
The answer was clear—she had seen the modern world before.
"…I suppose asking where—or whose memories—you learned about it from would be pointless," Lillian said.
Echidna blinked. "Correct. May I continue my guess now?"
"As you wish."
"Hm…" She placed a finger against her lips and gazed out the window, speaking slowly and thoughtfully. "Your parents died in an accident when you were very young, and you had little contact with other relatives. That girl named Ria Shane lived in the same orphanage as you for a time… In the original ending, you were going to smash that hairpin. The answer is quite obvious."
"What do you mean?"
"You liked that girl—or more accurately, you depended on her."
"…"
"Even after all these years, you recognized her at a glance. What else could that be but dependence? After your parents died, you grew up in the orphanage. From then until you turned eighteen, she was the only person who ever treated you well, wasn't she? With no other lifeline to cling to, you grasped her and refused to let go."
Lillian remained silent.
"But—she had already forgotten you." Echidna's smile carried a trace of mockery. "She only remembered after looking up information afterward. You said it didn't matter, but inside, it must have tormented you terribly. Even knowing that 'forgetting is normal,' you couldn't control your feelings."
"'Unlike me, she was adopted by a wealthy family. Naturally she received an excellent education and met countless outstanding peers. Under such circumstances, forgetting a small playmate from the most painful period of her life is perfectly normal.' That's what you told yourself, wasn't it? Yet you couldn't deceive your own heart, so you tried to sever all ties with her by smashing the hairpin… Am I right?"
Lillian did not hide it. He nodded.
"Yes."
Echidna seemed slightly surprised by his frankness, but her curiosity only deepened. "Then I want to know even more—what happened afterward that made you… become so at peace with this matter?"
"You can't view my memories?"
"Strangely enough, I can only see your earlier memories. I saw you study on Rishima for a year, then return to your country, shutting yourself inside your rented room day after day, living in despondency. But then, one day, everything suddenly cut off. I can't see anything beyond that—there's a power I cannot reach that blocks me," Echidna said with a sigh. "It's quite frustrating. I truly wish to know what happened that day."
Hearing this, Lillian immediately understood. Echidna could only access the memories from before his transmigration. After that—once the power of a goddess became involved—it was beyond her reach.
"No wonder…" Lillian was silent for a moment before speaking. "You're right. After my parents left, she was the only person who ever treated me well. Others were either hypocritically kind or only wanted to satisfy their own sense of charity. That's why I was so… angry that she had forgotten me."
He looked at the hairpin in his hand.
"But now I feel nothing at all—only gratitude and relief. I'm grateful that I met her in my life. But we belong to different worlds, destined never to intersect. Now, I simply wish her happiness, because I no longer depend on her."
"If you could see my later memories, you would understand…"
Many figures appeared in Lillian's mind—Historia, Annie, Ymir, Yui, Kizmel, Elsa… He now had new bonds, new people who cared for him.
The Lillian who once stubbornly clung to a single lifeline had long since vanished. The present him had been reborn. He accepted his past self calmly, and so he had easily passed the first trial.
"You know," Lillian said, looking at Echidna as he lifted the small hairpin, "if you had used my later memories as the trial, I might have failed. Because… in those memories, there are things far harder for me to let go of—things I can never truly be at peace with."
"Is that so?"
Lillian did not want to think back on it anymore, yet that was indeed what he believed. If… the content of this trial truly involved events from the world of AOT, then he might truly—no, certainly—never be able to let it go.
"Hearing you say that only makes me more curious."
Echidna wore a dissatisfied expression, as though her curiosity remained utterly unsatisfied. But Lillian had no intention of saying anything further. Perhaps one day, that incident would become like this small hairpin—something he could face with a relieved smile. Yet for the foreseeable future, Lillian felt that would be impossible. This psychological burden was something he would continue—continue—to carry.