After Lijie ate her fill, Yekase set her back in the crib like laying a feather on still water, then tugged Ivaris out of the room like a kite.

The range hood hummed downstairs, a low tide pulling at the walls; sounded like the kid sister got off work, and Mom had started cooking.

Lu Yao stood in the corridor like a quiet ink stroke on rice paper, breath held like lantern flame.

…With more people at home, it felt like walking anywhere and NPCs would refresh out of thin air, a street market blooming at every turn.

“Aren’t you going to check on Lorameia?” Lu Yao asked, voice light as wind through bamboo.

“…”

“…Who?” Yekase blinked like a cat startled by a falling leaf.

“The person I brought back.”

“Who??” Her voice cracked like a twig.

They’d been back from space for days; someone was hidden at home she didn’t know about, like a secret room behind a paper screen.

“Oh, I kind of forgot to tell you,” Lu Yao said, eyes drifting like a loose kite.

“You forgot to tell me!” Yekase’s words skittered like beads on a tray.

She stared at Lu Yao in disbelief, then at Ivaris, like measuring thunderheads, and asked, “Why didn’t you tell me either?”

“Haha, I thought you knew,” Ivaris said, grin bright as spilled mercury.

“You thought I knew!” Yekase threw up her hands like a gull taking off.

She was done; really done, like tea steeped to bitterness.

Back when the Millennium Bug—may she rest in peace—got swallowed into R2D2’s belly, Lu Yao vanished in a flash like lightning behind clouds.

Later Yekase learned she’d slipped by accident into the narrow interstice between the real world and the Causal Horizon, like sliding into a page margin.

There she met Lalabel wandering like a lighthouse ghost, her silhouette a wick against fog.

The interstice had a footing in theoretical physics, like a sandbar mapped on an old chart; two limiting branes must exist outside 3D space.

They kept the higher-dimensional super-body broad, like hoops holding a barrel, trapping scale distortions in a thin layer like oil atop broth.

Lalabel had named Limbo the Differentially Closed Universe, a magiform of that brane-sandwich, like frost given a mythic mask.

Lu Yao told it all in crystal detail like beads on string, yet never mentioned Lorameia; Yekase suspected intent, a fox behind silk.

But she had no proof, only smoke without flame.

Head of the household, yet kept in the dark like a lantern with a painted shade.

Maybe she’d been too gentle with them, rain that watered but never thundered, so no sense of awe took root.

She jabbed a finger at Lu Yao, then at Ivaris, like a conductor scolding a wayward drum, and walked to the door across from Lu Yao’s room.

She pushed the door in with a breath, like parting a reed curtain.

…

A young girl lay on the bed like a flower pressed in a book.

Yekase’s Infinite Force Perception saw through at a glance like sunlight through thin ice—she was a robot, Flash Energy at her core.

Her sleep had a simple cause, dry as a riverbed in late summer—just low power, circuits parched and quiet.

Yekase moved to the bedside and lifted the blanket like lifting morning mist, checking Lorameia’s body inch by inch like a jeweler with a loupe.

The sailor suit and black bodysuit were close-fit armor, like scales on a river carp, but they yielded to a Flash Energy scalpel like silk to moonlight.

She drew a cut line along the side, top to bottom like unzipping starlight, splitting front and back like two book covers.

She slid aside the chest plate, and the inner wiring and capacitors lay exposed like a city of glowing rivers under glass.

“Structure’s intact, a charge will do… huh?” Her breath paused like a note caught between beats.

…It looked familiar, a deja vu like a shadow matching step for step.

That big loop routing at the periphery, like a comet’s track—she liked to use that pattern herself.

She pictured redesigning Lorameia from scratch, chalk on a blackboard like frost on a window—and the layout matched exactly like a mirror.

Circuit design has an optimal, sure, like the sharpest knife, yet you only feel the edge at max load; daily use smooths all hills.

Hence some mechanics turn artists, drawing exhibition-grade external lines, gear as streetwear, like veins tattooed in chrome.

Given that, this identical layout felt deliberate, like a signature forged in broad daylight.

Because if you chase peak output, you never go humanoid; in a robot’s work, legs and curves are extra cargo, like sails in a subway.

If the designer favored aesthetics over performance, why mimic another’s wiring habits like tracing a stranger’s handwriting?

Unless their habits were the same as Yekase’s, like two seeds from one pod.

Then you’d call it fate, a red thread in copper.

Curiosity bloomed in Yekase like fire in dry pine; she reattached the chest plate and poured in Flash Energy like tea into a cold cup.

Half an hour later, Lorameia’s hair of gold outside and blue within trembled like reeds in a breeze, and she opened her eyes like dawn.

They were clear as sky, pupils replaced by a pair of cross-star sigils, playful as a kite tail.

“…?” Her look wavered like sunlight in a basin.

“Hello?” Yekase spoke first, voice steady as a metronome. “You’re Lorameia, right? I’m Yekase, and this is my home, Sky Island.”

Lorameia’s pupils quaked like ripples across a still pond.

She gaped, tongue tied like a ribbon.

She sat up, slapping her cheeks and limbs in panic like checking luggage at a gate.

“This… I…”

“Before charging you, I took the liberty of checking your circuits,” Yekase said, words soft as felt. “If it’s okay, who designed you?”

She understood the nerves of waking among strangers, a deer in fern shade, but this had to be asked on the spot like striking while iron’s hot.

She met those bright starry eyes, and asked word by word, each like a bead dropped into a bowl:

“Is that person’s name… Liu Qizhou?”

…

…

“Y-yes, I’m a reconnaissance robot Professor Liu Qizhou made… on the Horizon,” Lorameia mumbled, head bowed like a willow.

She flexed a little, then hopped off the bed like a cat off a sill, following Yekase downstairs like a drop following rain.

Dinner was ready, steam rising like fog on a river; Liu RuoYuan, Jiang Bailu, and Lu Yao sat at the table like stones around a fire.

Ling Yi was helping with plates, hands swift as swallows, and they all seemed used to this life, like fish to a familiar pond.

Seeing Yekase bring someone down as if it were nothing, everyone looked over like sunflowers turning, waiting for an explanation.

“This one’s someone Ah-Lu picked up from the Horizon waystation,” Yekase said, voice dry as toast. “A robot my old man built—Lorameia.”

She nudged Lorameia forward like a rook on a board.

The mechanical girl stood with her head low, silent as a moth under a lampshade.

“A robot? I can’t tell by the face at all,” Ling Yi said, eyes bright as lake glass. “The expressions look real.”

“Must be bionic materials,” Lu Yao said beside her, tone flat as a ruler.

“The Doctor didn’t do anything excessive, did she?” Jiang Bailu took Lorameia’s hand, worry warm as a shawl. “Like stripping your armor and peeking inside?”

“No need to worry,” Ivaris said, lifting pigeon meat with chopsticks like plucking a string. “Don’t even need to guess—she’s definitely looked.”

“Don’t scare the girl!” XiaoLei came out of the kitchen like a gavel, and everyone ducked their heads at once like reeds in wind and started eating.

“I… I’ll excuse myself first!” Lorameia’s look was all bitten words, a shy cat’s back arched, and she fled the table, thump-thump-thump up the stairs.

Odd. Strange as a compass that spins.

A robot doesn’t need to eat, like the moon doesn’t need lantern oil, so let her be… though Yekase watched her and felt deja vu curl like smoke.

That panic didn’t seem to come from new place and new faces, not just fog and unfamiliar path; there was some other thorn.

And Yekase probably knew that reason, a note on the tongue she couldn’t sing.

…but right now it wouldn’t surface, like a fish under ice.

Maybe once she warmed up, she’d explain; some fruit ripens slow, like persimmons under frost, and haste only bruises.

It had taken over a year to bring Lu Yao into the fold; patience had become a winter coat.

Ivaris, though, seemed to care; she was chewing faster than usual, chopsticks drumming like rain.

…

Upstairs, in a corner, Lorameia locked the door with a click like a pebble in a well, and stood before the full-length mirror like a reed before water.

From any angle she was a cute girl, starry eyes blinking like night windows, tugging a little at anyone’s urge to protect, like a sparrow in palms.

Though a robot, her face and hands were as soft as human skin, petal-smooth, spring-warm.

With no one around, her shy, tight-drawn expression blew away like fog, replaced by the weary look of a middle-aged office drone crushed by errands.

“Tch, how did it end up like this…” She pinched her cheek, the softness springy as mochi, then grabbed her gold-and-blue hair like silk rope.

She tapped her forehead to the mirror like a bell, and sighed.

“…Sigh.” The sound fell like a leaf.

She watched her reflection, enlarged and warped like water through glass, then slid down slowly and sat cross-legged like a monk under eaves.

A cobalt-blue jellyfish drifted over like a lantern in tidewater and nuzzled her cheek, cool as night rain.

“Yekase betrayed logical inference,” a voice floated like a reed flute, “over-relying on Infinite Force Perception, so she didn’t recognize you; don’t be too sad.”

“?!” Lorameia whipped her head around like a startled deer and saw Ivaris leaning in the window, smiling like a crescent moon.

“Welcome home, Dad—how’s the girl body treating you?” Her tone danced like sun on ripples.

“Ivari, you—” Lorameia started, voice flicking like a match.

“Yup, it was me and Lalabel,” Ivaris said, flipping into the room like a cat over a sill.

She slid her hands into Lorameia’s armpits and hoisted her up like picking up a kitten, effortless as wind.

“Gu Xiangshi can use a documentary to make the fake idol ZEROS,” she said, grin bright as glass. “So we used an unrelated concept vessel to ferry your soul.”

“We had it slip through the waystation like a smuggler in fog, and sneak into the real world like dawn through shutters, surprisingly smooth.”

“…Then why this look?” Lorameia asked, words flat as a board.

“Maybe you lingered too long at the waystation,” Ivaris said, shrugging like a wave. “Concepts erode, you know; too many Magical Girls around.”

“…” Lorameia—Professor Liu Qizhou—fell silent, heavy as a stone in a sleeve.

“Just tell them who you are,” Ivaris said, gentle as quilted snow. “With Yekase as precedent, they’ll accept it fast, like sun on frost.”

“No way! Where would I put this old face?” she snapped, trying to thunder like a drum, yet it came out coy, like a cat swatting yarn.

As her emotions flared, a golden ahoge sprang up like a wheat sprout crowning her head, bright as mischief.

“And won’t it make Flash Energy look like some not-serious force that turns every man into a girl?” she hissed, blush hot as tea.

“Isn’t that kind of nice?” Ivaris teased, eyes like foxfire.

“Not nice at all!” Lorameia retorted, cheeks puffed like steamed buns.

“Don’t get worked up,” Ivaris soothed, voice like warm soup. “You’re a senior engineer of the Huaxia Academy, a lifelong People’s Hero; you’ve seen tempests.”

That didn’t sound comforting, like a pat with a brick.

Lorameia sighed and kicked twice like a lazy carp, but couldn’t wriggle free from Ivaris’s claws, so she went limp like noodles.

“…You’re right. It’s been too long,” she murmured, voice thin as paper. “I forgot I used to be—and still am—a person.”

Seeing her settle, Ivaris half-kneeled and drew her into an embrace like a blanket, warmth pooling like sunlight on tatami.

Human warmth she hadn’t felt in ages stilled her like snow in a bell jar, and the room breathed like a sleeping lake.

“Then I’ll say it again,” Ivaris whispered, words like plum blossoms in winter. “Welcome home, Dad—don’t you want Mom, Auntie, and Yekase to say it too?”

“…Let those rascals find out on their own,” Lorameia muttered, eyes averted like a shy moon.

“Okay~” Ivaris sang, smile floating like a paper boat.