"Ah... if you refuse, then—die~" His voice curled like sugar around a hidden blade.

Alicia didn’t answer; a sheet of frost fell between them, her gaze a cold moon over still water.

Irritation rose first, dry as sand in her chest; then the thought came: this so-called “genius scientist” was a pampered heir, a boy raised on orders and soft cushions.

Give a brat power too early, sprinkle a little outside stimulus, and you get chuunibyou—shouting “X-lalala energy!” and “I won’t be human anymore!” like fireworks with damp fuses.

She’d seen this breed enough in the Empire, weeds by the roadside; she didn’t travel to pluck the same weeds again, not when her heart felt as tired as dusk.

Honestly, even if he cried, “I’m doing this for the revolution!” she wouldn’t blink, like a stone in rain.

He saw her silence and mistook it for a wavering leaf; he rushed in with wind at his back.

“Listen, if you cooperate with my research, I’ll make tools that boost strength and heal instantly. You’ll be a hero, a torch in night!”

“I plan to change the Elvenfolk’s feudal ignorance with technology, like lightning splitting old clouds.”

“I’m only short a few test subjects. That ram-headed thing behind you? I made it from those Beastfolk before.”

“Then the Elvenfolk will accept the greatness of science! Don’t hesitate. Join me. I’m doing this for revolution!”

“...”

Resignation cooled first, like shade after noon; then the thought: Ah, he really said it. When did my tolerance grow this thick bark?

For the first time, Alicia wondered if following Ling too long had dulled her surprise, like a blade wrapped in silk—a change that wasn’t good.

“Why haven’t you decided? This is your moment to be a hero! One nod, and you save the whole Elvenfolk, like lifting dawn with a fingertip!”

Touch his favorite topic and the “wisdom” drained from his eyes; in its place burned fanboy frenzy, a grass fire swallowing sense.

“Ah... I’m that crucial, huh? If I refuse, the Elvenfolk perish, and I become a sinner through the ages, guilt piling like snow every day...”

Alicia was, as ever, Alicia; without training, her acting bloomed like theater masks—guilt on her face so vivid even this great scientist bought it.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s it—so say yes!”

“Mhm, right. Then Ling and I will live in daily pain under the sun, sprawled on beach chairs as sunlight whips our sins.”

“A radio will buzz in our ears; that buzzing will be justice’s lash on our backs.”

“The lemonade we drink will be sour, and it’ll be our wickedness that soured the lemons.”

“Right, right—huh?!”

“I fear we’ll suffer an unprecedented curse: we’ll never see a sun at night, never inhale through the nose while exhaling through the mouth at once, never find penguins in the Arctic, right?”

“...Is messing with me fun?”

The more she spoke, the more seams showed; his dulled mind still sparked enough to find the threads, like a moth twitching toward a candle.

“Heh~ I’m messing with a [bleep] like you. ‘Revolution’ this, ‘revolution’ that—do you even grasp the word, or just wave it like a flag in fog?”

“Say you win—then what? Institutions? Governance? The bones and sinew of a nation—have you thought beyond the echo of your own mouth?”

“Hah. You’re a keyboard warrior, thunder on glass; aside from your tongue, what weapons do you own?”

“You... you... you shameless old thief! How dare you whimper and bark at me!”

He sputtered like a kettle knocked from the stove; Alicia sighed again, a breeze over dead leaves—his tantrum proved her arrow had hit.

“Foolish, foolish. The brain-nerf hit early. I thought that light in your eyes was real wisdom—turns out it was candle-gloss on puddles.”

“...So you really mean to refuse?”

She looked into his eyes; the “wisdom” returned like lacquer over hollow wood—surface shine, empty grain beneath.

“Ah... of course. I’m not interested in being a lab rat, and I’m not playing house with a child~”

Her refusal dropped into the room like a pebble in a well; even the ram-headed monster froze, against nature, like a statue holding its breath.

“Then let me introduce myself. I’m Aite Roland. Call me Aite. And then... hello...”

He lifted his right hand; a black cube sat in his palm like a night-stone, a button on its face, his thumb hovering like a hawk above prey.

Now—the thumb pressed down, a soft click like a trap closing.

“And finally... goodbye!”

ROAR!!! The ram-headed beast bellowed again, pain braided into the cry like thorns in a vine.

Those Beastfolk had been stolen from a slavers’ guild by the Elvenfolk, under the Dragonfolk’s cover when they invaded the Empire, like shadows slipping through stormlight.