Lobotomy E.G.O Faint Aroma & Solitude: Ryōshū's Story

It was an unremarkable sort of day - if one could call it that - when even the Agents of the Upper Layer had been mobilized to suppress and return Alriune to its containment unit.

With the Control Team left hollowed out, the child had been saddled with managing the Abnormalities assigned to the department.

P.M.P.C.

As soon as she stepped into the Old Lady's containment unit, the child sat reclining in a chair and crossed her legs, unfiltered complaints spilling out of her mouth.

All day long, she'd been tasked with doing Managerial Work on Alriune to extract its E.G.O gear...

... and she failed. That's three times already - seven, actually, by the manager's yardstick - that she'd allowed Alriune to escape under her watch today alone.

I don't see how that pink mongrel breaking containment is my fault.

It's that dimwit of a manager. Must've bled out every scrap of luck because he couldn't resist rubbernecking at the thing every now and then.

Alriune. That sorrowful child slips out of containment when the Work Result is "Bad"... and just as readily on a "Good."

It's never content to remain confined. It would much rather wander outside, suffusing the company's musty corridors with the fresh scent of the forest.

Haha... Things must look quite unfair, from where it stands.

And, of course, from where the manager stands too.

…….

Tsk. No flower-viewing today. Just stuck hearing the old hag droning on all day.

It's become pitch-black, this room. The curse must've seeped into the walls - been a while since I last did some work here.

Dearie, dearie... would you like to hear a story?

*puff* Whatever.

Tales crooned like lullabies, poems too abstract to grasp, ghost stories that make the hair on the back of the neck stand straight up.

From stories known to all... to the ones known to none.

The Old Lady knows every tale ever told - every single story in existence, every nursery rhyme written for children.

It goes without saying that her troves of tales also include the secret stories of the other Abnormalities.

Just a coincidence, perhaps. Or is it inevitability?

For the first time, the Old Lady brought up a tale of an Abnormality - an entity that the child knew all too well.

Oh, Alriune, the lovely one; a doll who yearned to be human.

...?

Know something about that rabid thing?

A flicker of surprise crosses the child's face as she voices her question, but the answer, in all likelihood, won't be hers to hear.

The Old Lady, you see, doesn't speak to you. She merely speaks, spinning her tales and making her loneliness known.

Its eyes were full of soul, and it was adored by people.

.......

But every genesis of the spring is to be followed by the passing of the autumn.

The Old Lady does no such thing as asking. She doesn't "respond," either. The words that come out of her mouth are not for conversation.

Which is why, for all the stories she tells, she can never manage to fill the void of her loneliness.

One day, the doll was abandoned in a dark forest.

Its eyes were stolen by crows lusting for glitter,

while its mind, life, and heart slowly withered away.

Part by part, its pretty porcelain body cracked and shattered. Where its eyes once were, only gaping holes were left.

And yet, the doll remained standing in the forest.

The cracks and openings on the porcelain were instead filled with a growing bouquet of flowers, and fresh petals fluttered down like tears from the empty holes of its eyes.

And then? What happened next?

Did it hunt down the crow that pecked its eyes out? Did it cut off its wings?

The child knew that no answer would be returned;

That she would still get to hear the next part of the story, whether or not she invited the Old Lady to continue.

Still, ask she did...

... as though she were used to such exchanges.

Alriune, lacking eyes but all-seeing; a human who yearned to be a doll.

Born of soil, and to soil shall it return.

The Old Lady directed her gaze at the child - a gaze as hollow as that of the Alriune from the story, a black void that seems to meet the child's own eyes.

It was almost as though she were interested in hearing what the child would make of the tale.

The child's eyebrows cinched together in a scowl. The tale might have found footing had she cared to listen with interest, but this was not for her. She really should have spared herself the trouble of hearing it out, she thought.

... L.O.N.E.

Your story's literally otiose, needless, empty.

But surely that was not the end of the story for the doll.

.......

Perhaps the story hit a bit too close to home, or maybe it reminded the child of a certain someone she only remembered in the foggy fragments of her memories...

Either way, a cloying loneliness clung to the child as she stepped out of the containment unit.

... And who the hell are you?

Oh! I'm Vera, from Information. You're that Agent who transferred to the Middle Layer from the Safety Team, right? Uh...

Ryōshū.

Right! Right, Ryōshū. I've heard quite a bit about you.

*puff* Hmph. What do you want?

I came down because Mister Yesod gave the order for support. There was no one in the Control Team... anyhow, thought I smelled something burning in the lobby, and...

Yup. I see that you, uh, Altered your E.G.O Gift into... a cigarette. Ah, not an issue, I guess, as long as it's not a fire...

The employee extended a hand for a handshake, but the child slapped it away like a high-five and moved toward the hallways....

... only to be stopped by the flustered employee blocking her path.

Uh, please... Just a moment. Please wait here until the Control Team arrives.

And why should I do that?

You missed the announcement, I take it. The Dusk of Amber will begin shortly.

And... during the Dusk of Amber, the effectiveness of RED - that is, physical attack - is doubled.

Doubled? That multiplier nonsense you people like to play with, hmm?

Correct. Ryōshū, your E.G.O weapons are both WHITE-type. I recommend either switching weapons or leave this to the other Agents...

You're N.S.F.P.

Pardon?

You're not seeing the full picture.

The child brushed past the employee and walked into the corridor with light steps.

Look closely, M.B.

If switching E.G.O gear is what allows double the efficiency, all I need to do is use both of my weapons at once instead.

Uh... What?

I'll show you the collaboration of F.A., S.

A gigantic worm burst into the hallway.

As the ordeal entity advanced slowly, yet not without momentum, the child raised her crossbow and took aim.

The employee, who frantically chased after the child, watched the bolt flying from the crossbow,

and in the same breath, the child's revolver fired six rounds at the ordeal at a speed too fast for the eye to track.

Hmm. Was that not enough?

Th-that's why I told you to either switch weapons or wait!

Look, it's not too late to go back and -

Well, more shots should do the trick, then.

One shot. Then two. Then a third.

Bolts and bullets rained down on the ordeals until they burst like squashed fruit,

and another bolt loosened at point-blank range punched straight through the largest of them - the Dusk itself.

*puff*

Not a dull end to wrap up a day.

W-wait... Why are you aiming that thing at me?!

The child, perhaps, had managed to reshape the loneliness that latched onto her into an artistry of her own,

because she no longer seemed lonely at all as she emptied her gun on the horrified employee.