Chapter 06: Who is Who?
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"Prospera Mercury," she says, reaching out and shaking my hand gently. Her grip is cold—like, really cold. Probably that cybernetic arm of hers. I can't help but notice the chill creeping up my skin.
It's a pleasure to finally meet you," she says, that plastic smile glued in place.
Ugh. That smile — sweet on the surface, rotten underneath, like whipped cream on a rotten cupcake. I have to clamp down on the urge to gag. But no. I can't be rude. She's Suletta's mother. If I'm rude, it'll only make Suletta sad. Just… endure it. For her smile.
"I've heard you've taken care of my daughter," her voice cuts right through my internal crisis. I'm not sure if she's just oblivious to the fact that I look like I just swallowed spoiled milk, or if she simply doesn't care.
"Yeah, but your daughter's taken care of me too," I answer, trying to sound cheerful—because honestly, I don't want to start a war on day one.
"I am sure she can be quite a handful," Prospera says.
Sometime during my internal meltdown, we've shifted from standing in the open to sitting at a small, quiet table off to the side. We're face-to-face now, which just makes it harder to ignore her mask and that horrible, fake smile.
(A handful? Suletta? She's the least "handful" person I've ever met. Maybe she means when she gets nervous?)
"No, no, not at all," I say, shaking my head. "She's great, honestly. I have fun just talking to her."
"How was it? Talking with her, I mean."
Her voice is still calm, but I can feel her gaze drilling into me from behind that mask. It's... weirdly intense. Why is she staring at me like that? It's kind of unnerving. She loves her daughter dearly. No doubt about that.
I can't help but soften a little at the thought. I picture Suletta's face when she's flustered and happy, that full-on, honest-to-god beam of sunshine that's so rare in this school.
"She was... very cheerful," I reply, the image of that bright, genuine smile flashing in my head.
"That sounds very like her," Prospera says.
And just like that, her whole expression changes. The fake, plastic, corporate smile just... melts away. The one she gives me now is smaller, softer, and completely, one-hundred-percent real.
"The three of us even watched cat videos together," I say, letting out a small laugh. I still remember that night — Suletta, Miorine, and I huddled around my tablet, laughing at a fat orange cat getting stuck in a cardboard box. It was supposed to cheer her up after… the whole Elan situation. It worked, for a little while.
"The three of you?" Prospera's tone carries a trace of amusement. "I'm glad to hear you're all getting along fine." She exhales softly, as if she's genuinely relieved.
"We are getting along very well!" I puff out my chest just a little, smiling without thinking. They're my best friends here. Things might change later, sure… but right now, I'm proud to call them that.
Prospera tilts her head. "You seem to care about her deeply," she says, her voice smooth, carefully neutral — like she's testing me.
"Of course," I answer, maybe a bit too quickly. "She's been through a lot. You can't just… replace someone like her."
Her visor shifts slightly, the light catching the mask in a way that almost feels like a smirk. "Replace? Oh no," she replies, tone dripping with something I can't quite read. "I made sure she would never need replacing."
What the hell does that mean? My brain does a full stop, and I'm left staring for half a second before I recover. I force a polite smile, nodding like I totally understand the crazy space-mom logic going on here.
"Right, right. Eternal bond, huh?" I say, leaning back in my chair with an awkward laugh. "I respect that."
"You should," she replies smoothly. "I've sacrificed everything for her. My body, my soul… even my sanity."
Okay, wow. That escalated quickly. I blink, trying not to show it on my face.
"That's… dedication," I manage, scratching the back of my neck. "That's… wow. I'd probably draw the line at losing a limb, but that's just me."
Prospera leans forward just a little, her mask catching the pale hangar lights. "You know," she says quietly, "my daughter means everything to me."
I nod, still pretending I totally get it. "Yeah, I can tell. She's… quite something."
"She's special," she continues, her voice low and soft — almost reverent. "I've shaped her with care."
Shaped her? What the hell does that even mean? Like… training? Parenting? Oh, maybe she's talking about Suletta's piloting. Yeah. That's it. Totally normal mom talk. Nothing to see here.
"I've noticed. She responds beautifully to guidance. Almost too well, actually," I say, crossing my arms casually. "Parenting's never easy, but hey — looks like you did fine."
Prospera hums, a faint sound that sends a chill crawling down my spine. "You talk," she says slowly, "as though you know what it feels like to raise a daughter."
"Well, maybe I do," I shoot back without thinking. The words leave my mouth before my brain can stop them.
That makes her pause. Just a flicker — a tilt of her head, a shift in the air. I caught her off guard.
"Oh?" Her voice drops, softer but heavier. "And what would you know of motherhood?"
"I had a cat once," I begin, leaning back like I'm about to share something profound. "I had to make sure she was raised properly." I nod my head sagely, like I've just dropped the wisdom of the century.
Prospera goes quiet for a moment. Then, in a tone so low it nearly rumbles, she asks, "Are you… comparing my daughter to a cat?"
"I mean…" I shrug helplessly. "Suletta sometimes acts like one, right? You know—soft, jumpy, a little clingy sometimes?"
Prospera freezes. Just—stops moving. Her fingers, her shoulders, even her breath seems to still for a second. "…Suletta?"
"Who else?" I ask, blinking at her.
A long silence stretches between us. The hum of distant engines fills the hangar, faint and steady. Her visor tilts slightly—confusion? amusement? I can't tell.
"I was referring to Ericht," she says at last, slowly and deliberately.
I blink. "…Who?" Wait—she knows I know that name?
"My daughter," she clarifies, her tone soft but sharp enough to cut steel.
"I was referring to Suletta when I said your daughter, though?" I tilt my head in genuine confusion. "Why else would I introduce myself as your daughter's classmate?"
The silence that follows could suffocate a planet. We just… stare at each other, frozen in a weird conversational stalemate. Somewhere in the back of my head, the sensible part of me whispers that I should shut up now—before I accidentally provoke something far beyond my understanding.
Naturally, I ignore it.
"When I mentioned watching cat videos, who were you thinking of?" I ask, curiosity getting the better of me.
"I was referring to Ericht and Suletta," she answers after a pause.
"Huh," I exhale softly.
"Huh," she echoes, the tone almost mirroring mine.
We both fall silent again, just sitting there like two socially awkward robots that accidentally cross-wired their conversation.
Before I can dig myself any deeper, a familiar voice breaks the air.
"Mom!" Suletta calls out, her cheerful tone rings through the crowd.
The moment breaks like glass struck by sound, and both of us turn toward her at once.
Thank God.
"Letta!" I stand up, arms open wide, and she dives straight into them like it's the most natural thing in the world. I've trained her out of that shy hesitation she used to have. It took time, patience, and a lot of gentle nudging, but I've made sure that whenever she needs comfort, she knows she can come to me.
"What are you two talking about?" Suletta asks, her voice bright as ever, and I spot Miorine approaching behind her, cool as usual.
"About how cute and earnest you were at school," I answer smoothly, praying she won't question further. No way I'm telling her her mom and I just had the most awkward misunderstanding of the century.
"Now that you're here," I continue, patting her shoulder gently, "why don't you go and talk with your mother for a bit?"
She nods eagerly—poor girl, she looks so happy to see her mom. I turn toward Prospera, forcing my voice to stay polite. "It was good meeting you, Lady Prospera," I say, giving a slight bow before making my strategic retreat.
I walk away, straight toward the hallway, ignoring the curious stares and polite chatter of guests around me. Even Miorine's presence can't save me right now. My nerves are fried.
I hand my empty glass to a passing server and make a beeline for the restroom. The moment the door closes behind me, I grip the sink and take a deep breath.
Then I throw up.
The sound echoes off the cold marble walls. My stomach twists, not from the alcohol—I didn't drink enough for that—but from sheer mental exhaustion.
That damn fake smile. Just thinking about it makes bile rise in my throat.
It's my [Hateboner for Fake Smiles] acting up again. Prospera's grin wasn't just fake—it was perfect. A flawless, surgical imitation of warmth. The kind of smile that makes my skin crawl, that makes every instinct in me scream liar.
I rinse my mouth, splashing cold water on my face, trying to steady my breathing. "Five minutes," I mutter to myself. "I only talked to her for five minutes…"
And yet, it feels like she managed to dig under my skin, all the way down to the bone.
After a few minutes of collecting myself, I finally start cleaning the sink. There's still a faint acidic smell clinging to the porcelain, so I take some paper towels and scrub until it's spotless. I can't leave a mess behind — that'd be rude.
Once that's done, I rinse my mouth, brush my teeth, and wash my face again. Thankfully, I had the foresight to bring a travel toothbrush and toothpaste in my inner jacket pocket. Barara once said I overprepare for everything… guess she was right.
I stare at my reflection in the mirror — face pale, eyes a bit bloodshot. "You good?" I ask the guy in the mirror. He doesn't answer, of course. But I force a small smile anyway. "Yeah. You're good."
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When I finally step out of the restroom, the faint noise of the party greets me again — laughter, music, and the occasional clinking of champagne glasses. I roll my shoulders, ready to blend back into the crowd.
And then I see it.
My stomach sinks.
Suletta is on the stage.
No… not "on." Dragged there.
The spotlight is too harsh on her — she looks small and cornered under its glare. I knew this was coming. I knew Peil Technology was going to use her, parade her like a puppet. But… not this soon. I wasn't even gone that long.
I bite down the sudden surge of anger and guilt. I should've been there. I should've stayed.
Forcing my face into something resembling calm, I push through the crowd, each step heavier than the last. The sound of murmurs, whispers, and thinly veiled mockery scratches against my nerves.
When I reach Miorine, I exhale slowly through my nose. She's tense — her hands are clenched, her gaze locked on Suletta like she's ready to tear the stage apart.
I stand beside her, pretending to look casual, even though my chest feels like it's on fire.
I can't bring myself to look directly at Suletta anymore. It feels wrong — seeing her up there, cornered and humiliated like some witch being judged before the mob.
I was so caught up in my own discomfort, my own need to escape Prospera's suffocating presence… that I forgot this was coming.
And that realization hurts more than anything else.
A trembling hand clamps around mine. I don't need to look to know whose it is — Miorine. I lock my fingers with hers without thinking. Her whole body is taut, like a wire about to snap. Me too. I'm so furious I can feel the heat behind my eyes. I want to press the Moonlight Butterfly button right this instant and erase every smug face in that room. It would be justified. Right?
Her trembling eases the second she feels my grip. Good. I squeeze once, letting her know without words that I've got her. "Miorine," I whisper, right up against her ear so only she can hear. "I'll transfer you the Venus Globe department that's building the new OS." My voice is low. "Do as you see fit."
She exhales, a shuddering sound, and when I let go she explodes—finally—onto the stage. Her fury is surgical, precise, and terrifying.
I push through the clinking glasses and lacquered smiles and out into the cool night air. The party smells like sugar and perfume and rot. For a second I stand there, breathing it in, and the only honest things I can find are the memory of Suletta's small, stunned face and the hard line of Miorine's back as she moves.
I pull my tablet out and call Barara. Her face fills the screen before the call even connects; she always answers fast. "Barara," I say. My voice is flat, the edges gone. "How's the project coming?"
"It'll be finished in three weeks," she says, businesslike and steady, that half-smile like she's already on the next move.
"Good. Keep at it," I tell her and end the call. The sigh that leaves me feels like I'm draining something too heavy to carry.
I rub my temple, half-laughing at myself. "I wonder if this world's ready for GN Drive Tau," I murmur to nobody — a stupid, dangerous daydream and the only answer I get is the distant hum of the city.
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Author's Note;
Cadell vs. Prospera wasn't what you expected, right? I'm very sorry if you were waiting for Light vs. L level psychological showdown. Cadell vs. Prospera is like they slipped and fell before the race even started. They haven't even begun outsmarting each other yet—they both stumbled right at the starting line.
So… I guess Cadell won't be able to function normally near Prospera because of his drawback. Let's see how he'll work around that.
And hey! Barara is creating GN Drive Tau here. I'm sure nothing can go wrong.