"Where are we going next?" Hester asked.
"This is the final step," Chiyo replied. "It might hurt a little." She lifted her right hand and gently rubbed the inside of her wrist. "We'll implant a small chip here — it carries your identification code. The procedure itself is simple, and with local anesthesia, you won't feel a thing—"
"No anesthesia."
"Huh?"
"No anesthesia," Hester repeated.
Chiyo looked at her. "...Are you sure?"
"Yes."
---
Inside a semi-open surgical chamber, Hester sat upright on a cushioned seat. She extended her right hand through the windowed partition, where a mechanical arm was carefully cutting into her thin layer of flesh.
Chiyo, wearing sterile surgical attire, stood a few meters away, quietly observing. Tiny beads of sweat formed on the girl's forehead, and her face gradually turned pale — clear signs of pain.
When the procedure was over, they both moved to another sterile room for observation.
"Why didn't you want anesthesia?" Chiyo asked.
"...I just didn't want it."
Chiyo studied Hester's weary, fragile face and decided not to press further. After a moment of silence, she suddenly said,
"Have you ever heard the story of Hester's Eagle?"
Hester stared at her wrist. "...A little."
"How little?"
"The Hester people… they live in the northern part of District Fourteen," Hester murmured softly. "They treat the eagle as their totem—"
"Hahaha, I knew it," Chiyo interrupted with a laugh. "That's a very common misunderstanding outsiders have. The eagle isn't their totem — it's their guardian spirit. Their true totem is the horse."
"Is that so…" Hester whispered. "I… didn't know that."
Chiyo continued, "The Hester people have a tradition. When their children turn twelve, they tattoo an eagle on the child's wrist — it means the child has come of age. How old are you now?"
"Eleven," Hester answered.
"Then it's a year early," Chiyo said with a smile. "When I saw you refuse the anesthesia, I thought it was because of that tradition."
In a quiet voice, Hester said, "Sister Gerdine once warned us that drugs entering the bloodstream directly can dull a person's reactions."
"Forget everything those old nuns taught you," Chiyo said, folding her arms. "Trust modern science, Jane."
Hester steadied her breathing and looked at Chiyo. "Would you tell me the story of Hester's Eagle?"
Chiyo didn't respond right away. It wasn't that telling the story was difficult — but in this moment, sitting here with the pale, recovering girl, it felt strangely like a mother comforting her daughter… or an older sister watching over her younger one.
"Is it inconvenient?" Hester asked softly.
The observation room was quiet and empty. Chiyo lifted her head and glanced at the clock hanging on the wall in front of her — there were still twenty minutes left before the observation period ended.
"Well then," she said with a small sigh, "we've got nothing else to do anyway."
"The Eagle of Hester," Chiyo began softly, "is a story widely told across the northern snowfields of the Fourteenth District. Long ago, on those frozen plains, there lived a colossal eagle. Its beak was as large as a mountain peak, stretching for thousands of miles, and when it took flight, its shadow covered the entire sky and earth."
"This eagle's name," she continued, "was Hester. Its shadow carried a kind of sacred magic. Any living being that stood beneath it would be blessed with the highest form of earthly happiness.
"Every morning at sunrise, the Eagle of Hester would rise together with the first light, flying from the farthest south to the farthest north. Thus, each day, every newborn life would be bathed in the eagle's shadow.
"In those days, there was no conflict between heaven and earth. Birds and beasts, trees and vines — all living things dwelled in peace and harmony.
"But the Eagle of Hester slowly weakened as time went on. Its beak, once the size of mountain ranges, became the size of a lone peak, then of a lake. Its wings, too, began to shrink, until they could no longer shelter the world beneath them.
"Even so, the Eagle of Hester continued to rise with each dawn, until one day, it grew too old and frail to lift its wings. It fell at last upon the northern snowfields. There, its wings became arms, its talons became legs, and it turned into a human infant.
"The sheep and horses of the plains — and all the creatures it had once protected — gathered around to nurse and raise this child.
"In the myths of the Hester people, their ancestors were born this way. It sounds absurd, but most myths do."
Chiyo tilted her head slightly. "Do you like this story?"
"It's… interesting," Hester murmured, leaning back in her chair and closing her eyes. "Thank you."
---
Around three in the afternoon, Chiyo left the reserve training base.
Before she went, Hester looked up at the woman who had rescued her from the convent — the one who was now her guardian. For a moment, she didn't know what to say.
Chiyo crouched down and placed her strong hands on Hester's small shoulders.
"This is as far as I go."
Hester gazed into Chiyo's gray eyes — in certain moments, like now, when light reflected off them, they seemed to shimmer with the brilliance of silver.
"...Do you have any advice for me?" Hester asked quietly.
Chiyo frowned slightly, clearly giving the question serious thought. After a pause, she stood and patted Hester gently on the head.
"Not much. But if I have to say something…" She suddenly pinched Hester's nose and laughed. "Don't fall in love too early, alright? Focus on your training. I'll keep an eye on your progress — maybe we'll see each other again soon. Goodbye, Jane."
Hester nodded solemnly, taking Chiyo's words to heart.
"Goodbye, Miss Chiyo."
After Chiyo left, Hester stood alone by the large glass window on the fourth floor, gazing down. Her eyes stayed fixed on the exit below until Chiyo's figure appeared. She watched her walk all the way to the parking lot, open the car door, and drive away.
Diana Rowen, who was passing by to deliver some documents, soon noticed the small girl standing by the window.
"Miss Hester?" she called gently as she approached. "You should be heading to the dormitory to register your ID card."
"I know," Hester replied softly.
Diana followed Hester's gaze outside but saw only a few patches of open ground and the nearly empty road beyond. She crouched down slightly, meeting Hester's eyes at a lower height.
"What are you looking at?"
"...Miss Chiyo's car."
Hester pointed toward the road where the folding-top car — the one that had brought her here — had just vanished at the horizon.
She stared at the spot where the vehicle disappeared, and a quiet, indescribable loneliness rose within her heart.
(End of Chapter)